When Experience doesn't match Expectations....
....or "Adventures in Anniversary Hiking".
Steve Saint, the son of the intrepid Nate Saint, who along with Jim Elliott was martyred for the sake of the gospel being spread to the Waodani tribe of Ecuador, once memorably stated this:
The definition of suffering is when our experience doesn't match our expectations. Interestingly, this is also the definition of blessing.
I have always found this to be a helpful thought to bring perspective to the ups and downs of life. This story is offered as an allegory of this, with tongue firmly in cheek.
Last weekend Jack and I went to beautiful Asheville, NC to celebrate our 31st anniversary. We love to hike, and I had been training avidly , by walking at least 3 miles every other day the week prior, to make sure I was in top shape.
The day we arrived, we decided to fit in a quick warm-up hike, and after some discussion with the help desk at the hotel, settled on a "2.8 mile easy" hike off the Blue Ridge Parkway. We spotted the 355 mile marker on the side of the road, parked the car and set off scrambling along a narrow path down the mountain. About 45 minutes, 2.5 miles in, it occurred to us that we had probably been going for a good while, and further, what goes down, must inevitably come up. Puzzled, yet undaunted, we forged on, believing in the integrity of our directions. Surely there must be something we hadn't thought of, and soon it would all become clear. Plus, neither of us particular relished the thought of scrambling back up said 2.8 mile trail, not to mention that daylight hours were waning, and who wanted to get stuck on a mountain in the dark. This hike was definitely not meeting our expectations.
As we approached the hour mark, we landed at the bottom of the mountain, cheerful spirits mostly intact, and even managed the requisite pictures on the stone bridge by the babbling brook. Our smiles actually masked the sense of rising panic, as we reviewed our options, none of which at that point were particularly optimistic. There was an unmade gravel road that was generally heading in an upward direction, and seemed more palatable than booking it back up the mountain path, so we set off, despite the fact that there were no further yellow markings on the trees, like those that had marked our way for the previous hour.
After a few minutes, I asked the Lord if He would be so kind as to send us someone who could confirm that we were on the right track, and not in fact getting ourselves deeper in. To be honest, with every step, I was convinced we were doing just that, and that we would have to retrace all of them, and then career frantically up the mountainous trail in the remaining daylight. At that very moment, a car approached and we were able to confirm that this road did lead back to the Parkway. Spirits buoyed, we switchbacked up a couple more times and sure enough, gained the road, now about two hours into our easy hike. We had kept our sense of humor and laughed most of the way at our grand adventure. Turning right, we headed back to the car.
Within a minute or two, we were heartened to spot a mile marker, which would tell us just how far we had to go to get back to the car. "How far could it be?" we thought, optimistically, "We're on foot, we couldn't have gone that far." MM352. "SAY WHAT?!" We were 3 miles from our car. Bursting out laughing, because it beat the alternative, we assured each other gamely, "hey, that's once around the lake from our house - we do that every day." The rest of the way back to the car was uphill, increasing steadily in grade as we went. We were now fighting a losing battle with the impending darkness, and so we struck a frantic pace. "At least it's not raining," I noted, ever the optimist. At that literal moment the heavens opened and it began pouring. Five minutes later, having walked along in soggy silence, I managed: "Sorry about the rain", knowing full well that it was completely my fault, and why hadn't I just kept my mouth shut.
After 2 miles, I was done, and I stopped at MM 354 while my gallant husband went to retrieve the car and come back to rescue me. I made the most of my 15 minute wait picking an assortment of colorful wildflowers beside the road, and we brought them back to the hotel as a grateful memento of our adventure. After hot baths and a delightful evening at a downtown outdoor restaurant, we toasted to each other, and to the cheering realization that, after 31 years, we were not too old to have adventures.
This hike did not match any of our expectations, and as we look back on our 31-year adventure, there isn't much about our life that has. Thank God. He has been steadfastly with us through all the easy downs, the strenous ups, the switchbacks and the slow and steady; rain and shine, sunshine or dark, He has been our light and our guide. We are immensely blessed.
