RV There Yet? (33 page)

A slight breeze wafts through the window screens and gives our home on wheels a fresh mountain scent. The broken air conditioner hasn't bothered me, though I've had to rethink that after experiencing my first hot flash. By the way, I haven't told the girls yet, nor do I plan to at this point. Maybe I can sneak into town with Steve and look for a small fan. Slipping on the shoes I bought for walking trails in the mountains, I'm ready to go. My walking stick is perched in a corner of the bedroom, so I grab it and head out the door.

Since Rocky Mountain National Park is within walking distance, I head that way, glancing once more at the brochure that lists the trails. There is a trail marked “easy to moderate” fairly close to our campsite, and I decide to take it. The altitude hasn't bothered me. I've been drinking lots of water, which is one thing they tell you to do when you're in high altitudes. Once I spot the trail, I head in that direction.

The afternoon sun attempts to poke through occasional gaps in the pine branches that canopy overhead, but the pines stand firm in their grasp to keep the path below dark and otherworldly. The trail looks beaten and worn by the many trailblazers who have gone before me; an earthy path littered with pinecones, sticks, and leaves. The tips of leafy shrubs stir with the mountain air. Aspens quiver, their trunks scarred and chipped away by wildlife. Ponderosa pine and assorted spruce trees reach for the sky while shedding a thin layer of pine needles on the ground below.

A short distance into my trek, I enter a clearing, with ragged mountain peaks looming tall and intimidating before me. Then the trail takes me back into the forest where the echo of my footsteps magnifies my isolation.

Alone. I am alone with my guilt.

A mountain bird mocks me from a nearby tree. Another joins in. “Look at her! She dated a married man. Look at her! Look at her!” I fear they will swoop down and start pecking at me.

Staring at the path inches in front of me, I shake my head. Lately I've been praying, but my prayers can't penetrate my shame and my guilt to get to Him. I look toward the heavens. “What if I fail again?”

“Apart from Me you can do nothing.”

My thoughts wrestle within me as I try desperately to shake myself free. Fallen trees litter the forest. Bruised, battered. Dying.

Dying so that others might live. That's what Jesus did for me.

I was a kid when I made my commitment to Him so long ago. How can I blame Rob for my mistakes? I've been deceiving myself, just as Rob deceived me. Saying I loved God, I would serve Him, live for Him, all the while ignoring Him and going my own way.

Two clusters of columbine poke through the soil bordering the path. Heavy weeds have sneaked from behind and attached around one plant, causing it to wither to shades of brown, while the other plant has one lone bloom forging upward, petals leaning toward a spray of sunlight.

Still it survives.

Stooping down for a closer look at the plant, I'm amazed by the little bloom's persistence. A lost petal lies beside it, revealing the challenges of the forest. Scarred and weary, this small flower refuses to die. In a world of fierce winds, shadows, and predators, this tiny bloom looks to the sun for strength. The sun pushes through the thick branches and bathes the columbine with new life it could not obtain on its own.

My fingers reach for the flower, but I stop short. Wrapped in the sun's embrace, it begs to be left alone. Tears slip down my cheeks. I look to the dying plant. It is me. Choked off, shriveling. I've stepped into the shadows, away from the Son. Oh, how I need Him! I can't survive the journey through this life on my own. The temptations are too great without His help.

The tiny columbine survives, but it too has scars. My fingers lift the fallen petal, then I look back to the flower basking in the sunlight. The fragile bloom is far from perfect, but its strength comes from the sun. Just as mine comes from the Son. I can't erase my shame. What's done is done. But I can start over. From here. In the whisper of the forest, I surrender the shame and my guilt to the One who sees all my flaws and loves me still.

How long I stay beside the flower, I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter. God has heard my prayer, and that's enough.

My aching legs push me up, and I walk forward with a new spring in my step. Another clearing appears, and I ease into the warmth of the sunshine. My gaze rests upon an open meadow washed clean by the sun's rays.

That's me. I'm clean. The butterfly drawing comes to mind. What's that Steve said? A new beginning. This is my new beginning. A short distance to my right, the water of Aspen Creek bubbles and foams as it glides swiftly over rocks and boulders toward its destination.

My gaze scans the horizon, where majestic peaks topped with a glaze of snow stand proud and strong. In the mountain quiet, Psalm 121:1 comes to me: “I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.”

I can't do this alone, but I can do this through You; You give me
the strength. I will not move away again. I will stay by Your side and
trust You, come what may, for I now remember the truth that I had
long ago forgotten.

“I am never alone.”

24

“How was lunch—better still, how was your cycle ride?
” I
tease Lydia and Millie when they step inside the motor home.

Lydia's cheeks are pink, her eyes wide and vibrant. “It was magnificent.”

“Really?”

“I told you that you would like it,” Millie says, her face matching Lydia's flush for flush.

“We went to the nicest shops, Dee. Jewelry, clothing, books, you name it. What a wonderful town,” Lydia says.

“You should see the Stanley Hotel,” Millie says, breathless.

Sounds as though the Biker Boys treated Lydia and Millie well. “The guys took you up there?”

