Movie and Mountain Moments

For whatever reason, I’ve begun to think a lot about resolve lately.

I’m picturing those movie moments: when Maverick threw Goose’s dog tags out to sea in Top Gun, when Rose let go of Jack while floating on the driftwood and called for the lifeboat to “come back” in Titanic, when Carl lightened the load so his house could float over the mountain range in the animated film Up. These moments represented a turning point of some sort when loss turned into strength and motivation.

Of course Hollywood has to make all of this happen at one point in the movie. In real life, I think it happens as a thousand points that stack up.

I’m embarrassed by some things I haven’t finished or done (still working on a headstone; still working on thank you notes) and grateful for (and surprised by) some things I have done (kept indoor plants from the funeral days looking good; commandeered Dane’s iPod Nano, which was a sacred lifeboat in chemo days; now using the full bed, especially since Pud has joined me for the fall season).

There will be a point when I will draw strength from memories and my and Dana’s relationship. I’ve already had the strangest sensations of processing things the way Dana would: asking the pointed questions of friends, seeing the bottom line on things quicker than usual (Dane was the queen of cutting to the chase). There really is a process of absorption that occurs, and that’s a nice surprise.

While I’m a long way from the “movie moment,” I guess it’s a good sign that I’m at least thinking about resolve. Of course as I say that, I think that this past Monday, for whatever reason, was a record-setting day of missing Dane. And I guess that’s what this whole journey is about: recovering from loss while navigating the huge hole in your life.

On my recent trip to Montana (Glacier National Park), I set out to make it a trip of resolve…to begin the process of drawing strength from this experience, trying to build channels that help emotions flow from valleys of heartache to vistas of resolve. Mountain hiking seemed to be a good place to do that. But here’s what I learned. You can’t force this. Maybe I was just too distracted by the physical valleys and vistas before my eyes to worry about the valleys and vistas in my heart. If so, that’s fine. Snow-covered peaks and mountain streams have their own restorative power. So I didn’t have that legal pad session I was looking for when bullet points of resolve were flowing as fast as I could write. But I did have this happen.

My last hike of the trip was actually an after-thought. I was on my way out of the park, but noticed the clouds were breaking (it had been raining). I saw a trailhead for a trail I had had my eye on all week, so I pulled off and hiked. About 30 minutes into the trail I noticed something: silence. The other trails that week either had fellow hikers or rustling leaves from the wind. I was now on a desolate, moss-covered, fern-covered, old-growth forest trail. There was absolutely no breeze. All was still. And so I decided to stop and have about a 5-minute silent retreat.

In those few moments I realized something rather monumental: my mind is noisy. It’s busy. It moves from one thing to the next. I long ago diagnosed myself with ADD/ADHD (I became an ADD authority as a youth pastor). The grief process has taken the ADD to nuclear levels. Maybe it’s the mind’s default defense mechanism, which can be good. But in those moments of silence I heard the mental noise that I’ve been tuned into every minute of every day for the past many months. So while the noise might be protective, it’s also been keeping me from hearing, from processing, and probably worst of all, from praying.

And so, I made a commitment—a point of resolve if you will—that I will work to clear my mind of busy, noisy thinking, and try to make room for God to get a word in, at least edgewise.

That micro silent retreat was a nice gift. I’m not throwing dog tags into the sea, but I’m grateful for the slightest point of resolve, even if it’s just clearing the smallest space in a cluttered mind. Thankfully, God works with small things; a mustard seed comes to mind. And one thing I have definitely learned so far: if I’m to get to any point of resolve or strength, it will have to come from whatever God speaks into my heart and mind.

Speaking of being “tuned in,” I’ve been listening a lot lately to country music. Those folks know pain. Dana and I had connected on and with country music in our dating days (Travis Tritt was the gateway), and so I find some comfort in that music. And there are some GREAT songs out right now! Maybe this has contributed to my noisy mind. But as a funny twist, I leave you with the photo below, a picture of the radio station call name for the country station I listened to in Montana.

Thank you for your prayers, thoughts, and support.

Barry
(And the picture at the top was taken moments after my micro silent-retreat hike--Lake MacDonald at the Apgar Village, Glacier National Park.)