Thankful for an amazing weekend!

Very rarely does the weather cooperate for sunny outdoor adventures on Memorial Day weekend here in the northwest. I am sooo glad ‘09 bucked the trend. I’m not sure this weekend could have been any more perfect, both in terms of weather and activities.

The camping trip to Panther Creek was a ton of fun. Big thanks to Ted for reserving the sites and organizing the whole shenanigan. Among the highlights:

- Ted getting pulled over on the way there for “expired tags and weaving all over the road.” (There was a third reason the officer gave, I don’t remember.) Don’t worry, it was only Ted holding a bag of cookies and simultaneously eating and driving that caused the weaving.

- The delicious food. Let’s face it, it’s one of the highlights of camping. With everyone pitching in to contribute something, we ate very well all weekend.

- Saturday’s hike to Falls Creek Falls. Wow. Those falls are gorgeous. I felt like I had been transported to the Amazon.

- Krista’s t-shirt.

- Backwoods Olympics (ok, this one is a bit of an inside joke.)

- The “1 1/2 mile” hike (said Ted) that took us almost two hours and back to camp with barely enough daylight to see.

- I personally enjoyed having some competition for the role of the weirdest person on the trip. I’ll let you guess who that competition is.

- The absolutely breath taking beauty of God’s creation, and the ability to experience it and enjoy it with good friends.

After a great weekend of camping, returning home late Sunday night to a hot shower and my own bed was a delight. As if the weekend could possibly get any better, Memorial Day itself I got to explore some new waterways via kayak with my friend Sybil, breaking in her new kayak and paddle. Neither of us had paddled Smith and Bybee Lakes in North Portland, and it was a beautiful spot. Lots of calm water with hours and hours of potential paddling area and views of Mt. St. Helens, Adams and Hood. Ah yes.

I’m thankful to live in the best place on earth, for flawless weather all weekend long, and good friends with whom I can have adventures. God is good.

Just about ready for summer!

No pun intended, I promise.

With the unseasonably beautiful weather and high temps the last few days, it has us rain and snow soaked northwesterners turning our thoughts toward the upcoming sunny days of summer. I know I’m not the only one who braved shorts during this pleasant sunny spurt.

I mused aloud just yesterday that I feel sorry for spring; if sympathy for an inanimate thing can exist. The moment it rears its head folks automatically start counting down for summer, as if wishing away spring altogether.

Spring is a conflicted season for me. Being a ski bum, it’s always a sad day when I wash the snow gear and pack it away for the rest of the year. While I do so with hesitation, I also revel in the thought of the fun that lies ahead in the coming months. Music festivals, BBQs, camping, wakeboarding/boating, trips to the swimming hole, hiking and more. No other time of year (besides the holidays) do adventures outside of work take center focus in my mind, and things like work fall into their appropriate latter place.

Yes, there are still a few more months of spring rain mixed with showers before the glorious weather gets consistent. And fortunately, ski season is still going strong for at least another month. But oh, summer is coming!

Christians and gay people

Here’s a quick snippet of a conversation I recently overheard:

Person 1: Well, what else can you say about Christians?
Person 2: (Muttered) Well, they hate gay people…

While there is an undeniable cultural divide between the church and the gay community, and those such as myself that are deeply rooted in the church hear about the perception of Christians as gay-haters, it still shocked, startled and saddened me that to hear this with my own ears.

The image that flashed in my mind upon hearing it was of half-witted, ill-intentioned “Christians” picketing with hateful phrases on signs in response to pro-gay activity. You know, the images the media loves to capture and replay much to the horror of rational believers.

What I wanted to and should have said in reply to that which I overheard is, “only ignorant Christians hate gay people.”

It might seem a little harsh to call them ignorant (the picketing breed and those who carry that attitude without signs), but as the saying goes, “the truth hurts.” To have such a spiteful, self-righteous attitude toward those with a different lifestyle is beyond unacceptable. Especially under the guise of being a follower of Christ, whose second most important commandment is to love your neighbor as yourself.