Lydia nods. “That's where we went to lunch.”

“Wow, that's really nice. I've heard about that place.”

“There was a Red Hat group having lunch together there,” Lydia says, eyes twinkling.

“They were having a great time, I can tell you,” Millie adds.

“I told you they're a fun group to be in.” Lydia turns to Millie. “Oh, we forgot to tell DeDe about the hauntings.”

I laugh. “What?”

Lydia swivels to me. “I don't believe it, though.”

“Believe what?” I ask.

“Don't be too quick to discount it, Lydia. Those testimonies sounded pretty convincing,” Millie says before turning to me. “They say the Stanley Hotel is haunted. They even have books about it.” Millie reaches into a package and pulls out a book. We browse through it together.

Lydia looks up at me. “How about you, Dee—did you have a nice walk?”

Settling onto the love seat, I look at her. “It was life-changing.”

“Whoa.” Millie stops her walk toward the bedroom and turns back around to join us. “This I've got to hear.”

I tell them about my walk, my talk with God, everything.

Lydia comes over and hugs me. “That's wonderful news, DeDe. I'm so happy for you.” Tears fill her eyes.

Millie lifts a tentative smile. “Hey, I got your birthday pictures developed.” She pulls them out of the package, and we carefully go through them, laughing and talking about them along the way. Once Millie files them, we decide to walk around the camp and see how everything looks before the district board comes tomorrow.

A fresh wave of pine scent hits me the moment we step outside. I have to admit it's been great to be here again.

“I sure hope the powers that be give this place another chance. So many memories,” Millie says as we glance around the camp. “I can't bear to lose it.”

“We'll just keep praying,” I say, feeling wonderful that I can mean it this time.

Millie and Lydia head toward the kitchen while I walk to the dorm. I'll just push the rags and paint things over to one corner so it doesn't look quite so unkempt when the board comes. When I step inside, Steve is already in the room straightening the area.

“I'm sorry, Steve. I didn't mean for you to do that.”

“It's no big deal. Just straightening a little,” he says with a smile.

Picking up one of the rags, I toss it in with the rest of the pile. “I enjoyed your message this morning, Steve.”

He brushes his hands together and turns to me. “Thanks.”

“Um, in fact, I thought about it a lot on my walk.” I look up at him, wondering if I should tell him what happened.

He waits a minute. “New beginnings?”

Smiling, I nod, thinking of the butterfly.

“I thought so. I could see it on your face when you walked in.”

We talk about what happened to me on the trail, and before I know it, an hour has passed. A deep friendship is forming between us, and I'm enjoying it.

A lot.

After dinner we go back to the motor home to prepare for our evening gathering around the campfire.

“I just don't know what to wear. None of my clothes fit,” Millie complains. “I've put on too much weight out here.”

“Tell me about it,” I say.

“Sorry, girls,” Lydia says, obviously meaning it. “I don't mean to mess up everyone's diets.”

“Oh well, it's a great way to go. Besides, we can go back to our diets and exercise routines when we get home.” I smile at Millie, who doesn't smile back.

“My things are in such disarray,” she says, lifting clothes from her storage compartment. “How can I find anything in this mess?” She dumps everything from her bin and starts refolding.

“Millie, what's wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing is wrong,” she says in clipped tones.

“Oh, yes, there is, Millie,” Lydia joins in. “When you go on an organizational binge, we know something is amiss.”

She stops folding and looks up, tears pooling in her eyes. “I called the library. I think they've replaced me.”

Lydia gasps. “Replaced you? Not possible.”

“Why would you think that, Millie?” I ask.

“They've hired a new lady to help out. We don't need anyone else. What other reason would they have for doing that?”

“Maybe she's there to help with the computer transitioning,” I encourage.

“So they say. I don't buy it. They think I can't handle the computer, that's what. They've hired some young thing to take my place.”

My thoughts flit to one new chocolatier in town, and I feel Millie's pain.

“I'm sure you're mistaken,” Lydia says. “You've been there too long.”

“Precisely,” Millie says.

“No, no. I mean, you're valuable to them.” Lydia dabs on some perfume.

I smile.

“What? Just because I'm not interested in anyone doesn't mean I have to smell like a moose,” Lydia says.

“Agreed.” It's great to see Lydia enjoying herself. This trip has been good for her.

“I don't think they care a twit about me,” Millie says, bringing us back to our discussion.

“Do you think you need to go home so you can check things out at the library?” Lydia asks, looking worried.

Millie's back stiffens. “I will not do that. I don't bail out of a job once I've committed myself to it. I will see the camp through to completion.”

“One thing for sure, now is not the time to think about it. You have enough on your mind just managing this project. You can deal with the library when you get home. For now, enjoy your time at the camp. Tomorrow will take care of itself,” I say, smiling inwardly at my sudden burst of wisdom.

Lydia and Millie must notice it too, because they both stare at me.

“What?”

“Since when did you get so smart?” Millie wants to know.

“Some things we don't learn through books, Millie. We can also learn by experience.”

Twigs snap and pop in the campfire as we enjoy another great time of bonding over hot chocolate and coffee.