I am currently training for one of our upcoming Wacky events – hiking the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim in one day.  And I hate it.  It is hard.  Really hard.  I was talking to my daughter last month – well, not talking actually, but whining.  In her classic ability to be completely non-empathetic, she interrupted me to say, “Whatever, Mom, no one is holding a gun to your head to do it.” Ok.  Fine.  Real nice.  Time to rethink my “why” and change my attitude.

So, I started with my go-to thinking process – gratitude.  Easy!  One, I love being part of this Wacky team of 30 participants; together we will raise $50,000 based upon reaching our individual fundraising goals.  Two, it isn’t a marathon. Hallelujah, no running involved!  And three, it is something Lee and I are doing together, and that is paramount to me, extremely important in so many ways.  So, why am I being such a cotton-headed ninnymuggins?

During last Saturday’s 5 hour hike, I let the beauty of the Red Rocks National Park soothe my mind and allowed myself to ponder where my frustration was coming from.  And then I remembered an experience I had just after Nick died.  I went back and found my old journals and found the entry that tells the following story:

“July, 2011 (six weeks after Nick died)

Lee and I decided to attend the Transformational Leadership Council five-day gathering in Tuscon, Arizona.  We debated about going, maybe going somewhere by ourselves but the resort we were going to was all-inclusive with loads of outdoor activities and spa treatments.  We figured we could be invisible if we wanted.  It turned out to be an amazing and healing five days.

……Lee signed up for the Quantum Leap exercise while I slept in.  When he came back, he could barely talk about it, he was so emotional.  He said it was a life-changing experience, but didn’t want to say too much in case I wanted to go later.  But he did share that he felt Nick with him.  Then I got a text from Kelsey, who was at church camp.  She also shared with me that she, too, had an experience with Nick that affected her deeply.  So now I’m thinking, ‘I want a Nick experience, too!’  So I signed up for the Quantum Leap.

I was the only one in my group so it was just me and the guide.  Simultaneously, Lee was with another group doing the Ladder exercise about a hundred yards away – far enough away that I could barely see them wave to me.  I got set up in a harness and given advice on how to approach the 40′ telephone pole…’take your time, breathe, enjoy the view, stand on the platform (2’x3′) and then jump off.  And don’t try to climb back down, it’s too dangerous and will force me to pull you off with the rope attached to your harness.’  That’s just great.  No problem.

Climbing the pole was easy; standing on the pole, not so much.  I was on my tippy toes and kneeling for a long, long time trying to decide which direction would be easier to stand up without tipping over.  The longer it took me, the more mad I got, wondering why I let myself get into this situation.  I was finally able to stand up as the pole swayed and the platform wobbled.  Now I was really pissed off.  I didn’t like the view, I was breathing just fine, nothing spiritual was going on.  How was it I was in another journey that I just have to GO through to GET through – exactly like what I had to do with Nick’s cancer.  I was furious, completely annoyed as Lee and his entourage continued waving to me from the distance.

I asked my guide if we were pressed for time.  ‘Nope.’  I stood there forever, seriously, getting a tan.  Finally my guide said, ‘Think of something you want to jump away from or jump into.’  I’m thinking, ‘Oh, I’ve got plenty of jump incentives.  I’m going to jump down and smack the crap out of you and then Lee for suggesting this…’ and then it happened.  I could feel Nick right next to me and he said, ‘Oh, good one, Mom!  What are you doing up here?  C’mon, I’ll jump with you.  Of course, God caught me and you’ve got to rely on a staff member with a rope to catch you.’  It wasn’t a warm and fuzzy feeling but a completely typical and normal, smart-ass kind of tone.  I could feel him grinning, having a blast and teasing me.  Classic Nick.  I jumped.  Lee and his group cheered.

I got the harness undone and sat down to debrief with my guide.  I didn’t share with him my experience because I didn’t want to cry.  I was still extremely angry and I will never do it again.  But I did realize that I am still strong when in difficult situations.  I thought Nick’s death had broken my spirit, but this exercise gave Nick the opportunity to remind me he is still with me and that I’m still strong.  No doubt, God was with us both, too.”

Obviously, Nick’s death was/is the hardest experience I’ve ever faced, and I did so without hesitation. An experience I attacked with every fiber of my being to save my son, as would any mother to save their child. And I’d do it again, and again and again.   So, it mystified me why I would choose to do something hard when I’ve already traveled one of the most difficult roads imaginable.

Two days ago, Lee and I received news that a very dear and personal friend of ours has just been diagnosed with cancer.  She has been a HUGE supporter of Wacky for years, both with her sweat and tears as well as her checkbook.  She chose to do something hard to support Wacky over and over again.

I get it.

Now I’m choosing to do something hard for her.  And I’m bringing God and Nick along with me.  And Lee, and Kelsey, and Dave, and…

Please consider sponsoring one of our team members on this hike by visiting this link.  There will be 30 of us Wacky Warriors on this grueling 21-mile hike in the Grand Canyon and we will keep doing hard things to help find a cure!

PS: Maybe I can talk Lee into sharing his Quantum Leap experience…

PSS: I’ll probably still whine a little…but not to my daughter.