Drink

Delicate Arch, Arches National Park near Moab, Utah

A fundamental rule for hiking in America’s national parks is to leave no trace. In order to protect and preserve the park’s natural resources, hikers are advised to take only photos and leave behind only footprints. My family violated that rule, however, the year one of my children threw up all over Delicate Arch.

It seems this particular family member had neglected another fundamental rule listed in the park’s hiking guide: Be sure to take and drink water. A gallon per person per day is recommended; don't skimp, even on short trails.

Dehydration can set in when hiking in the desert, resulting in headaches and nausea before one even is even aware of feeling thirsty.  As a family, we’ve learned to carry an adequate supply of water and stop frequently to re-hydrate. Neglecting to drink can have serious consequences.

One of the projects listed in Tsh Oxenreider’s new e-book: One Bite at a Time: 52 Projects for Making Life Simpler is to drink more water. Tsh says, “We know we need to drink lots of water, but most of us still don’t. It’s probably not because we don’t have access to it—it’s either because we forget, or because we’d rather drink something else. Our bodies function fully when we’re hydrated, but we often run at less than full capacity.”

Images of water flow throughout the pages of Scripture. Sometimes water is in short supply, and sometimes God’s people forget to drink what is available to them. There seems to be a whole lot of drinking going on in Scripture; some of it good, some of it bad, and a whole lot of it pointing toward God’s abundant grace.

• When God sent plagues upon the enemies of His people, He made their water undrinkable. (Exodus 7)

• The people of God grumbled about not having water in the wilderness. Responding with mercy rather than judgment, God provided water, in abundance, from the rock. (Numbers 20)

• When fleeing from his enemy Saul, David longed to drink from the well of Bethlehem. (2 Samuel 23:15)

• God told the prophet Jeremiah that His people had committed two evils: They had forsaken Him, the fountain of living waters, and had carved out broken cisterns for themselves which couldn’t hold water. (Jeremiah 2:13)

• While in exile, God’s people had to pay for the water they drank. (Lamentations 5:4)

• Yet God continued to invite his thirsty people to return to Him and drink: “Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat!” (Isaiah 55:1)

• Jesus said, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’”  (John 7:37, 38)

During some of my family’s hikes, we came close to running out of water before reaching our destination. It was frightening, feeling thirsty while not knowing how close we were to the nearest water source. Too often I think of God’s blessings as being scarce; mere trickles of water, barely enough to sustain me. I allow myself to wander, thirsty in the wilderness.

But God offers me more than mere trickles. He gave His people water in abundance from the rock, enough to satisfy not only their thirsts, but those of their livestock as well. This He gave to grumbling people through his servant Moses, even though he acted disobediently. Christ offers me living water, enough that rivers of it can overflow from my heart. I can drink this water deeply because Christ drank from the sponge soaked in vinegar (Matthew 27:48) and from the full cup of God’s wrath. (Matthew 26:39)

Christ drank the cup of God’s wrath and offers me, instead, the cup of His blessing.

This year, I’m thinking about taking Tsh up on her suggestion about drinking more water, and I hope to do so mindfully. I have access to water, and in abundance. I never need to worry about going thirsty. Each sip of clean, life-giving water provides an opportunity for me to consider what it means to drink deeply from the river of living water. I want to learn to function more fully in the life Christ offers and begin to cultivate a mindset of abundance, rather than scarcity.

In the year ahead I’m also hoping to be more mindful of those who don’t have access to clean water. According to Compassion International, every day over 4,000 children are dying of water-related diseases such as cholera and typhoid that are easily preventable. I’m hoping that in my year of drinking, I’ll be moved to gratitude for what I have, and to compassion for those who continue to thirst.

My word for 2012? Drink. This year, I’m planning to do some serious drinking. Care to join me?

How precious is your steadfast love, O God!
   The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
  They feast on the abundance of your house,
   and you give them drink from the river of your delights.
  For with you is the fountain of life;
   in your light do we see light.

Psalm 36:7-9

For more information about how you can help provide clean water for those in need:

Compassion International

Blood:Water Mission

(All Scripture references are taken from the ESV)

Linking with Bonnie @ Faith Barista:

And joining the community at One Word 365:

Precipice Trail

There are reasons visitors flock to New England in the fall.

When my children were young, Acadia National Park in Maine was the annual fall leaf-peeping destination for our family each Columbus Day weekend. As the only national park in New England, Acadia is consistently ranked as one of the top ten most visited national parks in the country. Acadia offers gorgeous views of rocky Maine coastline set against a stunning mix of evergreen and deciduous trees. The foliage in Acadia is usually at its peak of autumn color near Columbus Day, and the vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows in the trees contrasting against the cool blues and grays of the shoreline entice visitors from all over the world.

My kids and me, circa 2000. Notice how our fleece jackets match the reds, greens, and yellows in the trees?

