Down We Go and Up We Climb

This past summer, Cameron and I (along with Steve and Sharon) climbed a mountain.  We set out with a guidebook in hand and looked forward to a destination that promised to be well worth the journey.   I would describe the hike as an easy to moderate climb.  At times, we strolled and enjoyed talking with each other.   At other times, breathing took priority, and there was no conversation.   Most of the trail seemed ordinary, and some of it even less than.  But, at various points along the way, our view was opened up and we were able to catch a glimpse of the scenery and valley below, giving us just a taste of what lay in store at the top of the mountain.

After some time, we reached our destination and we were not disappointed.

It was beautiful. 

 From where we stood on that mountain peak, we looked down upon a scenic valley and saw two small lakes tucked into the trees far below us.  We were glad we came.  We felt content with our accomplishment that evening.  

After resting for a few moments, we noticed that the trail continued from where we stood.  It descended partway into the valley and then climbed steeply to an even higher mountain peak.  While we had already reached our intended destination, there was now an opportunity for another one.  This sparked our interest and we wondered out loud if we should continue and climb to that next peak.  The argument to call it a day was a good one.  We were tired.  The trail ahead looked much steeper than the trail behind had been.   The sun was falling lower in the sky and darkness would be upon us if we didn’t turn back soon.  And finally, the biggest reason, in my opinion, to turn back was that we would have to go down into the valley first which meant an even longer and steeper hike to the top of the next mountain.

There were so many good reasons not to climb higher.  The view from where we stood was lovely.   But, we knew that we would be disappointed in ourselves if we didn’t make the extra push and see the view from that next peak. 

So, down we went.

And up we climbed.

The trail was steeper. 

The sun was lower. 

And we were indeed tired.

But, the scenery from that next peak was not just lovely like the first had been…it was spectacular.
 

 

From this second, higher mountain peak, our view was opened up on all sides.  As we turned full circle, to the north we saw the original valley beneath us, and could now see that there were three (not two) gorgeous lakes nestled in the pine trees below.  We then turned our gaze over the mountains that divided that valley from the next one, and in the distance to the east, we could see the scenic little towns of Midway and Heber.  And finally, as we turned to the south, our eyes took in the majestic mountain peaks of American Fork Canyon including the impressive Mount Timpanogas.

We stood in awe as the clouds raced by beneath our feet.  We took pictures with our camera and pictures with our hearts, hoping to never forget what we saw that night.  We talked about how grateful we were that we did not turn back, that we did not miss this chance to see the world like we saw it in that moment.  Had we not climbed higher, we would never have known what we missed.   We were so glad we didn’t miss it!

As I have reflected on this memory, I can’t help but see this experience as a metaphor for our Heavenly Father’s plan for each of us.  The last few years have been difficult ones for me.  I have spent a lot of time traversing a valley floor and longing to reach that next peak.  The trail has been steep, much steeper than I was previously accustomed to.  Because I am still climbing, I sometimes look back at that last peak in my life and can’t help but wish I was there, where the view was lovely and where I was content and simply glad I came.  

But, I have come to know that my Heavenly Father, who sees the end from the beginning, has given me an opportunity.  He has taken me from that previous mountain top, down into a deep and wide valley and He has invited me to climb higher.    Most days, the trail I am climbing feels quite ordinary.   Some days I get lost in the trees.  But once in a while, my view is opened up, and I catch a glimpse of what my Heavenly Father has in store for me and, in those moments, I know that it is worth the climb.   In those moments, I know that while it might be easy to list the reasons to not keep climbing, I will surely be disappointed if I do not push onward and upward to that next peak.  I feel in my heart, the promise of another mountain-top moment ahead, and I know that when I get there, I will be in awe of what I could not see from the previous peak in my life.

The experience that I have described is not unique to me.  I know that I am not the only one that has been led from mountain peak to valley floor and invited to climb higher.  In fact, I believe that this is the essence of our mortal journey on earth.  If you want to look at the big picture, we stood on a mountaintop called heaven before we came to earth.  I would guess that the view from our heavenly home was lovely, that we were content and glad to be there. We arrived here on earth and found ourselves on a valley floor, with a great big climb ahead of us.  We have each been invited to return to our heavenly home and we know that when we get there, what used to be a lovely place to live will then be a celestial place filled with joy beyond comprehension.  

Our time on earth teaches us that this is more than a “big–picture” analogy.  While we are all striving for the same end goal, we each climb an individual trail to get there.  Each of us will have our own series of mountaintop and valley floor moments in the journey back to Heaven.  Sometimes the valleys are shallow and are crossed quickly and without much trouble.   We climb from mountaintop to mountaintop with ease and enjoy the view along the way.  We don’t feel pushed beyond our limits and we become very comfortable with the scenery from where we stand.  Other times we are led into valleys that are so deep and dark that we go days or weeks or even months without feeling the sun on our face.  Sometimes, we cannot see past the trees right in front of us, let alone catch a glimpse of the beautiful destination that lies in store ahead.  During these times, we might wonder why a loving Heavenly Father would lead us through such a valley.  We might question our ability to keep climbing and even long to turn back to a time and a place when we were comfortable and life was easier.