I call such folks ignorant because while publicly condemning the sin of others, they seem to forget that God’s grace abounds to ALL PEOPLE (John 3:16) and that the sin from which they’ve been rescued (Romans 3:23) is no less destructive than that which they condemn.

It’s frustrating to me that the ignorance and misbehavior of a few taint the reputation and perception of Christ followers across the board. Thus the statement I overheard. But lest I also risk being a hypocritical sign holder, let me back up for a second.

While the root of the problem is simply a failure to apply the teachings of the Bible to every day life, it seems to me that some of it may stem from fear and not knowing how to react to such a lifestyle. That is often true for me. It’s so much easier to condemn than to honestly ask myself how my hidden attitude and fear might be preventing me from doing what is right. Though I don’t wave hateful signs, I have been guilty of avoiding and silently passing judgment on those with “alternative lifestyles.” Lord, please forgive me.

If I, as one bearing the name “Christian”, wish to reverse the perception which exists, I must be willing to do as Christ did. To love unconditionally and without strings attached, anyone and everyone regardless of their lifestyle. Anything less is not worthy of the name of Jesus Christ.

Party trick #17

I’ve noticed an unaddressed inefficiency at parties and social gatherings in general for which I have a solution. I do realize that efficiency isn’t top of mind for most people at social gatherings, but hear me out.

The trend is this. I walk into a room full of people, many of whom I haven’t seen in a while. The natural first question is, “How are you?” Or, “How have you been?” There is nothing inherently wrong with that. In the event the person actually wants to know the answer, I proceed to explain what I’ve been up to.

This is fine for about three conversations. Once I get asked that the fourth, fifth, sixth time and beyond, my answers either get short and surly (Fine, thanks. How are you?) or I go into all the details AGAIN, internally wanting to blow up. Extroverts probably don’t understand just how exhausting it us for non-extroverts to be talking constantly. That’s why we listen more.

On to my party trick. It works best if it’s a moderately sized group where most everyone knows each other. Gather everyone together at the table or wherever the central spot is, and explain that we’ll go around the room and take turns giving each other a brief update about what’s been going on in our lives. Then you simply do it. Everyone shares one at a time while the others listen. You only have to tell your story once. Everyone is caught up. Then follow up one-on-one conversations can begin at a more in depth place. And introverts are spared the agony of constantly talking. Although having the spotlight, even briefly, might not go over well with some.

It can be difficult to pull off, and awkward if not everyone knows each other. But in the right environment it works like a charm. I’ve actually used this technique at a gathering of friends before and it worked beautifully. It may seems a little silly perhaps. I happen to think it’s brilliant. Whether or not posting this is ridiculous, only you can be the judge.

A historic white Christmas

I’m sure my thoughts aren’t unique; I simply wanted to make a note of the historic weather we’re having in the Portland/Vancouver area during this time of year when we sing “may all your Christmases be white” but they rarely are. In fact, I pondered aloud to several, with no rebuttals, that I don’t remember EVER having a white Christmas here at home.

Nor have we ever, in my 30 years at least, experienced this much snow so continually without melting. I remarked to a gal I had met who was new to Portland from Florida that it NEVER had snowed for several days in a row without melting away. And that was last Friday – six days ago. It’s STILL snowing and has been ever since then. Truly remarkable.

For all the fun and excitement of white everywhere, school closures, unexpected days off from work and the like, the forecast was quite plain that it would transition to rain and above freezing temperatures on Christmas Eve, making the white stuff a memory just in time for the day it should be present.

Oh the delightful errors of meteorology.

Rain mixed with snow prevailed on Christmas Eve and then an absence of precipitation for awhile.

When I awoke this morning, I found not only a fresh dusting but that it was snowing heavily, as it did throughout most of the morning and into the early afternoon. A white Christmas at last!!!

Here are some pictures from the scene.

My parents' house. Site of the festivities.

