Sometimes you just need to lean in

Two notable experiences happened this week. Both were a reminder that sometimes in life, you just need to lean in.

The first, and really most important, is that Dad and I hiked the Hanging Lake trail today. He has wanted to do it for a few years now, as we all try to get to Glenwood every year for the pool and are called to the seduction of the Hanging Lake trail every time we drive through the canyon. What I love about this trail is the myth that surrounds it. Some say it used to be easier; some say it was recently renovated; some say it is one of the hardest trails...everyone has their memories of years past hiking that trail. I know I do, but I can't remember if it was easy or hard. It is as if once you master the trail it wipes all memory of the experience out of your mind.

I must admit, I was anxious this morning about the hike. I didn't want to chicken out and let Dad down, but I also know my body has limits. I was remembering a hike to Mt. Sanitas in Boulder where I went with a friend but couldn't even make it halfway up. Dad may have had some anxiety as well, but he didn't say it nor show it. We both gave each other the okay that if it got too hard we could come back down. But in my heart of hearts, I knew that I was in it. 

The first part of the trail was like stairstepping rocks. Luckily, Dad brought his ski poles and shared one with me. Then the trail might even out, then more rocks, then really steep sandy gravel. We happened upon six bridges and each bridge got a "woo hoo" from me because it meant straight and level ground for at least a few steps. I was sweaty, glasses foggy. Dad was careful, purposeful. We only saw a few people going up the trail as it was early. The end of the trail were these steep stairs that I almost turned my back on. But I knew I couldn't do that to Dad.

We got to the lake and it was stunning. A real wonder of the natural world. It was chilly but the sky was clear as was the water. We saw fish swimming and ecosystems filled with thick growth. I had left my camera in the car, so I am appropriating this picture that was posted online by "the Fletcher family"...

We sat there a bit, chatted with another person who had ventured up as well, and then headed back down. Going down on this trail is almost harder than going up. Not only must you watch your footing, your thighs are weak from the effort it took to climb the dirt trail, rocks and stairs. Jello would be the word to describe the legs during the descent. The pole was helpful but then I started constantly putting pressure on the one arm with the pole so that arm is sore. Dad scaled down beautifully and I was a bit of a mess, convinced I left my legs at the lake. It felt good when we were closer to our destination than the new hikers were to theirs.

At the end, I looked like a sweaty mess. Dad, on the other hand, looked just as dapper as he always does. Cowboy hat intact, no visible sweat, and only a little dirt on his pants...while I looked like I stood under the waterfall all morning. We went back to the car and got the camera. I knew we needed to commemorate this somehow...

The second notable happening is that I got a job. Not even one week out of social work school and I have been hired! It wasn't seeming that optimistic before graduating as I had applied to numerous places a month before graduation and was rejected or never heard back. I happened upon a social worker job opening at a hospice that covers Grand Junction, Montrose and Delta. I thought, "What the Heck!" and put in my application. They invited me to interview Monday, so I made it into a little vacation. I got to know Montrose, had my interview, and then drove through Grand Junction to Glenwood Springs. All the while, the little voice in the back of my head was asking me about moving, how I felt the interview went, and what I would do if the woman called me to hire me. I kept checking voicemail all week to no avail, until today, when I got her call. She asked "Would you like to come work for us?" I had done so much thinking all week I said, "Yes Please!" The opportunity is great...it is a reputable hospice with a monopoly of the industry in the valley. It reminded me a lot of Agape where I interned, plus it is a full time gig with all the benefits adults enjoy-health insurance, 403B plan, good pay, and licensure supervision for my clinical license free of charge. Every job I found in Denver was part-time, no benefits, and on call during hours not working. So, I had to weigh the move with the great opportunity that it is. I think the boys and I will enjoy the adventure. Montrose is within an hour of Telluride, Ouray, Gunnison, and Crested Butte. Weekends will be full of adventure for sure!

I enjoyed the time away, though it took until Wednesday to get relaxed. I drove through Palisade, where the orchards aren't yet blooming but it is still pretty. I love this picture-the brown and gray colors along with the vibrant greens...and the other picture-no produce was available just yet but I love the idea of this along a random road...

The drive to the interview was nice-I took US 50 over Monarch Pass. The views were pretty, though I ran into road work an hour before my interview which shattered my nerves...

Dad met me in Glenwood yesterday afternoon. In the morning, I drove to my favorite spot-Redstone. Like my flowers this year, some of the small mountain towns are waking up later in the season due to the lingering cold weather. Thus, none of the stores were really open, but I managed to grab a shot of Mt. Sopris...

I managed, too, to find one of my beloved Gnomes atop a post at a local store...

Sometimes, in life, you just need to lean in. Enjoy the scenery. Take hold of new opportunities. Life is so much like a river. Take the Crystal River for example, that runs along Carbondale and Redstone. No part of that river ever stays the same-It changes with the environment, the seasons, the rushing water. From Herman Hesse:

"But out of all secrets of the river, he today only saw one, this one touched his soul. He saw: this water ran and ran, incessantly it ran, and was nevertheless always there, was always and at all times the same and yet new in every moment! Great be he who would grasp this, understand this! He understood and grasped it not, only felt some idea of it stirring, a distant memory, divine voices."