Monday, July 16, 2012

Branded a Christian

Four months ago, I got a tattoo.  This wasn't my first, and much to my mom's chagrin, it probably won't be my last...but unlike the tattoos I chose at 18 or 19 years old, this one really did mean something to me.  I had spent a fair amount of time contemplating whether or not I wanted to take the plunge and get the new ink; it had been 10 years (almost) since my last tattoo, and I started thinking I might be too old, or that it might not really fit the corporate environment I work in.  After weighing the pros (many) and cons (none that couldn't be turned into pros), Evan made an appointment for a Saturday at 6pm.

It didn't take long; 15 minutes at best.  I wasn't nervous, and it didn't hurt.  When the artist was finished, he admired his work, and my choice: Romans 8:31, on the inside of my right forearm.


"...but if God is for us, who can be against us?"

This scripture has always been meaningful and important to me, but as I've grown in my faith and deepened my relationship with God, I have found myself living those words.  I knew that no matter what obstacles I faced, mountains I climbed, blows I was dealt...God had my back.  People would come into my life with agendas bent on hurting me or the ones I loved...but they were nothing to be afraid of, because God was on my side.  Knowing that He is with me through every peak and valley keeps me going.  It gives me the strength to carry on, it gives me the joy that I want to share with others, and it gives me the love I want to give the whole wide world.  God loves me, and I love Him.

Now, some people like tattoos, some people hate tattoos, and some people couldn't care less.  Not long after I had this done, an acquaintance noticed the new ink and commented, "Hmm...you know you've just branded yourself a Christian, right?"

Branded?  Well, what's so wrong with that?  Her statement caught me a little off guard (although she's never been one to hide what she's thinking, so I'm not sure why it surprised me...a graceful Southern belle she is not!) and I wasn't quite sure how to respond.  I'm certain I said something along the lines of, "Well, I am a Christian."

Later, reflecting on her words that may or may not have been intentionally negative, I realized something.  I wasn't branding myself a Christian.  I was declaring myself a Christian.  I was declaring the love, joy, happiness, strength, passion, hope and healing that I know, because Christ is my savior.  Who wouldn't want to know about it?  Should from the rooftops about it?  Share the good news with every single person they encountered?  I felt some guilt and shame for not recognizing what was, in that small conversation, the perfect opportunity to tell her why being a Christian is so incredibly awesome.  But I knew I wouldn't let that chance pass me by again.

In the past few months, my tattoo has led to many chats about my faith and God's love, and I've even had four deep and meaningful conversations with total strangers.  Each and every one professed their faith, their love of God, and the things He's done in their lives.  It has also presented the opportunity for me to explain the scripture, and what God's love is all about.

Tattoos aren't for everyone, and I'm not encouraging you all to run out and get fresh ink (although it would be kinda cool, right?) but, I've found that what was originally something I was doing just for myself has turned into something that has allowed me to witness and fellowship with others.  You certainly don't need a tattoo to do that...but just think of those ways we can visually express our love and joy, and what conversations those expressions could lead to.

I know I want to declare it.  I know I want to shout it into a great, big megaphone, and tell the world all about how awesome our God truly is.  But I suppose for now, I'll settle for conversations in the check-out lane at Publix.  Even the tiniest of seeds can grow into a mighty oak, right?


Saturday, July 7, 2012

Friend of Sinners

"...let our hearts be led by mercy." - Casting Crowns, "Jesus, Friend of Sinners"

Most of you know my husband is self-employed, and if you've ever owned a business (especially a small one), you know just how much you give of yourself to help your business grow.  Evan easily works 55+ hours a week...joyfully, thankfully and gratefully.  He is willing to make sacrifices in order to keep our business moving forward; the blood, sweat and tears poured into this is all his.  There is no man I know who works harder than Evan; there is no man I know who is as humble as Evan.  He recognizes and appreciates God's blessing in our life, no matter the circumstances.

He works six days a week, usually 12 hours a day.  He also volunteers to run the sound board at our church for both the 8:45 and 11:00 services on Sunday mornings.  The "down time" we share together is limited...a couple hours in the evening catching up on our favorite TV shows, our Saturday night "COPS" and homemade pizza date, and Sunday afternoon (if he isn't working in the yard).