My Pathfinder, parked overnight, had a good dusting on it Christmas morning

You know you’re a gamer if …

I doubt I’m the only one who finds the male fascination with video games odd and a little disturbing. When I was a child, video games were an innocent way to spend a few hours in the afternoon when it was raining outside. My brother and I had many good times playing the original Nintendo, and before that, the Texas Instruments video game …thing. I don’t remember exactly what it was called. But when the rain cleared, the games went back to gathering dust. They found their ultimate home in the dust collectors bin once Garth and I were out of elementary school.

Fast forward a few decades to the 21st Century and now many guys who are well beyond puberty spend hours staring at the screen, game controller (joystick?) in hand, as hours go by. What’s wrong with this picture? Just for kicks, in case you need clarification, I’ve put together a list of ways that you know you’re a gamer if …

1. You spend more than two hours per day gaming, don’t have a girlfriend, and haven’t yet figured out the cause/effect relationship between the two.

2. If you do have a girlfriend, you manage to block out the sound of her voice when she complains about your excessive gaming. (Note: this would make you not only a gamer, but also a loser.)
3. Sleep and showering are secondary and tertiary to “beating your last score.” (See also #1)
4. You have posters of girls on your walls, but you don’t actually know any girls personally.
5. You place potato chips on your gut while you play, or you can reach into the bag without taking your eyes off the game.

6. When someone talks about a fantasy, you assume they are taking about football.
7. You’re over 25 and you still live with your parents.
8. Last time you checked, you had a Super Mario Bros. ringtone on your cellphone. But it’s hard for you to remember because its been weeks since someone called you.
9. You’ve never met any of your closest friends in person.
   And finally, you know you’re a gamer if …
10. You took personal offense at more than one item in this list.

John 9:1-34: A disciple confronts skeptics

I had to smile as I read this passage. It’s about a man born blind, whom Jesus heals on the Sabbath. Uproar ensues as the Pharisees get all cranky about Jesus doing a miracle on the Sabbath. What I find amusing is how the man responds to the Pharisees.

After they ask him a second time how Jesus healed him (and they drag his parents into it), he says, “I told you already and you did not listen; why do you want to hear it again? You do not want to become His disciples too, do you?”(Sarcasm?)

I imagine that those witnessing this exchange probably looked at the ground to hide their chuckling at a commoner just having dissed on the religious elite. Not used to being talked back to, they brought more ridicule upon themselves by insisting that the man agree with them that Jesus was a sinner and that He was not legit because they didn’t know whether He was from God. Said the man in reply, “Well here is an amazing thing, that you do not know where He is from, yet He opened my eyes. …If this man were not from God, He could do nothing.”

Jesus had just saved the man from a life of blindness and the Pharisees were blinded to who Jesus was. The man, on the other hand, counted himself a disciple and could not help but proclaim what he had witnessed. Even in the face of controversy. He wasn’t intimidated by the religious elite who were trying to discredit Jesus. He merely stated the obvious truth. “Whether He is a sinner, I do not know; one thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” (v. 25)

This is a notable example for all followers of Christ to observe. If God has done something great in your life, it is immediately obvious to not only you, but those around you. Let not the arrogance and jealousy of Christ’s detractors steal your joy. Simply proclaim what He has done, and all who can’t believe it will have no logical rebuttal. Note the Pharisees’ mature response to the man’s schooling them: “They answered him, ‘You were born entirely in sin, and you are teaching us?’ So they threw him out.”

The experts in the law had no intelligent response to Jesus’ miracle. If you’re on the side of the miracle worker, be emboldened.

A mountaintop experience: my journey up Mount St. Helens

This past Friday (October 10) was the day I had been planning for several weeks to climb Mt. St. Helens with some friends. Having done the climb in 2001, and remembering how grueling it was, I was a little nervous about doing it again, especially in view of the light use of my hiking boots over the summer.

