Shalom on the Trail

I wasn’t super enthused.  I was worried about my Renaud’s syndrome - digits that go numb with the slightest cold..  Although the forecast was for a sunny 60 degrees, it was in the upper 30’s when we took off. Hiking in February - even an unseasonably warm February - was somewhat dubious as far as I was concerned.  However, I gladly went with my Imzadi.

Tim finds trails to hike by the Holy Spirit.  He has a good knowledge of the trails around Hood River. Sometimes he starts with an idea of where he wants to go and lets the Spirit worry about the details.  When it comes to recreating, we don’t like to plan very much.

Dangling over snow melt

My first Spirit surprise was the left turn onto Frankton Road which meant Mt Hood. I had been assuming the Gorge. “By the way, we’re going this way. I don’t know where yet.  Several possibilities - height or waterfall.  Do you have a preference?” Ask the asthmatic whether going up a mountain or going sort of uphill to a waterfall is preferable, and you’ll more than likely get waterfall.  “Whatever. Either is fine with me.” We were Spirit hiking, weren't we?

Up through Odell and Parkdale we cruised, past leafless orchards being readied for the growing season.  Mountains of fruit crates were piled at Duckwall’s and Diamond.  And views of the mountain.  Oh. My. Goodness.  Route 35 offers some breathtaking views of Mt. Hood, especially with the morning sun glinting off the snowcap. 

We parked at the Pollallie trailhead.  I faced the forest until Tim pointed out that the trail was actually across the road and started vertically.  "This is the worst of it."  The end game?  Tamanawas Falls.   Okay, I can do vertical - for a while.  And if the Spirit picked this trail with Tim, I had to trust that I could do it.  I was delighted to realize that my months at the gym paid off. Stronger legs carried me upward as my lungs worked to catch up.

Tim photographing ice cycles and rushing water

Despite my reservations, the hike was soul refreshing, reminding me our summer hikes on the coast and in the Gorge.  The path was at times spongy with thawing earth and a carpet of pine needles beneath our shoes, at times hard with rocks or ice.  We climbed over fallen trees, hugged the rock face where the path dropped off precipitously, and climbed upward, over and around rocks large and small.  All the while, the sound of the surging Hood River serenaded us.  

Tamanawas Falls

Rushing water has always been therapeutic for me.  When we lived in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, the churning waters of the Mississippi listened to my musings and counseled me in times of need.  The water served as a vessel,  carrying my junk far down stream while leaving me washed, refreshed, clean.  

About two thirds of the way towards the waterfall, Tim and his camera busied themselves capturing images ice cycles and thundering water.  Slightly upstream I found a rock on which to sit and dangled my legs over the snow melt below.  Closing my eyes, I could feel the roar of the flow vibrating within me.  Shalom.  Oh how I've needed shalom.  When our lives are over-busy, stress-filled, and frantic, we especially need shalom although it seems even harder to find. Ahh.

The falls themselves were, of course, spectacular when we reached them.  Wide and powerful,  the falls sent up sheets of freezing water for the rocks and trees to catch.  Enveloped in thick ice, the rising temperatures caused small clumps of ice to break free and cascade down the wall periodically.

After a bit (the spray was too cold to linger) we made our way back to the trail head.  The Hood River accompanied us the whole while, as a beloved following and protecting us with Divine care.  Shalom.

Where Am I From?

“Where are you from?”  It seems to be the question of the hour these days.  I still think of myself as newly transplanted to the Northwest with four months of residency in Oregon.  We are making friends - I mean actually having social engagements and getting to know people.  In these new relationships, the question pops up , “Where are you from?”  The new twist on all of this is that I am beginning a new position in a new place with new faces asking “Where are you from?” 

 “Where are you from?”  Not a hard question one would think, but I find that I am of an age where the answer is more nuanced. Extended perhaps. “We moved from West Virginia,” is my short answer.  Or depending on my mood I might say “I was raised outside of Chicago” which oddly brings out my Chicago vowel sounds.

“Where are you from?”  I don’t know if people are polite or just unsatisfied with those two answers, but they usually volley another question to clarify my geographic history. In that case, I go for the briefest linear answer I can.  “I was raised in Chicago. After undergrad in central Illinois we lived in Cape Girardeau, Missouri for a few years then St. Louis for 11, upstate New York for 10 and West Virginia for 7.  (Go ahead. Do the math. I know I’m middle aged.)  Now I get to add Oregon.  

Mosier Creek Flats

After our “extensive” residency in Portland, Oregon, we find ourselves preparing to move to Mosier, Oregon.  As a new Clinical Chaplain at Providence Hood River Memorial Hospital, I need to be within 20 minutes of the hospital when I’m on call.  Sixty miles isn’t exactly 20 minutes even with my driving.  This move is challenging some of our assumptions, our narrative, and is even pushing us past our “change” limit. Our luring God has my head spinning.

As I have meditated on and prayed about our Change Roller Coaster, I have thought of an upside. When the people I meet in Hood River and Mosier ask, “Where are you from?” I have the option of very simple, short answer.  I can opt to skip my tedious geographic history and just say, “Portland.”   I can answer Portland because this is the place I fell in love with immediately - where I felt at home instantly.   I realize Jessica being here is a very important part of it, but I love Portland. Besides my birthplace, this is the only place where I immediately felt at home.  I love it here, and I believe the gift that God is giving us is that we will love it in Hood River and Mosier.  

Jessica is psyched because we can be the destination place for her and Frances as they enjoy the Gorge.  Tim is pleased with our modern apartment - an apartment like he has always wanted to live in.  I am beyond the moon because I have a fabulous job doing ministry in a breathtakingly beautiful place.  

And Portland is just down the road.  You know, that’s where I’m from.  Portland, Oregon.