Attempting to Fly

After four training weekends, countless hours of homework, a wilderness first aid course, and a ten-day training (in which we put all our knowledge to use), we were sent off into the mountains for our first trip. I’m the type of person who likes a lot of time to pack and prepare for things long in advance. Despite three months of doing just that, campers arrived and my state of receiving them was similar to that of a bird who had just attempted to fly through a clear glass window. And then, after a hard smack of rejection flutters around stunned on the ground. It took me about three days to get my legs back under me, before I felt like I came to and was tracking where I was and what I was there to do. The majority of my first week out in the mountains, I felt more scattered than any of the campers and I found a constant smattering of my things throughout our campsite- surrounding my pack. At one point I came over to find my co-guide packing my bag for me with a patient smile. Later I was told, “Welcome to being a first year” and to expect to feel this way (one step behind the rest) throughout the summer. Before we headed out of camp, we asked our campers their fears and expectations. Several of them told us boldly that they expected to have an encounter with God this week- expecting that He had some big things to teach them. What a daunting expectation to be voiced when I wasn’t sure we would ever get out of base camp! I know that as guides we are here to serve the campers and help facilitate their journey into the mountains, to create space for them to experience God through His creation. However, my human tendency was to stress out about what the campers were experiencing… as if I could better their communication with the Creator. The beautiful thing was, that amidst my chaos and human weaknesses, God was hard at work.
 The first few days, amongst my flustered state, it was difficult to see any evidence that God was meeting the participants expectations. However, slowly, as life stories unfolded we began to see old, unhealed wounds resurface and participants began to engage in prayer that had been silent at the start. One participant shared about the loss of parent. At the beginning of the trip, she portrayed an independent, self-sufficient, hard exterior. As the final days in the mountains passed, we watched her heart soften and ability to accept love and help grow. It is tough to describe the emotions you experience as you hear stories and deep, previously unspoken, emotions come pouring out of people. When else in life do we take time to dive deep into our hearts to identify and share our joys, passions, pain or sorrow with others?
 This first trip awed me. After our final ten day training trip I thought I was prepared for anything. We experienced all types of storms: high winds that shredded our tents in the middle of the night, lightning drills, sideways snow in a whiteout, freezing rain- I thought I was prepared for everything. Then, on the last day of descent with my campers, we hit the alder trees. My frustration hit a boiling point (that I was shocked to discover) and I found myself whacking every branch that snapped at me as if I could get back at it. Branches would slap me in the face, and then snag my pack and yank me backward. I have fully realized that I am on a journey much like the campers and I am definitely not in control. I do know that God is working intricately in a powerful way to meet me in those weaknesses. I have been truly humbled to witness how much work he was able to do as I stumbled along acting as the ‘guide’.
- Hannah Gary