But Why Do It?
Oh hey there! Yes, I am alive and yes I have still been writing, just not here. The last three months have been full of camping, hiking, paddle boarding, and gardening. So much gardening. Some of the busy was to be expected with the shift from Spring to Summer and all that Summer fosters, however a lot of the “busy” was unexpected. I will be walking into a new season of parenting this fall with some new roles and projects to balance and this summer required space to pray and prepare for the true busyness that is about to ensue.
Paddle boarding took over my running regime this summer and I’m not mad about it.
That said, I am hoping to still have a consistent presence here (ahem, no three month hiatuses) but possibly with less content. Meaning, a post or two a month may be the new goal. Enough housekeeping and throat clearing for now, on to the good stuff.
If you know me or follow my Instagram account you know I love hiking and when possible, a solid backpacking trip. I recently got back from a trip in the Goats Rocks Wilderness which sits in the Cascade mountain range. It’s one of those magical places I could attempt to describe, but is far better to go see for yourself. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law have been hiking the PCT in sections and I got to meet up with them for their last evening on the trail. Everything about this experience felt new and unfamiliar and pushed me in a way that after reflection, left me convicted and encouraged. So much so it was the final spur that got me back here, writing to you.
On the whole, my backpacking partner is and has always been Lucas. I went on my first backpacking trip with him and his sister when we were dating and I was instantly hooked. He is usually the one planning, preparing and leading the charge with maps and navigation so this was my first time to put my “adult pants” on and figure it out on my own. I should clarify I have done solo hikes before but never solo hikes that had the potential to turn into a solo backpacking trip in the event I didn’t successfully meet up with my party. We had satellite communication with one another via Garmin. I also was using GPS on my phone and had a power bank in case my phone needed charging. All that said, there is something terrifying and humbling about stepping on a trail as a solo woman.
While I was packing up my bag the night before, I got a message through the Garmin our connection point needed to change. This meant I would need to start at a different trailhead, rerouting both my hike and the drive there. After shuffling through our green trail maps, I realized we didn’t have the correct map and I’d need to stop at a ranger station on the way down. After a pep talk from Lucas and studying some google maps, I felt better about the change. However, I already observed in myself a resistance or hesitancy to the new plans which I found annoying. Why wasn’t I more flexible from the beginning? Everything would be fine, in fact this new plan was better. It was a slightly shorter hike in and I was actually familiar with the new trailhead since I’d used it before.
The next morning I woke up, loaded up the car, kissed the boys goodbye, got one last pep talk and hug from Lucas and set off. Before leaving the driveway I checked the eta on my phone, sent an update message through the Garmin and took a deep breath. I backed out of the driveway and began to pray. I prayed for a safe commute, I prayed Beck and Barbara were doing well on the trail, I prayed for the boys. I had downloaded a new playlist to my phone along with some podcasts and an Audible I’ve been meaning to start all summer. Instead the car ride was silent. The Friday morning traffic was mild and sparse and I slowly wound my way south on I-5 then east into the foothills of Mount Rainier. I continued to pray, the car continued to remain silent.
Sunset at Snowflats Meadow.
This summer I got to be a part of a bible study with a group of women at my church where we studied prayer. It has changed how I practice prayer but more deeply it has shown me the great urgency for it. I do not know how to sit still for long or how to be quiet minded. Prayer to me is as uncomfortable and unnatural a practice as not knowing how to swim. And yet it is the very thing our souls long for the most. Our souls long to commune in the presence of God. So I have spent much of this summer praying to God for greater understanding so that my practice would improve. Bit by bit, rather step by step, he has been helping me.
My silent drive stretched on and I continued to pray. At times it sounded like a casual conversation with the occasional supplication. Other times it was me asking why he allows bad drivers to exist. The farther from home I drove, the smaller and needier I began to feel and the greater God’s presence grew in the car. After two hours, I rounded a corner on highway 12 and arrived at the north end of Packwood. I found the ranger station and felt my stomach drop. I hesitantly walked through the glass doors and was greeted by a sweet smile from a blonde woman who very clearly was not a park ranger, based on her attire. Packwood no longer has a ranger station, instead it has a real estate office. I picked up a Disneyland scale map of the trails surrounding Packwood and shuffled back to the car. The nearest station was in Randle, a good thirty minutes passed the forest road I was taking so I was going blind. I still had Gaia on my phone which would act as my navigator but all hikers know, you always should carry a physical map with you. My prayers turned to safety once more.
