Treasures from the Trail, Part 5 - A Word About Vanity

Morning Instant Oatmeal Feast

This whole backpacking-with-my-husband thing has been a gift on countless levels, really.  One of the treasures our times have contained is most surprising to me.  When Brent and I vacation staying in hotels, I can get caught up in what I look like.  Do I look cute? feel cute? am I cute?  Are my earrings matching (hopefully they're matching each other, but I mean are they matching my outfit)?  And I pack many shoes to wear just the right ones with each set of clothes.

He and I have discussed how backpacking is a fast in many ways:   a fast from our soft bed, running water, fresh food, appliances, icy cold drinks, electronics.  On the list goes.  For me it is also a fast, a retreat, from the need to look darling.

It's not that I haven't tried.  Sensing my desire to appear and feel more feminine on the trail, I ordered hiking skorts.   I researched to find a great price and read all 53 reviews about the item of clothing I ordered that promised to be functional and, well, frankly, adorable.  Next was the trail test, where I wore them on a local overnighter to see whether they'd make the cut to bring to our big hike in the Sierras.  Portrayed as feminine, functional, water resistant, bug proof, SPF 50 rated and great fitting,  how could this item of clothing be resisted?  However, In all 53 descriptions of how this skirt-short combination changed women's lives for the better, no one mentioned that with each step my thighs would be saying, "Pardon me, excuse me," to each other!  REI takes returns for any reason.  Reason?  Um, my thighs rubbed together?  "They didn't work for me," was my explanation to the sales associate as I slid the unwanted skorts across the counter towards her.

I share this to say that, while I still struggle some with vanity, I've experienced much freedom as well.  Farthest from my mind now is, what is Brent thinking of how I look or am I feeling pretty?  I get so bamboozled with the beauty around me, what God is doing in me and focus on the steps and the exertion, the life inside me that my eyes and attention are off of my appearance.  Early on in our trail adventures, what  became apparent to me is that much of the fun we enjoy together on these journeys is due to my not having room to pack my vanity.  I am traveling lighter!

Can anyone think of a caption for this picture?

Admittedly, I delete some pictures I see when we get home.  Sometimes I see one and let out a big, "Whoa!"  But I'm caring less.  The  bad pics don't sear their images on my mind or taunt me like they used to.  A friend was talking with me about what she was going to wear on a trip to the East Coast this fall, and she said she was feeling drawn to packing more simply and not being so caught up in what she wore.  I encouraged her and pulled out my phone and brought up these puffy-eyed photos I'm sharing,  telling her I was going to write about this subject, and she reacted with a sincerely concerned look, asking, "You're not going to show anyone those, are you?"

Well, yeah, I think I will!  Thanks for the idea.

I never realized just how self-occupied with my own looks I was until I fasted from my primping.  If my thoughts of how my own attractiveness or lack thereof are not on the front burner of my mind, there's more space to focus on enjoying my husband, together unwrapping this tremendous gift the Giver of all good things has presented to us.

Treasures from the Trail, Part 4 - The Still Waters

As we journeyed further after lunch, well-rested and revitalized, we came upon a rich-in-color lake.  If Brent and I were going to make camp before nightfall, we could not stop at every breathtaking site, so it was essential that this lovely lake be bypassed.  Walking by it, I kept glancing over my shoulder through the trees to see the rich blue-green color, to take in its still beauty.  Excitedly I yelled ahead to my husband, "Jesus is leading us beside the still waters!"   I could only snap a couple of pictures then carry the scene in my mind while the hike continued.

I reflected upon what is soul-restoring about still waters.  "He leads me beside still waters.  He restores my soul."  First, I wonder, when did I start taking so lightly how profound it is that the maker of the universe would lead me, that the One who placed each star where it belongs has a place for me, that He who led the Israelites and Moses across the Red Sea takes me by the hand and shows me the way to go?  This is no small thing, I realized, soaking in the truth that  here and now, He has led me to this place.

I know this has implications for shepherds and sheep, but I later jotted down what I noticed as Jesus walked me by the still waters.  What is the value of His doing so?  What about still waters grants me the restoration my soul so desperately needs?  Here is what I came up with that is offered to me at the waterside:

Reflection - The value and necessity of my reflecting on what God has done, to ponder what He is doing, to "see again" His showing Himself to me.

Depth - To look with Him under the surface of me beyond what is obvious.  His spirit at work deep inside me, changing me, loving me.

Color - Rich, rich blue-greens that sing of healing and beauty and life.

Serenity - I feel peaceful and quiet when I gaze on the placid waters.  My mind becomes unoccupied  with the worry that tries to reside there.

Settling - Nothing is moving nor rustling about.  Something in this gives me hope that Christ can calm my rushing heart.

Refreshment - Coolness, cleanliness, moisture of living water quenching my drenched spirit.

Responsiveness - I realize that if I were to throw a rock into this still water, an impact would be made, a rippling would occur.  I long to still my heart so that it is in a place to respond to God's initiations.  A stone thrown in a rushing river would hardly be noticed.  Where in my life is God trying to get my attention?  A still heart notices more than a frantic heart.

'Tis a profound thing to be led.

'Tis even more profound that I, a wandering, often directionless sheep, am learning to follow.

Treasures from the Trail, Part 3 - The Invitation

"Come to me, you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." - Jesus

"Mommy, God made this tree just for me," the words of my four-year-old daughter rang through my memory.  I could see her standing in a hollowed-out tree stump fitting perfectly within its contours. "Yes, he did, honey," I answered back, my heart happy to see her delightfully enjoying God's creation.

But now it was I lying in rather than standing in a hollowed-out tree.  Brent and I had stopped to each lunch and regain our strength next to a beautiful waterfall minutes before.  We hiked on from that place along the edge of a lake.  Shortly past lunchtime, Brent stopped again to pump and filter water from the lake, which gave me time to explore, take pictures and breathe in the wonder of this place.

