Who’s With Me?
A few years ago we set out on a vacation, and as if that wasn’t rare enough, we went west instead of south. Bruce has family in Colorado, so off we went. We drove for hours through the hills of Missouri and then into the flat lands of Kansas. We made a brief detour through Dodge City just to see where Marshal Dillion and Miss Kitty “lived”, spent the night at the Dodge House, and we had possibly the best breakfast ever on record at a local hash house. The people are lovely, but there are two things Kansas is full of…cows and windmills…and that combination can be an assault on your nasal passages.
I was thrilled to see the “Welcome to Colorado” sign, but for quite a while the terrain did not change. It was still flat and dry and dusty. I began to wonder if Harry in “Dumb and Dumber” was right when he said, “I expected the Rocky Mountains to be a little rockier than this.” It was puzzling. We checked into our hotel in Pueblo for the night and decided to give Colorado another chance in the morning. The sun greeted us on the road to Colorado Springs and as we drew closer, we began to see Pike’s Peak in the distance. “That’s more like it”, I thought.
Bruce’s relatives had a lovely home with a front porch view of the mountain and we barely set our luggage down before the guys began making plans to head on up the peak. So away we went, up the narrow, winding road, climbing higher and higher with every switchback. The higher we went, the more narrow the road, until the pavement disappeared into a gravel path. Guard rails, where present, were almost useless up there. I can still feel my heart in my throat when I think about looking over the edge of the mountain from the passenger’s side and listening to stories from the back seat of how many cars plunge over the side each year. As if on cue, we began to feel queasy. Altitude is a weird thing.
When we reached the very top, there was a Visitor’s Center where you could get a meal (provided you could still eat), buy a souvenir, and use the restrooms which I was glad to see no longer required a dime for admittance. It was June, but bitterly cold and incredibly windy. I was afraid to get too close to the edge for fear the wind would carry me right on over. (Yes, I know it would require gale force winds to get this frame airborne). Down below it was 80 degrees and balmy. On top of the mountain, it was 20 degrees and quite a shock for those who scaled the mountain in tank tops and shorts.
We hung around for a while, snapped photos, and after summoning our courage once again, headed back down the mountain. After a couple of days we traveled on north to Estes Park, and I have never seen anything as beautiful as those mountains rising in the distance.
I’ll spare you the details of our sightseeing adventures except to say that one afternoon we headed up Long’s Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park, and as we went higher, we began to see snow piled up on either side of the road, deeper and deeper, until the road was literally walled by six feet of snow. There were twelve foot poles in the snow delineating where the road ended and the edge began. I still gasp when I think about it. When we reached a flat pull-out near the top, far above the tree line where all the volcanic and glacial striations were visible, we got out of the car and began to try to make the final ascent on foot. It didn’t take long to figure out that was something an asthmatic didn’t need to be doing. The air was just too thin. I told Bruce to go on ahead and I would stay behind. He considered it. But while he was deliberating, dark clouds rapidly rolled in and it began to lightning. If you think lightning is scary at sea level, you should “feel” it at 14,000 feet. Just a bit too close for comfort. We couldn’t get those four tires back down the mountain and onto flat ground fast enough.
What a strange experience! We were so anxious to get up on those snow-capped mountains. The pictures we had seen in books and magazines and on television were breathtaking. It seemed like the ultimate destination. But what we discovered was that the view from the mountain top was just a picture of where we had been. We were so obsessed with reaching the top, so focused on the road, we missed the beauty around us on the way up.
What, you may ask, does all this have to do even remotely with gospel music, songwriting, or with anything else for that matter. Simply this. We all set our goals of where we want to go, the successes we want to achieve. We see that mountain of opportunity in the distance. It looks so inviting. Others have reached the summit and been successful. Why not us?
I’m learning that if you are determined to reach the top, there are a few things you should know. First of all, you’ve got to be patient. It’s not a straight stretch. Driving up Pike’s Peak, there are 150 switchbacks and steep hairpin turns. It takes 19 miles of switchbacks to traverse less than three vertical miles. The whole time you’re changing directions, back and forth. Success. Failure. Success. Failure.
Next, you’ve got to commit. You have to be prepared to complete the journey. No one ever reached the top of Long’s Peak by stopping at 13,000 feet. The road is narrow. People are following you and the higher you go there is nowhere to turn around. There is nothing more disappointing to a gospel music fan than to discover a great group, invest in their product, tell all their friends about them and then learn that they have disbanded. Where’s the commitment when the going gets rough?
Next, choose your affiliations wisely. Are they trustworthy and committed? Honestly, if Bruce had not been driving, I would probably still be sitting somewhere on that mountain road too paralyzed with fear to move. Surround yourself with people who keep their head on straight when the road gets steep…somebody who can see the road ahead when you’re too afraid to look.
Be aware of what you’re sacrificing to reach the top. The oxygen you took for granted down below will be in shorter supply at the summit. Just remember, you’re missing Little League games, piano recitals, and cozy evenings by the fire with the people you love. Time is oxygen. Is it worth it?
If you must climb, don’t forget to observe the beauty around you. It may be the scenery, yes, but it may be in the people you meet, some story you hear along the way, some memory you make, even if it’s just discovering a new hash house with a breakfast to die for.
Lastly, you may discover that the mountain top may not be at all what you expected. The top can be cold, lonely, strangely frightening and make you long for the good ole days safe at the bottom. And that’s okay.
For me, that mountain is still in the distance, but with the Lord’s help, I plan to keep on climbing. Who’s with me?