One of the things we never, ever, ever get to do is have breakfast together, since he's out the door before I've even finished my coffee seven days a week.  On the rare occasion we get to have breakfast together, we usually head down to one of our favorite places, Stuff-A-Bagel.  It's the only restaurant in town where Evan can get his Taylor ham, egg and cheese sandwich (on a Kaiser roll with salt, pepper and ketchup), and I happen to love a good everything bagel with veggie cream cheese (and theirs is the best!)

This week we celebrated Indepdence Day.  Evan did have one small job to finish up that morning, but he decided to push it off until later in the day, so we could grab breakfast out.  And so, in my Woolworth's t-shirt and without a stitch of make-up on, we loaded up and drove on down. 

Walking into the restaurant, we passed a young man outside.  He looked tired.  He had a rolling suitcase and a backpack with him.  He had several tattoos.  I avoided eye contact; Evan said good morning.  I could tell the young man was going to ask something, so I urged Evan along, hurrying to the door so we could get inside.

A few minutes later, we were sitting in our regular booth, and the young man came inside.  He walked up to the counter, and requested a refill for his coffee.  One of the waitresses informed him they didn't give refills; however, another waitress who overheard the conversation gladly refilled his cup, letting him know it was no biggie, since it was a holiday.  I caught the look passed between the two waitresses, and understood that they considered him a nuisance, and that this probably wasn't his first time hanging out at the restaurant.

Our order was called, and Evan went up to the counter.  By now, the young man had refilled his coffee, and had managed to catch the eye of another couple enjoying their breakfast across the restaurant from us.  As I went to the counter to refill my own cup (without asking), I overheard parts of his conversation.  He had moved to Marco Island three months ago, after accepting a job with a contractor.  After three weeks, he was let go.  Around the same time, his wife (living up north, presumably) left him, taking their two young daughters with her, and he hadn't heard from her since.  He was now officially homeless.  He had been turned down at our local shelters because he isn't a Lee County resident.  It was an endless tale of misfortune.  Thinking only of my bagel, I went back to our booth, still avoiding eye contact.

Evan and I chatted about the weather, politics, what we would be grilling later that afternoon.  Eventually, I steered the conversation toward the young man, who was still yammering away with the other couple (whose breakfast was undoubtedly getting cold).  I told Evan how inconsiderate it was for this young man to interrupt their breakfast, and how glad I was he hadn't come to our table.  I also asked Evan to keep his head very still, blocking the young man from my line of sight, so I wouldn't inadvertently catch his eye and be forced to hear the sob story while my coffee got cold.  Evan didn't have much to comment on, and I could tell he most certainly was not sharing my feelings about this young transient,essentially panhandling in a restaurant.

Finally, the young man left.  He went outside, bummed a cigarette off another patron of the restaurant, and sat at a table under the shade.  He savored those last few sips of coffee.  I wondered what he was planning.

The couple from the back of the restaurant finished their breakfast, and went outside.  The husband, a burly man with a stern face, approached the young man.  I just knew he was going to tell him not to be so rude next time, and to let folks eat in peace.  He did no such thing.  The husband asked the young man to come inside with him, back to the restaurant.  Now, I just knew he was going to make this young man apologize to the waitresses for making them feel uncomfortable, and badgering them about a coffee refill.  But again, no such thing.

He walked the young man right up to the counter, and asked him to order asbsolutely anything on the menu he wanted, because he wanted to buy him breakfast.  If I'm being perfectly honest...I was stunned.  Evan gave me a knowing look...one of those, "See, it's not always what you think" looks that he's so famous for.

The young man ordered a phenomenal breakfast platter, a Yoo-Hoo, and another cup of coffee.  He thanked the husband endlessly.  The couple left, and the young man returned to his table outside, slowly enjoying each and every bite of the feast before him.

A few minutes later, the couple returned...with a Publix gift card, for the young man.

It was in that moment, watching the couple choosing to bless this young man instead of disregarding him entirely (as I had done), that I realized something about myself...I can be pretty selfish.  I was so careful to guard my time with my husband, to keep this rare breakfast date to ourselves, that I had completely neglected someone in need.  And not only had I turned my eyes, but I'd turned my heart.  I thought cruel, mean things about someone I didn't even know.  I judged him based on his appearance and behavior.  I avoided interacting with him, even saying a simple, "Good morning."

