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I Am Beautiful....

6/23/2019

Girl’s Camp 2019.

I entered Girl’s Camp with a somewhat skeptical and cynical attitude and exited with joy, gladness and gratitude.     It was a fabulous four days….I ate food I did not have to cook, I participated in activities I did not have to plan, I slept in a tent I did not have to erect, and, best of all, I connected with some of the greatest women in God’s kingdom.

One of the camp’s activities was a Mirror Walk. One at a time the girls walked from one mirror to another along a path that led them to a campfire and a huge portrait of Christ.   At each mirror the young woman was asked to read something aloud as she looked at herself in the mirror. At my mirror the girls read the statement “I am strong and beautiful and worthy of blessings.” After I had the girls read the statement I asked them if they believed it. Then I asked them to tell me something strong about themselves.

Standing on the path, as I waited for the next girl to arrive, I looked in my mirror.   MISTAKE. We’d been camping for several days. My too-short gray hair was very flat, thin, and tired-looking. My eyes, devoid of makeup, appeared rimless and almost disappeared into my face. My skin was chalky, pudgy in places, and very, VERY wrinkled.   Worse of all, my face was long, like a horse. (Horse faces look good on horses but not on people.) I looked in the mirror and saw an ugly old lady.

Yikes.   YIKES! I looked again.   Yep. An ugly, old lady.

I was appalled. Shamed. Embarrassed.   Absolutely mortified. And puzzled.    To that point, at camp, people had been very nice to me.   How could they be so nice to someone so ugly?

It was then that I realized several things:

Being ugly hurts. All my life I have been taught that physical appearances are not of primary importance, that it is our inner beauty that is what really matters. And I thought I believed it. Until I saw myself as ugly. Suddenly physical appearance was very important and being ugly was very painful.
Others were used to me being ugly. It was not a new thing to them. They had seen me this way for days. Maybe even for as long as they’ve known me. I certainly hadn’t gotten a new face. The face in the mirror was definitely mine and, somehow, others had gotten used to it and had been able to love me in spite of it. I had better do the same, both get used to it and to love myself in spite of it.
Lance thinks I am beautiful. I experienced a huge surge of tender feelings for my husband. It is his fault that I thought I was attractive. He tells me I am beautiful all the time and he really believes it. And he led me to believe it. On my lands, my sweet man!!!! Thank you for thinking I am beautiful!!!

The mirror walk continued. I was careful not to look in the mirror as I held it in front of the girls and asked them to read the statement. The last girl to come through was Maggie, a friend of Miles’ whom I’ve admired since she was a wee one in elementary school. “Hello sweet girl,” I said as I gave her a hug. “Will you please look into the mirror and read this aloud.”

Maggie, a seriously lovely young lady in all senses of the word, looked into the mirror and read “ I am strong and beautiful and worthy of blessings.” Then she turned towards me and said, “Will you read it too please?”

Slowly I read the words.

Beautiful.

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A Voice in my Head....

6/16/2019

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Do you ever hear your father’s voice in your head? Still? Me too!!! And I am so, so grateful for that voice. Still!!

Here are some of the things my father said to me, things I still hear today:

“It’s a good thing you are tough.” Whenever we’d complaint to Dad about an ache, pain, or malady, he’d respond cheerfully, “It’s a good thing you are tough.” Empathetic he was not. Expectant he was. The dictionary defines tough as the ability to endure pain or hardship. He expected us to be tough and, under the influence of his expectations, we became tough.

“Go play with a rattlesnake,” Dad told us He also called me “Stinky Poo” and Wright “Wart”. It was tease AND be teased in our home. We’d tease Dad and he’d tease us back. Outsiders listening were appalled but we knew he was really telling us he loved us.

“It’s good to get up in the morning. It’s good to get up in the morning. It’s good to get up in the morning. It’s better than staying in bed.” Dad exuberantly sang this song anytime anyone was in bed past what he considered time to get up. On Sunday mornings he’d get us up at 6 a.m. even though Church did not start until 10 a.m. Today I got up at 4:30 a.m even though Church does not start until 10:30 a.m.

“Turn off the water.” We had a cistern at the Walker place in Bend, OR and water came through the ditch to fill it only once a month. If we drained the cistern before the month was up, it was tough luck. (See first bullet.) Once (it only took once), he came into the bathroom and turned off the shower while I was showering. To this day the sight of water being unnecessarily run down the drain drives me crazy.

“Show her who is boss!” Dad instructed me when my horse misbehaved. He was telling me to keep working with the mare until we accomplished the task assigned us and he was teaching me that excuses are not acceptable. Circumstances, be they person, place or thing, are not to be blamed for unsatisfactory outcomes. And satisfactory outcomes are achievable with effort and endurance. I learned that I am both responsible and capable.