An old tree trunk lay resting on the shore then extending onto the water.  Though I had already felt rejuvenated from our lunch stop, the appeal of  taking my pack off again and lying in the log was too great to resist.  I sat on the log, soaked my feet in the water while photographing my feet as they were being refreshed in the coolness.  Finding I had phone service, I snapped pictures of the scenery and texted messages with photos to my children.  I was so excited about this place of rest I'd discovered but was frantically telling everyone about it and recording it rather than actually entering into the offered rest that was before me.

Finally I turned off my phone and lay down.  Water surrounded me yet could not touch me on either side of the log that cupped my body.  I felt more quiet and peace than I had ever experienced without the help of an anesthesiologist.  I was being held.  God made this tree just for me, I echoed the sentiments of my daughter from years ago.  I suppose you could say I was taking the invitation to rest and be held personally.  The tree was there for me --  yes, for me.  I want to say that's silly and brush it off.  But what if the Creator of all that is allowed me to notice this piece of wood and let it be there right then, for me?

"Don't take things personally," we often say and have said to us.  Yet I believe there is much that we are meant to take personally, to receive as a gift within our person.  I have noticed even the most cynical take to heart  rainbows and shooting stars.  Yes, millions are viewing the same scene.  But God has something that touches us each personally as we view the colors and arc of a rainbow or the brief, gasp-inducing brightness of a star shooting across the night sky.  And we sense something that is beyond us yet speaking a message of love into us.

With an ache I long to be able to express what this time of deep rest did in the deepest parts of me.  I know I came away from there smiling at the love shown me, changed somehow,  open, with a desire to be more aware of God's invitations to me in the future.  I am surprised at how close I came to just giving the scene a thumbs-up, telling everyone about it, loving the idea of a resting log rather than actually entering into it and receiving what my Maker had carved out for me there.

Talking with some friends who had recently hiked in the same area, they mentioned they had gone by the very lake at which we stopped.  "Oh, did you see my log?" I asked, describing it to them gleefully.  They did not at all know what I was talking about, yet God had personal gifts He gave to them on their way as well.

I can sense God's delight when I think of Him watching me open His gift and respond to His invitation to soak my feet, to celebrate His beauty and to enter into the made-just-for-me reclining spot. 

I still smile to think of it.

Bridal Shower Blues

The Pinterestable Standard

I am hosting a bridal shower for my lovely niece Chandra in six days.  It's been 25 years or so since I have attempted such a feat.  Things have changed.  Back in the day we, with scissors, cut out umbrellas from construction paper, wrote people's names on them with Sharpies, and they pinned them to their blouses when entering the party.  The pin wasn't special.  Neither was the paper nor the pen used to write out a person's name.

We provided guests a cake, cute paper plates with matching cups and napkins, punch in a pretty bowl and possibly some nuts and mints -- No.  Wait.  Those were reserved for the wedding reception.  We played corny, wedding-themed games.  It was all really fun and celebratory and, well, unpinteresting.  No one was going to make a collage or photobook or facebook page of the event.

Preparing for Chandra's shower, I had to accept I could not get my computer to print the printable invites I'd purchased, so by hand I wrote out each invitation.  I look at the baby shower invite I just received magneted to my fridge, and notice how professional looking and creative it is.  The shower has a theme!  It's a sailor theme.  And everything on the invitation rhymes.  Things have changed, a lot.

I saw early in the planning I needed to let go of some standard I was comparing my efforts with.  And I was doing fine with that, until I received an email from a friend of the bride, who is a professional photographer, offering to photograph the shower.  Now as I think about the snacks that are to be served and the arrangement on the table, I keep picturing the photographs that will be taken.  Chandra's color for her wedding is blue, in varying shades.  I did consult pinterest to find a blue punch recipe.  It will look great in the pics!  And there are treats I envision dipping in white chocolate dyed blue.  And the desserts that are not blue and can't be injected with blue or topped in blue, well, they will be on blue plates, of course!

It wasn't until I described an idea I had to my good friend, who is helping plan the shower, that I realized how obsessed I had become, having shifted my eyes from the goal of blessing my niece and celebrating her upcoming wedding to the insistence that everything look amazing.  Oreo offers a cookie in the summertime with baby blue centers!  But summer is over, and the blue-filled Oreos are nowhere to be found.  "I have an idea," I exclaimed, to my co-planner, with my brown eyes now lit up blue with excitement.  "I can scrape the centers out of the cookies then dye the frosting blue and reinsert it into the cookies!"

Mind you, there are much more practical things which need to be accomplished.  "What's it like to be inside your head?" my friend asked, as she looked at me with concern.  We had to both laugh about how carried away I can get and obsess, elevating some unimportant details to the status of way important!

As I was emailing my sister this morning about all of this, God reminded me of a lesson He's been teaching me in other areas of my life:  Only He has to be amazing.  I offer Him back the gifts He provides, the ideas He provides with the strength He provides, and it's His job to make things amazing.

Maybe it's amazing enough that my niece survived a severely premature birth, entering the world weighing one pound, ten ounces, was rescued from the steps of a Calcutta orphanage and delivered into my sister's arms three months later.  That she grew to be a  God-loving, bright, beautiful young woman.  That God handpicked a young man who adores her to be her husband.  That we who love her -- the junior highers she ministers to, her family, friends, those she tutors in an after-school program -- get the opportunity to gather to shower her with love, to rejoice with her as she receives what God has for her.  Maybe the reasons He has given us to party together are enough and He's simply inviting us to join in the celebration.

I'm choosing to accept God's invitation to entrust the day, with its planning and details, to Him.

I hope he has blue sprinkles!