I don't believe I have felt such overwhelming shame and regret in a very long time.  Here I am, telling others how important it is for us to be kind to one another; to find ways to be the hands and feet, and to love everyone the same way Jesus loves us - unconditionally, and without judgment.  I was a walking contradiction of my own beliefs.  This was a reality check I wasn't quite prepared for.

I am human.  I make mistakes.  I sin.  I do not always live up to the image of God that I'd hoped for.  That morning, I understood that those actions aren't only hurtful and damaging to me, they are hurtful to others as well.

I prayed that morning for the young man, but I also prayed for myself.  I prayed for God to open my eyes, to show me what I'm missing (even the things I'm missing intentionally).  I asked for Him to fill me with love for all man again, because obviously I'd lost something along the way.  And I asked for Him to help me understand that while I value time with my husband, there are others who could value time with me...even if it's just a few minutes over breakfast.

PS - I've now decided that storing a few extra Publix gift cards in my wallet for occasions like that seems like a pretty good idea.  Amazing how your perspective changes from avoiding the opportunity to help, to seeking the opportunity...God's love is powerful, huh?

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Gaining, Losing and Finding Friends

Remember when you were five years old, and you had your very first "best" friend?  The friend who always let you have the pink My Little Pony, shared those gummy fruit snacks with you during afternoon snack time, and never told anyone you still slept with a night light on?  Then as a pre-teen, your best friend who kept your secrets, never told anyone about your first crush, and always saved you a seat on the bus?  As we grew older, the conversations and situations evolved, but the same idea of that "best friend", of close friends, remained the same.

It's amazing to consider the number of friends who have come and gone from our lives.  Some for good reason, and some, for reasons that are more difficult to explain.  In some cases, it was a blessing, and in others, it was painful.

Here's what I've learned, looking back at the friendships I've gained and lost over 28 years of existence: each change brought me closer to God, and helped me grow in my faith.  Even if it didn't occur right away, even if it took days, weeks, months (or in some cases, years) to understand why the transition occurred, I can easily say now that those moments were leading me to the place I needed to be in my walk.  And, because I'm quirky, I like to think of it as my, "friendship garden," which is based on our very real (and challenging) garden at home last Spring.   Here we go...

Losing friends = pulling weeds (sometimes).  Getting rid of the various weeds that found themselves at home in our garden was important, but it wasn't always my favorite thing to do.  I'm certain we could all reflect back on some of those questionable friendships from years back; the ones during our teenage and young adult years (or even our "old" adult years), who may have influenced us to make choices that weren't the best.  And I'm certain we know exactly why those friends didn't make it to our current lives (for me, it's because many of them weren't "friends" to begin with). 

Those not-so-great relationships were like the prickly weeds finding their way into my cilantro.  At first, they blended right in, and I didn't notice them, or see the harm in them. Then, it became more apparent they certainly did not have my cilantro's best interest in mind...so while it wasn't fun, I did need to rid the garden of those weeds.  Sort of like ending those relationships...not always fun, not always easy, but necessary.

But what about the good relationships that have changed, or been removed, from our circle?  Well, for me, those are the carrots that just wouldn't grow.   I loved those carrots.  I babied those carrots.  I watered them, fed them, talked to them...I had some really great times with those carrots.  Then, when it came time to harvest and I pulled those carrots...well, I found out that those carrots had actually just grown into little round carrot nubs.  Oh sure, they were edible, but they just weren't what I was expecting - like some of the good friendships we've lost along the way (well, minus the edible part).  Even a brief friendship can serve to direct you on your path.  But, even in their brevity, those carrots gave me joy, and taught me a few lessons (dig deeper holes).

Life is ever-changing.  Folks get married, start families, change careers, move to knew cities...these transitions will bring new friends, and leave old friends.  And while it can be painful and unexpected, I have found that, over time, losing a friendship still helped me grow closer to God.  Because for the friends (the good ones) I feel I've lost, I've also developed relationships and friendships with others who have continued to bless my life.  It's almost as if God knew exactly how long I needed some people walking with me, and when their accompaniment on my journey was complete.  Also, not all salads need carrots...

And this is where the gaining friends part comes in, which I'd liken to having a dozen unexpected, yet wonderful, watermelons.  When I planted our watermelon seeds last year, I wasn't really aware of how many watermelons we'd be getting...I counted on two or three, and within a few weeks, it was obvious we were becoming the watermelon capital of Cape Coral.  There were so many - three times what I'd expected.  We were blessed with melons.