The park contains an extensive carriage road system which passes through stone-faced bridges, near waterfalls, streams, and hiking trails. My family and I are well-acquainted with many of the trails, having kicked over familiar granite surfaces multiple times throughout the years. The Beehive trail, a short climb up a granite cliff via ladders and iron rungs, became a family favorite. I remember the year my daughter pouted because I would only allow my husband to take her halfway up the trail, fearing it was too dangerous for her. By the time my kids were in high school, they scrambled up the Beehive as though they were mountain goats.

One year, the beloved Swede decided that the kids were ready to conquer Acadia’s Precipice Trail. Described as a strenuous hike climbing 1,000 feet up the face of Champlain Mountain, the trail requires the use of many iron rungs and ladders. Warning signs posted at the trailhead indicate that the route should be attempted only by hikers who are physically fit and have no fear of heights. The warnings state that, in order to reach some of the iron rungs, hikers should be at least five feet tall or else they will slip, fall and bounce their way down the granite cliff, becoming food for the endangered peregrine falcons which nest on Mount Champlain. Or something to that effect.

My son, who was nine years old at the time, may have measured all of four feet-ten the year the beloved Swede decided to conquer The Precipice Trail. He assured me our son would be fine; he was an experienced hiker. Besides, he told me, a friend of his had hiked the trail not long before and said it wasn’t that bad. The language on the warning signs, he told my husband, was just there on the advice of the park’s lawyers as protection against claims of liability.

Did I happen to mention my husband’s friend was a lawyer?

Not long into the hike, I began yelling at my husband, “I hate this trail! I hate your friend!” It had rained all night long before the morning of our hike, and do you know what is more slippery than wet granite? Not much. Each time I heard the slip of a foot or the crunch of gravel being kicked loose, I had visions of my children tumbling down the slick, granite rock face, plunging to certain death; all while under my supervision and with my consent.

We reached the summit of Mount Champlain where the wind, I was certain, was about to carry my four-foot, ten inch son off the mountain and away.

My husband wanted a picture of the kids and me enjoying the view from the top. Do I look like I’m enjoying the view?

Without a word, I turned and started making my way down the back side of Champlain. I wanted nothing more than to get off that summit. That blur of yellow behind the trail head sign is me heading for the car, trying to put as much distance as possible between me and the Precipice Trail.

During dinner that evening, my son asked, “Mom? Do you still love Daddy?”

I may have answered him something to the effect of, “I will always love your father. Now shut up and eat your buttered noodles.”

Despite the unpleasantness of the Precipice Trail hike and dinner that evening, we enjoyed a memorable weekend together. Thunder Hole--a rocky inlet which, when tide conditions are right, allows air and water to collide in an explosive crash--put on a spectacular show for us.

Just as the kids had decided they were done viewing Thunder Hole, my husband climbed up on some granite and asked us to pose for pictures. From his vantage point, he could see out what was out in the ocean and headed our way:

Believe me; the waters of the waters of the Atlantic along the coast of Maine can get pretty darned cold by Columbus Day weekend.

My kids are now grown, and my husband and I are together at home this Columbus Day. But I have photo albums filled with pictures and a heart full of memories of the fall weekends shared, through the years, with our children along the coast of Maine.

I will always love my children's daddy. And them.

(Click here for a video of Thunder Hole doing it's thing)

Sharing a Columbus Day playdate memory with Laura:

 

And with L.L. Barkat for On, In, and Around Monday:

Streams In the Desert

Nearly every mother I know who has watched her teenage son writhe painfully, even violently, to shed his boyhood skin and step out onto the legs of the man God was forming has offered me these words of encouragement:

It will get better.

This past week, I was finally able to begin to taste truth in those words.  The beloved Swede and I traveled out west to pick up our son from camp and then spend a week exploring new places and revisiting favorite ones.  During the camp's closing program, we were asked to stand and recite the Pledge of Allegiance.  Behind the flag, outside the window, against the breathtaking New Mexico sky was this:

While the camera didn't capture the entirety of its brilliance, displayed in front of me was a triple rainbow as if God needed to repeat His promise to me three times to make sure I heard it:

When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.  Genesis 9: 14, 15

After leaving camp, we saw fingerprints of our heavenly Father everywhere--in the sky, on the ground, in the life of our son.  We drove to Great Sand Dunes National Park, and waded through a stream in the desert--a warm, improbable, life-giving stream.

 

And father and son walked, and talked, and threw frisbees.  And there was peace and joy and gratitude.

We hiked together and saw deserts, canyons, and alpine meadows in full spring bloom and I was reminded of my Father's promises once again:

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus; it shall blossom abundantly and rejoice with singing...For waters break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water...and the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.  Isaiah 35

But even as I lifted tear-stained eyes to heaven in gratitude and praise, I detected the foul stench of the enemy's breath as he leaned in close to whisper, "Don't kid yourself.  This won't last.  It's a mountaintop experience, at best.  In a few days, things will go back to the way they were.  Did God really say He was able to transform lives?  Has He really said, 'Behold, I am making all things new?'."

