Finding a love note when I needed it most.

I found a love note and at just the right time too.

Because I was struggling.

I was struggling to think straight, My head felt high above me like a balloon lifting, swaying – attached by nothing but a bit of thin string,

and my chest was burning as I fought to take in deep slow breaths.

With each step, my bad foot complained, my back was aching, and I had a doggone, persistent pinch in my neck and shoulders.

In summary, I was miserable.

But I did not stop moving.

I kept on…super slow…slug slow

and I wondered,

“Can I even do this?”

“Can I reach the peak?”

“Lord”, I said, “this fourteener is yours”

“And You know I want it.

You’ve seen me climbing

You’ve seen my pace

plodding…so slowly… so unsteady in my steps.

My body is betraying me and laughing at my goal, “to summit!”

Up ahead, a stream called me to rest. Gravity was carrying the cold cascading water down the mountain to the base where I began my climb so early this morning.

Removing my shoes and plunging my aching feet into the melted winter snow, was for a moment, beautifully refreshing and then..searingly painful! My feet felt as if they’d been set on fire!

Yanking them out from the gushing water I rubbed them on the spongy alpine turf, where Blue Columbine, Tiny Alpine Forget-Me-Nots, Marsh Marigolds and a bit of wild Yarrow grow hardy.  As I looked across the valley I could see the mountains surrounding me.  I took my socks and toweled off my feet making sure to dry between my toes and shoved my cranky feet back into my boots. Heaving myself up, I lifted my pack to throw it onto my shoulders. But I needed help to make sure it was positioned and latched correctly. Jeff had been behind me the whole way, all morning long, encouraging me and patiently trudging behind with his own pack. He made sure that I was good to continue the climb. I knew he wanted to reach the summit and I also knew he would climb much faster without me.

But we kept climbing together as husband and wife…a mom and a dad…in it… side by side. We were brokenhearted and beaten…weathered by loss…the sudden loss of our son. At the age of twenty Josh wasn’t trudging and plodding up his mountain path, he was pushing forward with strong legs and expansive lungs built by a summer of living, playing and working in the mountains.  He had such a zest for life when he suddenly lost his footing that day in 2020.

So why on earth would we choose to climb a mountain every July since the anniversary of his death? Wouldn’t we want to be almost anywhere else in the world than on a mountain? It’s not like we haven’t been asked that question before.

Josh loved nature, he loved a challenge, he loved the outdoors. He said he felt closer to God when he was in it. And we do too.

So we climb or hike to get through I guess. But on this particular climb my body was screaming to STOP. My mind, however, told me to keep going.  “You can go just one step at a time… even if it’s a micro step. You know the alternative. Do you really just want to go back down and sit and be engulfed by the memories of this terrible day?”

But there isn’t much of a choice for us. It is a day the calendar forces us to walk through every year.  With that in mind, I would rather climb, move, breathe and feel physical pain instead of just emotional pain.  Getting endorphins from physical exertion, while not comfortable in the process, has been therapeutic in my journey.

Making our way out of the valley, we sharply ascended to a field of nothing but rocks, lots of rocks which would be our terrain all the way up to the top.  My head was feeling even lighter than before and I placed each footstep with special care on the shifting rocks – my ankles turning and twisting. Frustrated I stopped and carefully perched on a pointy boulder to rest.

“We’ve climbed a long way”, Jeff points out. “Look how far you’ve come?!”

I saw it…

but I didn’t feel the accomplishment.  What I saw was the unfinished climb. We were getting so close to the top but it was steeper and more difficult than what we’d already covered. And again my body warned me “Hey! It’s time to quit”. My mind didn’t argue much that time but my…heart…began to break.

I did not want to fail this. I wanted to reach the summit as if to say “Death! You do not win!” “You will not stop me from living. “

My eyes scanned the vast mountain range encircling us. And I considered what conceding meant.

“God, you know I want to finish but I don’t think I can and I want Josh to be proud…proud to see his mom fight back and live.”

I rested.

I shifted my gaze across the valley to the other side. And then I saw it.

There, on a massive mountain was a small, white, heart. It was shaped from a patch of last winter’s snow. I stared hard at it. And then I heard, “Mom! You are good! It’s okay.” I heard this so plainly inside my heart that I had to hold my breath. I kept staring at that small patch and then moved my gaze to the horizon. With a wider focus I saw on the face of the biggest mountain a massive heart shaped bowl left by a glacier. That big heart was encircling the smaller snow heart!  And this time, again in my heart, I heard “I see you. I love you. I have always loved you with an everlasting, unconditional love just the way you are. Stop striving now.” I held onto this sacred moment never wanting to let it pass. And peace poured over my broken heart. All the emotion packed hard underneath a crust of denial – a denial that this was now my life began to soften and breakaway – my tears pooling and spilling over my cheeks. I could stop climbing that mountain now and know that I hadn’t failed anything or anyone.

Jeff and I still climb a daily mountain – a mountain of grief and we will until Jesus returns or takes us home. But death does not ultimately win, though the sting of it is brutal. And Not every day feels insurmountable anymore. There are days when I notice the vibrant colors and fully inhale the fresh air and see the possibilities to a new day.  And for those days that still come, the ones with the jagged flashbacks and a dogged, never ending trail, I think of God’s love note where a great big heart encircled a small, snow heart and how I was reminded of his love for me, for my family, and for my son whom he now holds.