And when I think of the friends I'm blessed with now, I am amazed at how they entered my life, and I'm incredibly thankful and grateful for each and every single one.  I understand that God has placed these people in my path for a reason, and knowing that helps me to understand why God maybe removed some of the other folks.  God knows what we need; he knows where we are, and where we could be heading, and where he wants to use us...and he'll put the right people in your path to get there, if we're just open and receptive to the changes in life.  By the way, watermelon is delicious in salad.

Finding friends (aka, "I totally forgot I planted those strawberries").  You know, those people who you had friendships with before, but for whatever reason, fell out of touch.  Sometimes, those people come back into your life...and it's an incredible, wonderful surprise - just like those strawberries, planted in February, that didn't arrive until two months later.  I had completely forgotten about them, but I was so happy when they arrived!

For me, those "found" friendships are ones I place great value on.  People who we may never have seen or heard from again, but who we've managed to reconnect with.  People we wouldn't have necessarily been close friends with before, but have found that connection now in life.  People we have more in common with than we initially realized.  People who we may have been separated from because we all needed just a little more time to learn and grown, before we could start walking together again.

Sometimes God puts folks in (or removes them from) our path...and sometimes, we do it of our own free will.  Recognizing that life is constantly changing, and knowing the relationships that have helped (as opposed to hurt) our walk is vital.  It's incredibly important to understand, value, respect and grow those friendships - like the garden.  Pull the weeds, water the sprouts, fertilize the ground...the bounty will be plentiful.  End garden analogies.

Friendships aren't always easy, and there will always be challenges.  But, making the effort to keep and nurture those relationships, even during times of difficulty, is what we are called to do.  We're called to serve, to encourage, and to love others...including our friends.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Perfect Timing

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you, and not to harm you.  Plans to give you hope and a future." - Jeremiah 29:11

Being a small business owner, we are often faced with challenges that test our strength, fortitude, and even our trust in God.  If you own, or have owned, a small business; if you've ever been self-employed, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

It's a risk, a chance that we take, investing so much of our own time and money into a service or product, hoping and praying the effort will pay off.  Oh sure, I do have my own career outside of our business, but as many of you also know...today's economy calls for a two-income household.

And I will happily and thankfully say that, even though the economy continues to challenge the nation, Evan has done well.  Each and every day, we are endlessly grateful for the blessings God continues to show us.

Even though we are blessed, situations will arise that cause me to question our path and God's plan for our lives - as if we're doing something wrong, missing His point, heading in the wrong direction.

Once of the greatest challenges we face with a property maintenance business is finding good employees.  Not to speak poorly of property maintenance and handyman businesses, or the construction industry in general, but it's a seemingly well-known fact that this type of work can draw in a certain type of individual.  Rather than pigeonhole the entire industry, I'll just give you a quick run down of the top five issues we run into with finding employees for EPG Home Services, LLC:

  1. Has a car, but no driver's license.  It's either suspended ("I didn't even know I got those tickets!") or revoked (DUI, habitual traffic offender, or the most popular...back child support).
  2. Has a driver's license, but has no car.
  3. Criminal record.  Look, I don't care if it was shoplifting when you were a teenager...I'm not going to hire you.  After having one employee steal a $600 drill, we learned that being too trusting, and too willing to give second chances, could be a bad thing.
  4. Failure to purchase and use an alarm clock.  Work begins at 7am, not 11:30am.
  5. They're from Jersey. :) Which means they're unfamiliar with Florida building codes, and they can't take working in the heat.  This isn't an offensive statement...you can ask my husband, the Jersey boy, how he feels about it, too!
Early this year, we ran through half a dozen or so employees, and very quickly.  We've learned that giving someone two days to prove their skill and dependability is really all they need to screw it up.  And, even if it seems cruel, we've grown accustomed to letting folks go. 

But now, summer is upon us...typically a slower part of the year.  Only this year, God has blessed us with an abudance of work, which we totally appreciate...but we know that Evan just can't do it on his own.  And so, with our one true, dependable employee off to Georgia for the summer (thanks, Kathleen!) we knew we'd need to find someone else.  It was this "finding someone else" thing that really started giving me an ulcer...