To make matters more complicated, I came down with a cold on Wednesday. By Thursday I was feeling fairly close to miserable, and considering pulling out of the hike. However, I just couldn’t bring myself to cancel. The weather was expected to be beautiful and I already had the time off work. So to the mountain was my decision.

Armed with tissue and cough drops, as well as the standard water, Gatorade and plenty of snacks, I hit the road at 7 a.m. with my friends Jamie, Larry, and Carmen. Though I was determined to climb, I questioned the wisdom of it, as did a few others.

The chatter in the car came to a halt as we entered Mt. St. Helens National Volcanic Monument and were greeted in full view by the sight of the majestic 8363′ snow covered peak glistening in the morning sun. We were all taken aback by its beauty and a little nervous about the fact that we were going to begin our ascent in mere minutes. Larry broke the silence by saying appropriately, “I kinda got butterflies in my stomach looking at it.” We all chuckled because we could identify.

9:07 a.m.

Loaded up with our packs, jackets and hats (it was clear and sunny, but a little chilly considering the starting point is at almost 3800 feet), we hit the trail head. The first two miles of gentle switchbacks through the trees were a pleasant warmup. I was pulling up the rear of our group of four, being both the only ill climber and the one who had spent the least amount of time at the gym in preparation. I was feeling somewhat nervous about the climb, yet optimistic and determined. My sore throat and runny nose seemed a bit of a damper, but I still had a slight spring in my step.

After arriving at the timberline two miles in, the route takes a steep upward turn through some loose lava rock up to the beginning of Monitor Ridge, where the bulk of the climb takes place. The trail continues sharply upward through loose rock for about a mile. It was at this point that I began to feel a little fatigued with my cold working against me. Two things that constantly helped were the kindness and patience of my friends, who would stop every so often and wait for me to catch up, as well as the stunning view. Already a mile above the tree line, lush forests for miles was the background down below, with the view above snow covered glaciers on either side of the ridge, and jagged snowy boulders filling the expanse of the mountain face.

The next section of the climb involved a ridge of boulders approximately a mile long that require deft scrambling from one to the next amid sharp elevation gain. It’s a fun adventure going up, but very taxing as it requires use of your arms and legs to navigate and maintain balance. By this time my leg muscles were stinging and I was fairly tired and noting the extra effort required by my lungs at that elevation (about 7000′), coupled with my sore throat. Yet my increasing pain was balanced by the scenic reward of being above the clouds and seeing even more of the forest carpet below. Frequent water and snack breaks with the gang were necessary to keep energy levels maintained.  One step at a time toward the summit.

Once over the boulder section, the final approximately 3/4 mile consists of an steep ash slope between the glaciers, gaining about 1300 feet to the summit. At that elevation, and with my energy seemingly almost gone, I began to entertain the thought of throwing in the towel. Catching up with my friends, I collapsed and sprawled out on the slope, too tired to even sit up. I could see the summit, but it was so far away and so high up.

Larry and Jamie started climbing again while I finished blowing my nose, hydrating, and fighting crushing self-pity and fatigue. With a sigh of resolution, I put on my pack and began taking one tiny step at a time. The cold wind gushed across the face of the mountain, making my fingers and legs cold and adding to my misery. Larry and Jamie were already tiny dots at least 200 yards above me (they seemed tiny anyway, with so much elevation between us). I looked at the distance between them and me, and the distance further still to the summit. It was too much for my exhausted body to take. Tears stung my eyes as I concluded that I just couldn’t do it. I stood still, sobbing, not wanting to quit but feeling no will to continue. I waited for the wind to die down to shout up the mountain to my friends that I was quitting. The words were difficult to utter. “Larry!! I….” Wind gust. “Larry! I can’t do it!!! I’m done! I’ll meet you guys at the….(wind gust).”