An hour and a very bumpy forest road later, I parked the now dusty car at the trailhead. After applying sunblock, wiping down in deet, and packing the final pieces in the bag, I locked the car and sent a quick message on the Garmin. I was off. I boldly marched to the trailhead, passing a group of backpackers. Only once I got to the end of the lot there was no Snowflats trailhead. For the next fifteen minutes I paced between three different trailheads in the parking lot, sorting out which one was correct. I started recording my trip through Gaia on my phone to see if I could find myself on the map but couldn’t see any movement. I found a teenager and asked if he knew where the Snowflats trailhead was to which he pathetically replied, “Man i’m sorry. I’m just trying to find my sister and dad.” He looked as lost as I felt.
I decided to commit to one trail and walk confidently in a direction still glaring at the Gaia app to see if the satellite was picking up my movement. After five minutes I decided to turn back towards the parking lot. Near tears I stopped. After three hours of sitting in God’s presence, how was it I so quickly forgot his presence out of the car? Literally thirty minutes had passed and I had forgotten to slow and ask Him for help. I stopped, took a breath and asked for clarity and peace. A quick thought of, “If Lucas was here, he would know where to go” shot through my brain and I gulped down the knot in my throat. I looked back at my phone and, similar to the Marauder’s Map, noticed for the first time a squiggly green line, one made clearly by someone pacing. I found myself! Only I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I had parked the car at a trailhead .6 miles northwest from the one I was supposed to park at. Luckily, there was a trail between the two trailheads and it was the one I was on.
Beck and I with Mt Adams in the back.
Finally I began my hike. I still had the gnawing fear in the back of my mind meeting up with Beck and Barbara would be challenging. If finding a stationary trail was hard, how would it be finding two moving people? But for the first time I was feeling something new, something similar to excitement. After a few more minutes, I realized I was feeling freedom. As I hiked I reflected and prayed. I was feeling a weird soup of peace, freedom, uncertainty yet joy. Yes, getting on any trail drops endorphins and there's something magical about hiking, but this was different. Everything about this trip was unfamiliar because I was alone and solely responsible, my inefficiency was palpable and it pushed me to prayer.
Prayer had been the conductor throughout the morning, allowing me to still experience discomfort and fear, but bringing me through to see resolution. The more I hiked alone, the more unfamiliar things felt, the more necessary prayer became. I was struck at how ridiculous this all was. Prayer is not a means to an end and hiking is not a means to prayer, yet this was my experience. I was convicted by how much God loved me, how much He missed having conversations with me. It brought a breakdown of control to need prayer, and yet it is something I should want, I should thirst for the moment I wake in the morning.
A friend of mine at church recently wrote a piece about morning rhythms and why giving God our first fruits in the morning, allows us, over the course of time, to build and grow in an intimate relationship with Him. There is a need and urgency for prayer for those who follow God because I fear we do not do it enough. We see it as a tool and a means to receive the good things in life without understanding the only good thing in life is already ours. He is with us always, ready and eager to talk about everything and nothing. To be with us in the car, at the kitchen sink, in the uncomfortable meeting or in the still and quiet, he is always with us.
I came around a final switch back before making the main ascent to Snowflats Meadow and stopped in blinding light. The sun was hitting a pool of water in a meadow below the trail, reflecting light directly up. Prayer is the beginning of so many good things, it is first and foremost a gift. Through it we are changed, through it we are able to hear and understand God’s heart for us and His people. Just like the reflection, we get to experience the full brilliance and power of God’s presence indirectly through prayer because of Christ. One day we will have full and direct communication with our Creator, until then why not sit in the reflection and talk to Him now?
