Unencombered

I woke this morning to a call from my sister after an appointment with a surgeon.  My momma is in rough shape.  For 40 years she has been a one armed, one legged wonder.  Nothing stops her mobility or quest to see the world.  She's a fighter.  But today we learned that her half working body was failing her.  Her rotator cuff on her working arm is in terrible shape.  Her movement on that arm isn't working in her favor.  And we are faced with some really tough decisions.  Surgery?  Ride out a degenerative condidition as she opposes surgery?  The options are not ideal.  None of them.  And as sorrow and fear gripped my heart, I chose to use my body to its fullest.  With her as my motivation, I hiked Mt. Diablo.

Hiking is my new jam.  I am obsessed with finding and exploring new places.  I live so close to so many hikes that climb the way to eye candy and I find myself unable to stop exploring it all.  I am surged with a need to take it all in.  Because I can.  My body is able.  

I hate that hers is not.

I don't understand why she has suffered so many physical limitations but I am propelled by this need to take it all in because my body can go the distance at this point of time.  She would do it if she could and she instilled a passion for hiking way back in my younger years when she probably shouldn't have.

As a child, my family participated in a group called the Tahawus hikers.  It started long before I was born- a large group of families would hike the three miles into John's Brook Lodge for Memorial Day weekend.  We'd each show up equipped with our packs, our clothing requirements for the weekend and space for shared food.  At the base, we'd divvy up supplies into our packs and then make the trek to the lodge.  Once at the lodge we'd set up a kitchen, girl's bunk, boy's bunk and community space.  From there we'd choose day hikes to various peaks in the Adarondack mountains.  For the better part of three days we would rock out hikes, play in a brook, share community meals and engage in togetherness.

I went a few times but one time stands out in my mind.  It was the year that my momma chose to go with.  Yep, my one armed, one legged momma made the trek.  She didn't carry a pack, but allowed the greater group to divvy up her clothing, and hiked the three miles to the lodge.  With a cane and limited mobility.  And she nailed it.  She never waiverd.  She never complained.  She was slow.  She encountered challenges on damp parts of the trail.  She accepted help when necessary and tapped into her "I can do this" spirit.  

As child watching her momma take on this challenge, I had mixed emotions.  There were moments when I watched her in awe.  Moments where I was annoyed with her pace.  Moments where I was surprised by her sense of adventure and determination.  And each of those moments shaped me.  

When we got to the lodge, my momma didn't just sit back and let the greater group care for her.  She jumped in and was a part of the group.  She contributed and did the best she could to pull her weight.  

I remember the first day well.  One group of hikers set out to hike Mt. Marcy, the highest peak in the region.  There were three other hikes to choose from.  My momma chose to participate.  She did a hike that would take her by some waterfalls that she was looking forward to seeing.  I remember that there was some concern amongst the group, curious if letting her go was against her best interest.  Mr. Mathews, the head of the hiking team, was worried that she wouldn't be able to handle the terrain.  But not wanting to deter her, and knowing her as a hiker before she became handicapped, Mr. Mathews gave his blessing for her to hike.  My momma insisted that I do Mt. Marcy.  I remember her excitement well as I left with my group.  She wanted me to see the best of the best and she didn't want to hold me back.  Selfishly, I was happy to do so.

I remember getting back to the lodge after completing an amazing hike, expecting to see my mom who had gone a much shorter distance.  Much to everyone's dismay, the group that was with my mom had not yet returned.  We played in the creek and helped prepare dinner.  Looking back, there was a sense of fear from the adults as to why the shorter and less challenge taking hikers had not yet returned.  And yet, they tried to shield me from it.  There was this strange vibe that everything was fine, when nobody actually knew it truly was fine.  Nobody wanted me to worry.

Just a bit before dinner, several hours after they should have arrived, my momma's group marched into view and returned to the lodge.  I distinctly remember a cheer erupting as my mother rounded the bend.  The rest of the 40 or so hikers were so excited to see her standing, in one piece, finishing what she had set out to accomplish.  And I remember the fear lifting in my heart and the joy settling in as if it were yesterday.  My mom was ok.  

I don't remember much else about the weekend- just little tidbits- but my mother's accomplishment and the support from the greater group has always stood out in my mind.  I learned that weekend that sometimes, pushing your body and tapping into muscle memory, is huge.  I watched my mother do something that she shouldn't have been able to do and then witnessed the joy she felt from accomplishing a physical feat.  It meant the world to her and it impacted those in her presence in huge ways.  

You can do what you set out to do.  It isn't easy.  It takes time.  It requires patience.  It requires support.  But it CAN be done.

And so today, with my very able body, I hiked to the top of my little world.   And as I hiked I thought about a lot of things.

I have no idea why my mother, a woman who craves the physical accomplishment, has had to suffer so much.  And as I grieve for the challenges that continue to face her and how the failings of her body continue to limit her, I choose to celebrate.  Because this is a woman who doesn't back down.  She is a fighter.  I don't know what tomorrow holds.  I can't predict how her body will react to the stresses that have been place upon it.  But I do know that she is of able mind and with that she will rise above.  And for that I cheer, cry tears of joy and propel myself forward to do the things that she can't do any longer but taught me to do.

And I don't worry.  Because I as I take in these breathtaking views, celebrate friendship, and accomplish new feats, I know that the maker of this breathtaking beautiful world has her right in the palm of His hands.  Do I understand the why's?  Not even a tiny bit.  But I know beyond explanation that it is all going according to His plan.  Will it be hard?  YES!  Will it come with challenges?  YES!  But I know that it is the way it supposed to be.  How do I know this?  I can't explain it, but the wild flowers growing randomly speak volumes to my heart about how the maker of this world has a Master plan.