Larry, in response, threw his hands up in the air as if to say, “Are you coming or what?” My inner struggle became more profound as I wrestled with my decision. “Can you make it to here?” shouted Larry. “Uh…I’m not sure, but I don’t want to” I said with a tearful whimper that I regretted upon hearing it come out of my mouth. “I’ll try.” And with that nudge of a challenge, I decided the least I could do was keep trying. Step after agonizing step I made my way, if only to keep Larry from having to wait for me any longer.

When I caught up, I still wasn’t convinced about going the last 1000 feet, which in the summer time is very difficult, as the steep sandy slope often has you sliding back a foot for every two feet forward. This day, however it was covered in snow. Jamie was halfway up and Carmen was at the top waiting for us. “We’re going to drop our packs here to make it easier for the last part,” said Larry, slyly making his assertion plural, meaning I was going. Not quite convinced, I weighed my physical and emotional exhaustion against the reality of having to tell people that I made it within 1000 feet of the summit and quit. “Ok, I’ll do it,” I said weakly.

Without the weight of my backpack and with the added benefit of snow to dig my toes into, I began climbing with more resolve than I’d felt since the first hour. Larry started out pushing me up the slope, which I appreciated, but was a little embarrassed about. After a few moments I dismissed his kind service and we began trudging up side by side. Jamie and Carmen were cheering us on from the top. I don’t know how long it took. The strained breath and concentrated effort of moving one foot then the other were all consuming.

The moment I set foot on the summit was surreal. Carmen gave me a high five, I peered over the edge of the crater for a second, then collapsed in the snow. As I sat there and caught my breath, I once again started sobbing. This time with sheer relief and victory. After collecting myself I turned again to gaze into the gaping crater created by the historical eruption 28 years ago. Its beauty was breathtaking.

Seeing the majesty of the mountaintop view and feeling the thrill of standing on the summit for that moment erased the pain and agony it took to get me there. I was giddy and in awe of God’s majestic creation and indescribable creativity in crafting such a scene. And when the fog cleared, uncovering the entirety of the crater and the clear blue lake beyond, the girls and I squealed with delight. Larry admired in silence, the appropriate man response.

3:15 p.m.

It had taken us six hours to get to the summit, and now it was time to start the descent. The smooth sandy final section that had nearly sucked my will was the easiest part, as I could glide down through the snow and sand. The mountaintop experience was still keeping my spirits afloat as we reached the boulder section. The part that was “fun” on the way up, though taxing, became nightmarish. Having to climb down and navigate between boulders at a steep angle with muscles and joints that had already given too much for the day was a laborious endeavor, slow and painful. My negative attitude was compounded by still persistent cold symptoms and overall exhaustion.

Yet, my self-pity was rightfully subdued when I looked up from the trail to see the beautiful expanse of snow-covered mountain to my right and left and miles upon miles of forest, thousands of feet below. Though my body was wracked with pain, my eyes were full of the indescribably beautiful scenery and my heart was full of praise for my Creator King. The gracious and kind God who gave His kids a majestic creation to enjoy, through which to also show us a hint of His beauty. Not only that, but instilled in us the drive and desire to climb such heights to meet Him and take in His handiwork from a divine vantage point seen by only a select few. With those thoughts in mind I trudged on, letting my gratefulness for the experience lead the way.

We got back down to the car at about 6:45 p.m., making the total climb time a shade under 10 hours. At the end of the day I was pleased with my decision to climb in spite of being sick, thankful to my friends who were patient with me and encouraging all throughout the day, and thrilled to have made it to the top.

I won’t be doing that hike again anytime soon though.

One tiny step, or it is a giant leap?

I’ve been intending to start a blog for about a year now. It’s just one of those things that for some reason I never could get myself to do. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was some invisible, undefined expectation that if I started a blog I had to immediately fill it with deep, insightful posts and a beautiful design. But ultimately, those were unreasonable expectations.

What it finally came down to, after all these months, was taking four minutes to fill out a form on WordPress to get it set up. Though a small move, it was a step through the door, and into the journey of blogging. The deep, insightful posts will come, as will the shallow, ridiculous ones, but for now at least I have it set up!