“Who knows better, you or me?” Dad asked us. No matter how we responded, his answer was “Then quit arguing.” The sheer ridiculousness of the verbal exchange silenced me as a child. Now it silences my children.

“So?” Dad would respond when I used other’s opinions or actions to justify my decisions. “So what?” His unmistakable message was that I was to base my decisions on my values. Period.

“MYOB,” Dad frequently said in response to our questions when he was bishop (religious leader) of our ward (congregation). MYOB stands for “Mind your own business” and it meant that he would not answer our questions because to do so would violate a sacred trust. I, too, can keep a secret.

“Teresa worked so hard today,” Dad would tell Mom at the dinner table after we’d spent time together on a project. I loved working with Dad because I loved hearing him tell Mom what a good worker I was. Pleased with his praise, I learned to love working. I also learned that working with and praising children is an effective way to teach a good work ethic. I still love working. And I still love praise.

I suspect Dad loves praise too so I will take this opportunity to shout (or at least write and publish) his praises.

Thank you Dad for the lessons you taught. Thanks for being the kind of dad who loves us and always leads us towards God. Growing up I knew that whatever God asked us to do would be done in our home. And I had no problem accepting that I had a Father in Heaven who loves and treasures me because I grew up with a Father on Earth who modeled that.

I love you Dad!!

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Southern Utah, 2019

6/9/2019

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As always (ALWAYS!!) I started the trip wondering why I do these things….. Stress, time away from home and family, potential for problems, more stress,....WHY?!?!?!!! And, as always (ALWAYS!!!), I end the trip knowing why… BECAUSE THE TRIPS ARE ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!!!! This trip followed the pattern. It was absolutely, ABSOLUTELY incredible. What a huge, huge blessings it is to be able to share these experiences with these amazing people. Seriously, seriously a huge, HUGE blessing!

This year’s schedule:

Wednesday: Hickman Bridge (Capitol Reef National Park), Escalante Petrified Wood State Park

Thursday: The Box Canyon
Friday: Peekaboo and Spooky Slot Canyons, Lower Calf Creek Falls
Saturday: Queen’s Landing and Navajo Loop Trails (Bryce Canyon National Park) then home

There were extra seats in several of the cars so I suggested to Talyn that, for the first time ever, we ride with kids and parents in the car caravan, rather than drive a separate car.   As Lance and I drove to OPA Wednesday morning, I said “I think I made a huge mistake. I should not have told Talyn to leave her car at home.”

When Talyn arrived at the school she said “On a last minute whim I decided to drive my car. Do you want to come with me?” Yes, yes, YES!!!!! It was the first of many tender mercies.    Time and again, through the entire trip, the wisdom of Talyn’s decision was confirmed. Not only did we totally enjoy each other’s company, we enjoyed the break from the kids, we used the car to run errands (buy medical tape, shop for banana boat components, and explore alternate trail options), and we used it to perform administration duties. In fact, we dubbed her Subaru “The Office”, a moniker I am confident will stick. We vowed we will never consider leaving The Office at home again. Talyn’s decision to bring her car was truly inspired.

This was my first real hiking adventure since the new knees and they performed admirably.   Downhill, uphill, no hill...it was all good. ALL GOOD! No pain. Not going up, not going down.    I was able to make the steep descent down the Sunset trail at Bryce Canyon without assistance, something that would have been impossible this time last year. I also kept up with the fastest kids on the hikes, something I have not been able to do for years.

Our OPA kids in the group were so, SO good. [“Perfect” is how I described them to the camp host.]   I told them the in-tent curfew was 10:00 p.m. They were hanging out, enjoying each other’s company, singing loudly, until 9:58. At 10:00 the camp was quiet. NICE!

Our plan for Thursday was to hike The Box but, given the wet winter and prolonged spring precipitation, we thought we’d better ask the Rangers if The Box, with its 40+ stream crossings, were safe.   We were told it was not. In fact, they recently helicoptered 2 women out of that canyon. The Escalante River Trail was our next choice. Rangers said was high but passable, especially if one carried 15 foot of rope. [Rope could be strung across the river so as to give waders a support line to cling to.] Sensing adventure and feeling the danger lie within acceptable levels, we chose to follow the Escalante.

It was a good choice.   We never used the ropes and we did have adventures.    They said the river might be waist deep in places. There were places it was waist deep but one had to seek them to find them.   The greatest danger in wading the river came from the pebbles that continuously lodged in my Chacos. In most places it was ankle to mid-calf deep, milk chocolate brown, and moderately cool.