I have learned that even though we don’t like spending time in the valley, good things can happen there.  I have learned that while the trail from valley floor to mountain top can be steep and strenuous and certainly unpleasant, remarkable growth happens when we push ourselves to climb higher.  The beginning pages of the Book of Mormon are a perfect example of this.  Nephi tells of his life in Jerusalem.  We know that his family had many possessions and, given his brothers’ incessant murmuring upon leaving these possessions, we can assume that life for their family had been comfortable.  In the book of First Nephi, the Lord leads this family from their comfortable “mountaintop” existence and down into the literal valley of Lemuel.  From here they travel for years in the wilderness trusting that they will one day reach the Promised Land.  It is easy to skim through these chapters and not notice that this family spent eight entire years in the wilderness before they finally boarded a ship and started their journey across the ocean.  After a long and arduous sea voyage, they finally reached the Promised Land.  While I am sure that this was a mountaintop moment for them, we know that Nephi did not enjoy peace and contentment for long before he was led into yet another valley and invited to climb even higher.   What do we learn about Nephi when he was faced with seemingly endless adversity?  We learn that he sought to know the mysteries of God (2:15); that he prayed and had faith (2:15/ 2:19); that he was not a complainer (3:6); that he was obedient even in the most trying circumstances (3:7,);  that he was receptive to the promptings of the spirit (4:3,);  and willing to do whatever the Lord asked of him (17:8-10).  While we can be sure that Nephi proved himself to the Lord, I love to think about what Nephi proved to Nephi during his time in the wilderness.

 I believe that it is through adversity that we prove to our Heavenly Father and, more importantly, learn for ourselves who we really are and who we can become.  It is in the valley floor moments of our lives that our flaws and our strengths are magnified.  In these moments we discover critical elements of our character and then we are invited to climb; to make weak things become strong and strong things become stronger.  We are promised that we will never be sorry that we made the climb and that the destination will always be more than well worth the journey. 

Amy Loader

Amy Loader was a strong and faithful woman.  She and her husband, James lived in England where James worked for a wealthy gentleman as his head gardener and foreman of his estate.  They had 13 children together.  When they were converted to the gospel and baptized as members of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, James was fired from his job as a consequence.  In November of 1855 they left for America.  They arrived first in New York where all of them, even the children worked for a time.  In June of 1856 they traveled to Iowa where they met their grown daughter Zilpah, who had arrived previously with her husband, John and her one-year-old daughter Flora.   

The days and weeks ahead were not to be easy ones for Amy and her family.  At one point in their journey, her daughter described how little they had to eat: “We did not get but very little meat as the bone had been picked the night before and we did not have only the half of a small biscuit as we only was having four ounces of flour a day.  This we divided into portions so we could have a small piece three times a day.” 

We know that many pioneer families started for Zion together, but arrived in the valley having buried and left precious loved ones on the trail behind them.  Amy’s family was no exception to this.   Her husband, James died fairly early in the trek, leaving her and her children to finish the journey without him.  Her young granddaughter, Flora, also died, one week before they reached the valley. 

Trying times for sure, but instead of crumbling under the weight of these burdens, Amy rose to the challenges she faced.  It has been said of her that “She protected, sustained and cheered her children as well as others without complaining, and manifested great faith in God.”  She was a wonderful mother.  It has also been said of her that, “She put on all the extra clothing she could carry under her own, so when the children needed dry clothing, she always had it.  As the weather became colder and provisions shorter, they were given four ounces of flour a day for each person.” While others made gruel, Amy made her small rations of flour into biscuits so that she and her family could have a bite or two throughout the day and she could share with her children when they were tired and faint. 

After one exceptionally cold night, Amy (whose health was also very fragile), could not get her daughters to arise.  I imagine that she felt fear rising in her chest, when she finally said, “Come girls, this will not do.  I believe I will have to dance to you and try to make you feel better.”  Amy struggled to her feet, hair falling about her face as she filled the air with song.  Louder and louder she sang, her wasted frame swaying as she finally danced waving her skirts back and forth.  The girls laughed, and momentarily forgot their frozen toes and snow-covered blankets, as their mother danced and sang and twirled until she stepped on an icy patch and fell in a heap to the ground.  Then, her daughter wrote, ‘…in a moment we was all up to help our dear Mother up for we was afraid she was hurt.  She laughed and said ‘I thought I could soon make you all jump up if I danced to you.’  Then (her daughter said) we found that she fell down purposely for she knew we would all get up to see if she was hurt.  She said that she was afraid her girls was going to give out and get discouraged and she said that would never do to give up.”

I stand in awe of pioneer women like, Amy Loader; women who sacrificed their comfort, their homes, their health and sometimes their lives for a God that they loved and a gospel that they knew to be true; women who buried their husbands and their babies on the dusty or the frozen or the muddy plains and then picked themselves and kept on walking; women who fed their children from their own rations while their own stomachs surely ached with hunger; women who danced and sang and twirled their frail and ravaged bodies on cold winter mornings to lift their children’s spirits and ensure that they did not give up.  While Amy lost much on her journey, she never lost her faith.  Her daughter said “Heavenly Father heard and answered our prayers and we was blessed with health and strength day by day to endure the severe trials we had to pass through on that terrible journey.  We know that if God had not been with us that our strength would have failed us…I can say we put our trust in God and he heard and answered our prayers and brought us to the valley.” 

Amy Loader will not be far from my mind or my heart as we embark on our trek this summer in honor of her and so many others that walked and walked and walked across the plains.  I pray that I and we will not miss any opportunity to learn from the past, lessons that will surely bless us today and tomorrow and for years to come.