Swapping Sticks For Muddy Shoes

"So the last will be first, and the first last.”
Matthew 20:16

ME:        (attempting to add some sort of conversation to the complaints of our "treacherous" mountain
               adventure)  What's another hike memory that y'all have?

SIS:        Colorado.

MOM:     Door County.

ME:         So.... how was it?

MOM:      Death.

     And so it began...

     La Tigra, Honduras.  A fairly simple (in my mind) hike through the mountains to a beautiful waterfall.  Great way to spend the day with the family am I right?  Well, maybe a few things should have been taken into account before plans were finalized:
#1. Overall health (balance, strength, endurance... sanity)
#2. General attitudes (when complaints begin before the first step is even taken __________)
#3. Weather forecast (goodbye sunshine, hello crazy downpour)
#4. Goals (ME: let's DO THIS!, Sis: Where can I get a cute pic? Here!... *5 steps later* Here!, Mom: Are we really doing this?)
#5. Pace...

     Okay, let's focus on the pace for a second.  Comparison time.  Me--a hyperactive 25 year old who spends half of her day playing tag and futbol. Sis--super athletic though she may be the only draw "a hike" has on her are all the photo ops (which apparently are every 5 feet).  And then we have Mom--though fit for her age, a 51 year old woman with troubled knees from her ruined running days (a story Lexie and I were reminded of on multiple occasions during our climb).  Oh, and less I fail to mention, our spanish-speaking taxi driver took up my invitation to accompany us on our walk of doom--rather than sit in his car (his self-named "tren del amor"), he'd rather spend hours listening to gringo grumbling (that, thankfully, he couldn't understand).
     So here's me, jetting along brimming with energy, meanwhile internally annoyed by everyone holding me back.  Then you've got the taxi driver who is using the few English words he knows to encourage my mom ("she is champeon!"), and finally my sis who is still stopping and starting for cute camera angles. So what do I do when everyone is at painfully low pace? Kelsey lightbulb: "Here take this!"  I said to my mom, giving her the opposite end of a broken branch.  Pulling her along, I could feel my own pace naturally slowed, while still experiencing the challenge I was hoping for thanks to the added weight, and my mom's pace picked up dramatically.  Perfect!

     Until...

     "No, Kelsey, that's not helping me.  Stop."

     What!?!  It was such a perfect plan!  It seemed to be working just great to me...

     Wait a second.

     To me.

      Did I ever once really stop and consider my mom and her needs?  Or even my sister for wanting to take in the beauty?  I had spent the majority of our trail time mentally patting myself on the back for zipping my lip rather than join in the slew of negative commentary, and yet all the while I was the one needing a slap in the face.  Or rather, a dart to the heart.  Which I got.
     Champeon of the day?  Not me for keeping my complaints to myself.  Because, let's be honest, though unspoken I had just as many if not more.  Champeon of the day?  Not me for getting through the hike the fastest.  What good does that really do--we're all leaving at the same time anyway.  We had to.  The driver was in the back.

     The driver was in the back.

     That was my lesson for the day.  Alex, our incredible taxista, stayed behind my mom every step of the way.  Offering his hand when needed, and even an encouraging word (or song) when the time called for it.  Alex, slipping and sliding in the mud, ruining what may have been his only pair of nice shoes to be the support to my mom that I failed to give.  And all the while, he was the one singing.  Alex was the real champion.
     The driver was in the back.  Unfortunately, I didn't take his cue this time around--I liked the view from the front of the pack.  But I realize now that he was far more like Jesus than I was on that hike.  It wasn't wrong or bad of me to be more fit than my family.  That's a great thing!  But I exercise hard in own private time, I didn't need to do that here.  What's the point of getting in shape, anyway?  To outdo someone else?  I don't think so. I think it's so I can slow down and encourage someone who isn't.  Not shoving them ahead, but coming alongside.
     I often find myself impatiently giving sticks and trying to pull people to where I want them to be in their walks.  I'm not just talking physically, I'm talking in all aspects of life.  For example, as the boys' Bible teacher here I have often find myself them to the deep inner workings of theology and pull them too quickly to places that they haven't yet reached.  If I could, I'd probably teleport them to levels of deeper understanding and faith, but that's not how God set it up.  Jesus humbled himself, and walked with us.  Walked.  He didn't put us in rocket ships and ship us off.  He walked, even though he could run.  Heck, Jesus could fly if he wanted to!  But he walked.  And you know what?  At the end of the day, he's the one singing.  It's about time I learn from him.

Okay, God, let's get these shoes muddy today.  I want to hang back with the driver.