Lessons I've learned from my constant companions; my boys. One thing I've learned is never expect what you set out for when going on an adventure. You must be open to changes and patient with their constant loss of focus.
Today my two boys and I traveled up to the Ochoco Mountains to go snowshoeing and sledding. I asked them to dedicate one hour to snowshoeing and then we would spend the rest of the time sledding. Snowshoeing brings me great joy. I love to walk through the woods or across an open meadow, gaze at the tracks laid by countless animals, catch snowflakes on my gloves and examine each shape, stand in awe of the majesty of the tall, tall trees. But my children have a way of making all that beauty become overlooked. I instead spend my time impatiently dealing with their constant complaining and fighting or explaining to them why they can't just go off trail and be out of my sight. Today after several minutes of this I decided to talk to them calmly and rationally about what they were doing.
We stopped at the top of a hill in a meadow with sparse trees of pine, fir and juniper. The snow was coming down and it made for an amazing sight. I turned to them both and asked them, "if you were doing something that brought you joy and I stood by you the whole time complaining and then even found ways to fight with those around you how would that make you feel?" They both answered, "Pretty bad." I explained that was exactly what they were doing to me. I asked them for twenty more minutes up the mountain and then we would turn around. They agreed and for the rest of the time we talked about what was beautiful about being out here. Nikolai shared his favorite thing to see in the snow was the trees heavy with the weight bowing down to the ground. He also talked of how he loves to find forts underneath the trees. I was instantly taken back to my childhood where treeforts were my playground. I had a fort beside our house in the cedars, I can still smell it. The ground was lined with needles and the trees sagged to the ground. A small opening allowed my sister and I to go in and shelter ourselves from the weather, which was usually rain growing up as I did in the Willamette Valley. We made up so many games under those trees and that was just one of several treeforts we had. Our Dad had built us our own tree fort high in the fir trees of the backyard. We would climb up and jump to the ground. It is a wonder we didn't break anything. When our dog attacked a rabbit den we saved the babies and brought our incubator to the tree fort to attempt to save them. Eventually our parents found out and we brought the one remaining bunny inside. We named him flops alot and he lived for a little while under our care. We had another treefort in the front yard. This one was high up several branches. I would take all of my girlfriends up there and we would carve our names in the tree. When I was an emotional pre-teen I often escaped to that tree to reconnect with myself and reality. That tree gave me peace.
Trees are good for my soul. I see such strength, beauty and peace in them. As I snowshoed I thought about the trees I was walking past. I studied their trunks, their branches. I often examine trees to find the best climbers and encourage my boys to conquer them. If I were an artist I would paint trees. I have pressed their leaves into my heavy dictionary at times to save a memory. I continued on down the trail admiring and enjoying.
On our way back Max explained his favorite thing about the journey was the zig-zags in the trail. How fitting that he would appreciate the journey not being straight. Much like our lives, the journey takes us on a constant climb, zigging and zagging through unknown territory. If we look up, we find our strength and can continue on. We must look down as well in order not to stumble but we find our strength in the high places. It is important to look up each day, to be thankful and to meditate on those things that give us strength, encouragement and hope.
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