On the Escalante River we initiated a new practice that, like bringing The Office, will probably become standard operating procedure    Forest Service regulations limit group size to 12 people. We had almost three times that number (26 kids, 11 adults) so we split up. We let the kids self-sort into three groups: MBIFs (must be in front), Happy Mediums, and the Leisure Group. Self sorting into three groups was an inspired decision; it let the kids choose their experience and be masters of their fate. Those who wanted to forge ahead could do so without feeling held back. Those who wanted at amble, stop at still pools, smell pretty flowers, and sing their way downstream could do so without feeling rushed.

At the Ranger Station we learned that the road into Peekaboo and Spooky was closed for maintenance. Hikers desiring to traverse those two slot canyons would have to park on Hole in the Rock Road and hoof it to the trailhead, which would 4 miles along a hot, dusty, barren road to our hike.   Wanting to mitigate the effect of a southern UT sun on my students I planned a 4;30 a.m. wake up call (song...screech…) hoping to avoid the heat of the day. [The camp was silent at 9:45 that night. “They were freaked out by the idea of 4:30,” Brent explained. “Most of them have never seen that time of day.”]

We were on the road a little after 5:30 a.m. and at the trailhead by 6:45 a.m.   To our great surprise the road to the trailhead was not closed so the extra 4 miles trek along a barren, dusty road became a non-issue.   And, at that time of the morning, there was only one other car in the parking lot. When we returned the parking lot was full of cars, as was the side of the road for a quarter mile.   By coming early we escaped the heat of the day, avoided the crowds, and had time to explore a new site (Devil’s Garden, A++). Win, win, win!

Our hike to Calf Creek Falls was hot. The water was not. When we arrived at Calf Creek Falls there was a significant cold breeze blowing off the waterfall, the entire bowl-shaped area was shaded and the water was a few degrees shy of frigid.   I decided, immediately and unequivocally, that I was NOT going to jump in the water. Not. Not. NOT. I had nothing to prove. I was 54. I was comfortable in my own skin and in my warm, dry clothes. I would NOT join the group in the water. No.

Brent Hughes approached. “Who is going to represent the adults in the water?” he asked.

“Not me,” I said firmly. NOT ME. No. No. No.

I don’t even know what Talyn said.   I don’t even know. All I know is that she said something that pushed a button inside me that made me get into the water. (Is Talyn related to Dan Parkinson????)    I may or may not have sworn as I took off my shoes and headed toward the beach. On my way I invited Cindi to join me, as she had invited me into the water several times previously.    The cry went out “Hislop’s going in….” and soon there was a long line of students poised waiting to run and jump into the water with me. “One, two, THREE!” Brent yelled at which point we all took off and plugged into the pool. BRRRRR!

Darling Eddi.   She was fully clothed but decided to join us.   When she approached the line up, I suggested she removed her glasses. As she ran back to the rocks to deposit her glasses I held the group, wanting her to be a part of it.   Apparently she felt pressure to hurry because, instead of setting her glasses down with her towel and backpack, she flung them.   I learned what she had done later when I overheard her dad, Steve, say “Where did you put them?” in reference to her glasses. “I threw them this way,” she responded. “You threw them?” he queried. “One does not throw glasses,” he started to say and then caught himself. Excellent dad that he is, rather than lecture, he joined her in the hunt.   A hunt that, happily, turned out successful.

One of the greatest aspects of these trips, if not the greatest, is Talyn.   She continually amazes me. In this world where self indulgence reigns, she is very values driven.   Not only is she very values driven, she constantly examines her life in an effort to improve herself and to make sure that she is true to the values she has chosen.   She also so amazing with the kids, somehow finding just the right balance between being friendly and firm, challenging and caring. She hates Lagoon, brings me blueberries, loses keys (I do too!) and is so, SO FUN!!!

Talyn mentioned several times how lucky we are.   We were lucky with the weather, lucky to find the Escalante River hike, lucky that the road to Peekaboo/Spooky was open, luck to decide to bring The Office, etc…. She extended her observation to include all of our trips… We are always lucky, lucky to that we have no major injuries, lucky to find alternative options when plans fall through, lucky to have great kids and parents, etc…. And, she observed further, when we encounter unfavorable events or circumstances (such as flash flood warnings in Havasupai), we are lucky in that it always works out.   It always works out.

For once I am going to disagree with Talyn.   Or, better, I want to clarify. It is not mere luck that makes things always work out for us.   It is God. The number of “lucky” incidents we have had, the fact that things do always work out for us, defies the randomness of luck.    I firmly believe our luck is really the tender mercies of a gracious God who blesses our effort. We are good people doing good things for and with good people.   He recognizes that and He helps us out.

Thank you God!   Looking forward to working with You next fall in the Redwoods.

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I Am Beautiful....

A Voice in my Head....

Southern Utah, 2019

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