After running through two Jersey-ites (no car, no alarm clock variety), I was exhausted.  I just couldn't understand God's timing...He had given us work to carry us through many weeks, yet we didn't have the help to get the jobs done.  And I really began questioning what the Big Guy was thinking up there.

Two weeks went by, with Evan working seven days a week, and usually 12+ hours a day (except Sundays, which he limited to six hours) and still, I saw no end in sight.  And so, we did something then that we should have done long before...we prayed.  We prayed on a Sunday evening before dinner that God would help us, show us what we were missing, let me understand why he'd give us work without the ability to complete it all.

The next day, I did something I've never, ever done...I checked Craigslist.  Here's the thing about Craigslist...most of those folks who are posting looking for work are unlicensed, uninsured, and have zero experience.  They're looking to make a quick buck.  And they're taking work from honest and hard working business owners like us, who have made the financial commitment to properly license and insure ourselves.  People, listen: if they show up to your house wearing flip-flops, driving a Ford Astrovan, and they need to borrow one of your ladders...you may need to reconsider.  And, as an insurance agent, I can't begin to tell you the repercussions of one of these Joe Schmoe Quick Bucks injuring themselves on your property.  Be aware of who you're hiring to do the job, please.

Back to Craigslist.  After scrolling through an endless sea of "WILL PAINT ANYTHING FOR $300!" posts, I found one that sort of stuck out to me, a potential candidate.  He owned his own business (licensed and insured!) and had been living and working in Florida for 14 years (sorry, Jersey...).  His post simply stated that he was looking for some extra work during the slow season...and boy, did we have it.  I decided that this was one Craigslist post that could actually work.

Evan called him, and agreed to have him come out to a painting job.  Over the course of two days, they got to know each other very well...Jeremy didn't hit any of the top five issues we have (this was a rarity).  Married, young child at home, knowledgeable, dependable, nice, no criminal record...and, a Christian.  This was also a rarity in our industry.  And so, Evan and Jeremy began talking about their faith...their journeys to where they are today, the ways God had worked in their lives.

Then Jeremy told Evan something that sealed the deal for me, and reminded me that God does know what He's doing after all.  The very Sunday we prayed for help, Jeremy prayed for work.  His post on Craigslist?  The very first time he's ever done that.  Ever, in 14 years.  This truly was a God thing, in my eyes.  There was a small window of time that passed between our prayers Sunday night, and finding his post on Monday morning.  And he's been a blessing to our business ever since.

This lesson reminded me of many things...that sometimes, you have to weather the storms to see the rainbow.  That even when we're unsure of what direction God is leading us in, you just need to sit down and enjoy the ride.  And that God's timing is always, always perfect, even if we don't realize it at that very moment.  I know His timing is perfect - Jeremy is proof of that.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Religion v. Relationship

When the topic of Christianity and faith comes up, it seems there’s always at least one person who tells me they’re “religious.”  Usually, this statement is followed by, “I was raised Lutheran” or, “My grandfather was a Baptist preacher” or my favorite, “I go to church with my family every Christmas and Easter.”  And while those things are, in their own right, well and good…they aren’t enough.  Part of me wants to follow up their declaration with one simple question: So, you inherited Christianity?

Being a Christian isn’t really passed down like red hair and freckles, and it’s not handed to you in a box with a bow like a birthday present from grandma.  It’s not a knick-knack in a closet, kept safe and sound, out of harm’s way until those twice-a-year special occasions when you wipe off the dust bunnies.  You don’t “get” religion…because to me, the key aspect of being a Christian is just that – it’s not about religion.

Being a Christian is about having a relationship with Jesus, our Savior.  It’s about knowing God, loving God, spending time with God, and above all else, obeying God.  And not just when it’s convenient; not just twice a year, and not just when you’re with your friends and family who are Christians.  It’s a "24-7-365-until your very last breath this side of Heaven" type of deal.

For those folks who think attending every Sunday does the trick, here’s the kicker: going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than sitting in a garage makes you a Buick.  Because if you don’t have that relationship, you’re just a pew potato.

So how do you get this coveted relationship?  Well, I can tell you that no “friend request” is necessary, because Jesus isn’t on Facebook.  You can post as many sparkly, blinking “I Love Jesus!” photos as you want, but that’s not going to do it.  You can’t just talk about it (or post about it)…you have to start living it.

