First off, lo siento for randomly skipped weeks or a lack of a real update as to what goes on here. Generally, I am able to make it to a cafe, but sometimes I end up spending so much time trying to write something out that would sound coherant and relatively well-written that I run out of time and end up with nothing at all.
That said, the following is something I started last week so I might as well share it, even though it’s already a few times the size of something most people would be willing to read and to be honest I’m not quite sure where it’s going. I seem to be writing how I think. If I’m not careful, this could easily become the intro of the first volume of a trilogy, so I’ll just let you make of it as you will.
2/6
The steep path I was expected to follow was covered by cement this time, but while spiraling down Mombacho by foot this afternoon, I couldn’t help but remember, yet again, a sadder attempt to climb down a mountain a few years back and smile as to how far God has brought me since then.
Just as that night in MT, this afternoon we had assumed the day was about over. Plenty, bastante, more than enough pictures were taken, we had visited the coolest place ever (where one can see Lake Nica, its islands, Laguna de Apoyo, and a speck barely recognizable as the cathedral in Granada) twice (once getting there by way of the exit), and we even made it back a few minutes before the next truck was supposed to leave. We were early, especially by Nicaraguan standards, but as we should have learned in Omnetepe, buses, trucks, whatever don’t leave on time. The options were either to wait about three hours for the next or to make it down by foot, which supposedly would take about forty five minutes to an hour.
About an hour and a half later, the guys, who were a good bit ahead, could be heard making some type of animal noises signifying the sighting of the end. Seeing the shuttle that we would be taking back to Granada once again reminded me of the van that came to get us in Montana, but this time I could get in with a peaceful relief that wasn’t mixed with shame.
I’m constantly being brought back to that Leadertreks trip between my sophomore and junior year that I spent backpacking with a group from church, but only recently have I been able to speak of that week, never mind without the tears that have generally followed.
I think of wading through a river that Sunday afternoon, still within sight of the van, and wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. I think of standing at the top of an extremely steep incline Monday evening and letting myself become so paralyzed by fear of falling down it (which would have simply been a faster way of getting there) that the rest of the team had to go ahead and set up camp without one of the leaders and I. I think of Tuesday afternoon trying to climb back up that mountain and finding myself face down stubbornly insisting that others just pass by and let me sulk in peace. I think of Thursday morning and wishing that instead of team building activities, I had another day of hiking; another chance to prove myself to myself.
Thanks Val, for your transparency here. That makes ‘climbing the tower’ even more amazing! I’m so proud of you!
I Peter 1:3-7:
3Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, 5who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. 6In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 7These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.
I am proud of you Valerie (as always)! It is amazing seeing God refine you over the years. Keep up the good work!