And I know these are lies, tempting me to doubt, tempting to me to fear.  They are not the words of my loving Father.  This is not the voice of my Good Shepherd.  He has said I will hear His voice and I will know him, and His words speak peace.  And so I fight back against the lies with the weapons he has given me.  I praise Him because He is present in the praises of His people.  And I give thanks.


Linking with the Gratitude Community and continuing to number the gifts:

358. A Father’s Day text message from camp.

359. Seeing God’s fingerprints.

360. Camp counselors and staff who invest in the lives of teens and who, when thanked, say, “I didn’t do a thing.

361. Humility

362. Gratitude

363. Laughter and play

364. Games of Frisbee.

365. Streams in the desert

366. Heavens that tell of the glory of God; skies that proclaim the work of His hands.

367. Flowers in bloom scattered everywhere, seemingly at random, but all known and tended by the loving hand of my Father.

368. More blooming lupine! A western variety, but I get to type it again!

369. Vastness. Knowing that much of the beauty of the west is its sheer size. Knowing that vast, eternal, incomparable beauty awaits us in the new heavens and new earth.

370. Cecropia moths.  God makes some pretty cool stuff.

371. Being able to hike to above 11,000 feet of elevation and not need medical attention.

372. Seeing a bear! In the woods! From a train!

373. Seeing bighorn sheep. Twice!

374. Having a husband willing and able to do this:

375.  Inhaling my last lungful of lilac on July 1 because lilac were still blooming in July in Colorado.

376. Serendipitously running into a high school friend in the airport--the same friend who just so happened to be serving as a missionary in the Philippines when we traveled to bring home our son.

377. Serendipitously running into the beloved Swede’s best friend from high school, a member of our wedding party we hadn’t seen in over 20 years.

378. Not believing in serendipity.

Look at the Stars

Because my husband worked for years on a project in the Salt Lake City area, our family had many opportunities to tag along on business trips and explore the vast beauty of the wild west.  We're huge fans of the National Parks and have left our footprints on many trails throughout red rock country.  Sometimes I wondered how much our kids were either enjoying or appreciating these adventures.  We'd often have long travel days that began hours before the sun came up.  We dealt with altitude sickness and heard many complaining cries of, "How much longer is this hike?"  Yet, my heart and my photo albums are filled with snapshots of the times we shared together in places like Capitol Reef, Zion, Arches, and Bryce Canyon.

As we explored together, the kids picked up cigarette butts and filled my pockets with them while working to earn Junior Ranger badges.  They learned about things like cryptobiotic soil and Native American petroglyphs.  We saw cacti blooming in the spring.  We sniffed Ponderosa Pine trees after learning that their bark was used to make artificial vanilla extract.  My son threw up at Delicate Arch, feeling the effects of both the altitude and dehydration.  A few years later, he returned and completed the climb to the arch in triumph.  Once, I watched in horror as a small private airplane flew through the very arch under which my husband and son were standing.  I was certain that the pilot would clip a wing, showering them with metal shrapnel.  Even those experiences that were unsettling at the time have become sweet memories.

I think back to those experiences whenever I witness one of my children acknowledge beauty in creation.  A sunset rich with pinks and purples and blues.  Morning dew on a spider web.  The sound of a woodpecker in a silent winter forest.  The night sky filled with stars.  And I am grateful.




127. An invitation from the beloved teenage son to follow him outside to look at the stars in the clear, winter night sky.

128. God’s covenant promises as reflected in stars which can’t be numbered. “And he brought him (Abraham) outside and said, ‘Look toward the heavens, and number the stars, if you are able to number them.’ “

129. Children who appreciate the beauty of creation.

130. Memories of family vacations.

131. National parks

132. The opportunity to look through old photo albums to find pictures for the beloved son’s yearbook.

133. What some of the photos chosen reveal about my son’s heart and what is meaningful to him.

134. An elder showing up in the school parking lot just when I needed him. The reminder that God is present. Always.

135. Submission.

136. That He who began a good work in us will bring it to completion on the day of Jesus Christ.

137. The bitterness of sin revealing the sweetness of Christ.

138. That the Lord disciplines those He loves.

139. Hen parties.

140. Those who care.

141. Catching up with a friend who’s moved away.

142. Apples and pheasant in Calvados and cream sauce, lovingly prepared by my husband.

143. A court decision in which justice was upheld.

144. Celebrating victories.

145. Getting important tasks done, even if not triumphantly.

146. Finding new book recommendations.

147. The way my son’s thank you notes reveal his tender and caring heart.