Accept Christ as your Savior.  Talk to God.  Pray.  Read the Bible.  Spend time in fellowship with other Christians.  And get out of the pews, and into the streets.  Witness.  Volunteer.  Love.  Be the hands and feet of Jesus.  Understand that God doesn’t just want an hour of your time each week – he wants you all the time.

Some of you might want to pose the question, “So why bother with church?”  And that’s a great question.  We go to church because God calls us to, but when you’re there, you’re not attending a lecture or a concert.  Sure, you’re there to listen, but also to learn and grow in your faith, in your relationship with God, and in your relationship with others followers through fellowship.  Having a relationship with your fellow Christians is equally as important as having a relationship with God.  You just can’t do it on your own.  You need a support system, extended family and friends, folks to help keep you accountable, and disciples you can go out and minister with (that whole hands and feet thing, remember?)

Get out of the “religion” mindset, and get into the living, breathing, loving relationship.  Your life will forever change, for the better.  Promise.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

Living and Learning

It’s that time of year…school is coming to a close, summer is just around the corner, and everywhere I go, there are signs of upcoming high school graduations – seniors preparing to leave the nest, and enter those first stages of “adulthood.”  Remember those days?  The world at your finger tips, your future entirely planned out, ready to take on the world?
While driving home from work one evening this week, one of my new favorite songs from Sidewalk Prophets came on the radio – “The Words I Would Say.”  Listening to the lyrics did what most songs to do for me; waxing nostalgic, thinking of my youth, and really considering what I should have known all those years ago.

It’s been a long, long time since I was 18…in fact, it seems like an entire lifetime ago.  And if I had to think of the person I was then compared to the person I am now, I suppose I’m in a “new” life, figuratively speaking.

But if I had the chance to talk to my 18-year-old self, the one who knew it all, there are a few important pieces of wisdom I’d love to impart:

  1. Choose your friends wisely.  Your circle of influence will do just that – influence you.  Surround yourself with people who love you for the person you are; who want nothing but your friendship and love in return, and who encourage you on your walk. 
  2. Choose your actions wisely.  If what you’re about to do ended up on the front page of the New York Times…how would you feel?
  3. Know when you should not be following the crowd.  Take the opportunity to be a leader to those who are lost.
  4. Stop worrying about what others think.  You are a unique individual, created by God to fulfill His purpose.  And as the old saying goes…God don’t make no junk!
  5. Value yourself.  Love yourself.  Respect yourself.  Believe in yourself.
  6. Never give up hope.  Never underestimate His power.  Know that even when the odds don’t seem to be in your favor, when you feel as if the world has turned against you, or when you’ve reached your lowest point, God is always, always, always there for you.  Let Him take care of you.
  7. Never be afraid to talk to an adult about what you’re struggling with.  Believe me, the adults have been there, too.
  8. Forgive, and forget.  Seriously.
  9. Luke 10:27.
  10. Pray, pray, pray, pray, pray.
Maybe those were things I did know at 18, but just stored away in some box in my mind, believing they weren’t important concepts and life rules at the time.  This isn’t to say I regret decisions in my youth; I may not be proud, but I know I’m forgiven, and because of that, I’ve let the past go (see #8). 

I suppose those words I wish I’d spoken to myself all those years ago still apply today – I think we all have instances where our 18 year old self can pop back up again.  Those are the days I am extra thankful for God’s love and grace.

I’m not sure if we ever really “grow up.”  I know that I still face challenges today, and I’ll most likely be a work in progress for the rest of my life.  And that’s okay.  I didn’t have it all together then, but I know I’m getting there now.

Monday, April 23, 2012

LOL, God...LOL. :)

Note: I struggled to find a scripture about God loving a good joke, or having a sense of humor, or creating the platypus.  But, if you have one...please share! - K

Ah, vacation.  Just the sound of those three sweet syllables evokes a feeling of peace, calm and general happiness for me.  Vacation is one of those things that we eagerly anticipate and count the days until its arrival.  Every year, Evan and I venture north to Bryson City, NC – our absolute all-time favorite place to be.  We took our first trip there in October of 2004, celebrating both our recent engagement and my 21st birthday (a trip to the Biltmore House winery was a must!) and save for a few years of veering off the NC path, we’ve returned nearly every fall since then.  This year, we decided on a spring trip.

We just love being in the mountains.  There’s no other place that puts us more in touch with the true awesomeness of God’s creation.  Staring up at the stars at night, watching the sun rise over the mountains at dawn, listening to the birds chirp…completely uninterrupted by TV, phones, computers, people, and the every day hustle and bustle, it’s just absolute heaven.

We’re big hikers.  No, not when we’re at home in the flat land.  Southwest Florida’s weather isn’t really conducive to hiking, save for those two or three days in February where the temps seem to plummet to mid-20s, only to reach 70 again by the end of the week.  And even if the weather was perfect, there’s just not much to “hike” down here.  Oh sure, we could hit some of the preserves, or venture to Ocala, and we probably will some day, but to me, nothing could match the magic of NC. 

Once we’re in the mountains, it’s on.  Our first hikes out of the gate this year totaled an easy eight miles, which was a great warm-up.  We hiked along Kimsey Creek, then up to Big Laurel Falls and Mooney Falls.  These are off Forest Road 68, near Standing Indian Campground.  If you’ve never traveled a forest road, you’re missing out.  Essentially, your vehicle becomes one of those skilled mountain goats that balance on the edge of cliffs, daring to reach for the loan dandelion peeking through a crack.  Many of them are precarious, but so worth the risk.

On day two, we decided to hike a portion of the Appalachian Trail that was highly recommended by one of the friendly gals at Nantahala Outdoor Center.  It’s a moderate hike, not too difficult, just lengthy.  We started at Winding Stair Gap, right off Highway 64 near Wayah, and would end at Siler Bald.  Once you’re at Siler Bald (a mountaintop with little to no growth other than grass) you get these phenomenal near-360 degree views of the Smokies.  Incredible.  Nine miles total, in and out.

The hike started off great.  Weather was gorgeous, in the low 60s and partly cloudy.  The trail was easy to follow, as we gradually left Laurel Creek and ascended the mountain.  We ran into several AT thru-hikers along the way, making the trip from GA to ME.  All were friendly, and most were heading to the shelter at the top.  After a couple hours, and a half mile detour, we reached the bald.  The trail had been a little muddy going in, as it had sprinkled a bit on and off near the middle of the day.  Once at the top, we picnicked lunch and snapped photos.  The skies had turned from partly cloudy to overcast, and it seemed rain would be making its way through again.  A few loud thunderclaps erupted, and we figured it would be best if we made our way back down.

On the way out, we past half a dozen more AT thru-hikers, in three different groups.  All were on their way to the bald, staying overnight at Siler Shelter.  All were somewhat impressed with the folks from flat land, putting in so many miles while vacationing.  One hiker, an Iraq war vet and Combat Medic, said no amount of training he did while enlisted prepared him for hiking the AT.  We all swapped stories (theirs were, of course, more interesting than ours) and parted ways.

About a half mile after our farewells with the last group, the thunder really picked up.  The sky was now a deep purple; no longer a soft gray, with sunbeams peeking through.  We were still high enough up in the mountain that the tree cover wasn’t the best; most trees were still sprouting spring leaves, leaving bare branches as our protection.  Rain began to trickle down, at first a mist, then a real thunderstorm.  We threw on our extra thermals (no hats or weather proof clothing for us day hikers) and we carried on.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was really just a mile or so, the rain finally let up.  We stopped to wring out our soaked thermals, adjust our soggy socks, and take a breather.  We laughed at our luck, getting rained on during a beautiful hike.  We figured this would be yet another tale from vacation we’d pass on to our kids and grandkids.

With three miles left to go to reach the trailhead, we continued on, knowing more storms could be looming.  Our “halfway” point to 64 was Panther Gap; after that, just a couple miles to go.

A bright flash of lightning lit up the clearing sky, and I wondered if those hikers had made it to the shelter yet.  I also counted the seconds to the thunderclap, while thinking I’d never researched to see if that old wive’s tale was actually an accurate way of judging the storm’s distance.  I made it to five before the boom filled the mountains, reminiscent of a Fourth of July finale.  Evan made a crack about it raining again, and I remember telling him he’d surely jinxed us.

We might have made it a quarter mile or so in the mild weather before what I originally thought was a monsoon kicked in (so much for the old wive’s tale).  This time, the storm didn’t begin with a sprinkle…it turned on like a faucet.  No, that might not even be an accurate description…it was as if a giant water balloon was being held over our heads, and someone pricked it with a pin, causing a deluge.  The rain was so heavy, you couldn’t see the trail.  And, because it was nearing 4:30p, the temperature had dropped from an oh-so-pleasant 64 degrees to a man-I-wish-I-had-long-underwear 45 degrees.  After a few hundred more yards, the concept of avoiding wet portions of the trail disappeared, as we were literally walking through a creek.  Boy, was this rough!

Finally, we reached Panther Gap.  No stopping, no wringing out wet clothes or adjusting soggy socks, we just powered through.  This meant only a couple miles to go.  I knew that once we reached Swinging Dick Gap (yes, really – probably some AT hiker’s joke) that we would be less than a mile from the trailhead, which meant less than a mile from the safety of our truck.  Onward, we sloshed.

Many times during our sloshing down the trail, we made “Oregon Trail”-esque comments – “Double team the wagon!” or “Use ropes!” or “Evan has died of dysentery!” (we have a very unique sense of humor). 

As we closed in on Swinging Dick Gap, I could hear Evan behind me uttering small cries of pain, which immediately caused me to believe my husband was sliding down the mountainside, leaving me alone in the pouring rain on the AT nearing dusk and surrounded by hungry (yet friendly) hikers.  I called back, just to make sure he was okay (no taking your eyes of the trail in a monsoon, or certain death awaits) and he hollered, “It’s HELL!” to which I thought, “Well, not exactly – maybe God’s idea of a haha funny joke, but not hell…”  He repeated his words, and I realized he didn’t mean hell…he meant hail.  And sure enough, just when I’d thought that God’s greatest crack was the duck billed platypus – we found ourselves in a hailstorm.

Golf balls rained from the sky, beaning us in the head and filling the muddy rivets in the trail (“Your oxen are stuck!”).  On the plus side, the rain had let up a bit.  Also, I’ve learned that hail hurts exactly as much as you think it would.  And now, not only were we focusing on not sliding down the mountain in a river of mud, but also on not twisting an ankle in the neat little igloo piles forming in every bend.  Somehow, we made it through Swinging Dick Gap with our bones intact.

One would think that the monsoon, and resulting hailstorm, would be enough for one trip back, but you’d be wrong.  On the hike in, you cross Laurel Creek three times – two of these crosses are minor, taking only two or three steps – but one of these crossings is a bit wider (“Ford the river!”) and requires some skill and balance on a long, skinny log.  Well, if you’ve never seen a creek or river rise after a rainstorm, think of what happens to your back porch when you leave the water hose on in the pool for three or four hours.  That’s right, some of your patio furniture just might float away.

The first two crossings went as well as can be expected, but at the final, our neat little log was now beneath the raging (at least from my POV) waters of Laurel Creek.  And while Ev decided he could, in fact, find and balance on this log, I used my years of Oregon Trail training and, that’s right, forded the creek.

By the time we hit the final crossing, the hail stopped, and the rain turned to a light trickle.  But we were still soaked to the bone.

Now, here’s what I take away from this adventure…some folks I know would probably have been pretty ticked about the rain, and vehemently mad about the hail, and most likely cursing the skies by the time they reached Laurel Creek.  But, the Cokes found the whole thing not only amusing, but downright fun.

Yes, it was raining, monsooning and hailing; it was frostbite inducing weather, and we only had one towel between us to share.  But truth be told, it was a blast!  If you can’t laugh about these situations, if you can’t find the humor, what’s the point?  God didn’t give us horrible weather for punishment…weather just happens.  But it’s what we do with it that makes the difference.  Me being upset that my underwear were probably visible through my sweats wasn’t going to stop the rain.  So why get angry?  Why not just appreciate what we’ve been given, and have fun with it?

This adventure did teach me one thing: it really, truly, honestly can get worse (hello, hail).  But, it also taught me that just when you think you’ve hit your limit, you can carry on, and be all the better for it.  We can’t always help the outcome, but you can control how you view and accept it.

Our nine miles on the AT was fabulous, and the three miles of trying weather only add to the tale.  And now, if you hear one of the Cokes mention that, “Nothing is harder than Swinging Dick Gap in a hailstorm!”…you’ll know it’s true! J