Good Birthday (No Matter How You Look At It)

Lately, I have been uptight. I know this, though I am not always good at doing something about it. Yesterday was my birthday, and my husband was trying really hard to make it a relaxing day for me. He got up with the kids and the dog and let me sleep, which is doubly nice when I have a bad head cold as well. He and the kids gave me some gift certificates to the mall. And he offered me an outing of my choice after the soccer games.

I chose an Adirondacks hike. Those mountains have been calling my name since I moved here, and on the news they were saying that it was one of the peak color weekends there. It was also the first day in six that there was sun. So we packed up kids and dog in the Subaru and headed out.

As we got nearer the colors got more and more brilliant. We hopped out at the trail head to discover that there were LOTS of people with the same idea.

If you know me, you know that crowded nature experiences tick me off. When I get out in nature, I do not want to be literally rubbing elbows with strangers. So I was a little disappointed as I was climbing alongside other people in nice clothes toting along umbrellas. Umbrellas?! The sky was suddenly starting to look threatening...

Then it started to downpour. My sinuses were throbbing. My recently groomed dog was no longer cream-colored and lavender-scented, but caked in mud. My kids were as dirty as my dog. I saw hours of work ahead of me as I am designated dog-bather and laundry maid. Plus my new Subaru's interior was definitely going to get slimed. As Jeff shooed us all under some tree cover I started to complain. Yes, I did. Ungratefully and childishly, as my children were like, "Mom! This is supposed to be fun!" Jeff gave me a look that only Jeff could both get away with, and stop me in my tracks. I took a deep breath and said, "Give me a minute please."

I looked at my dog with his tail wagging, happy as can be. I listened to my kids begging to get on with the hike, regardless of the rain. I thought, "I'm in the Adirondacks, for crying out loud. We came all this way. I can enjoy myself, or pout. Jeff can bathe the kids while I bathe the dog, and we got the Subaru so that we could do stuff like this. I can be fussy or fun. What is WRONG with me?!" I apologized, smiled, and started up again with the rest of my family.

It was so worth it. The kids (and the dog) thought it was quite an adventure to be scrambling over rocks, climbing a mountain. The umbrella-laden pseudo-hikers slowly dropped off (because they discovered that its really hard to climb a slippery mountain with an umbrella in your hands) and we hiked alone much of the way. We began to get breathtaking views as we climbed higher and higher. The sun peeked out of the dramatic grey rain clouds highlighting segments of technicolored mountain.
When we got near the top, the sun came out and lit up the landscape. Jeff and I commented that we had never seen such amazing fall color. And then, right in front of us, this rainbow appeared. It looked like you could slide down it to a pot of gold.

A connection occurred in my mind and heart. I'm in this metaphorically rainy place in my life right now that has its own merits and supposed to be great, but it is tough to keep going and not complaining. The rainbow, I felt, was my secret little birthday promise from God, that it will be worth it. The sun will shine again. The colors will appear, and I will be glad I made the journey. And actually, it's even nice now, in many ways, if I just focus on the right things.

At the church we went to this morning the pastor said something like, "The people who changed the world's history were the people who changed their response." In other words, when they were hit in the face, they turned the other cheek, and broke the cycle-of-violence-what- everybody-else-does-natural-human-but-unproductive response. (By the way, if the pastor's quote makes it into my blog - the Rozelles have probably found their church...) My friend Julie always says "Your response is your responsibility." In my human development classes, we learn that people's perception of an event directly impacts how they handle the crisis and determines if they will adapt or not.

We had a wonderful time. The day was a gift. The physical ability to climb. Gift. A beautiful place to hike in a beautiful season. Gift. A wonderful family to spend it with. Gift. And the opportunity to see things in a different, healthier light. Gift. ( I feel like I owe Rob Bell a citation or something...)

In the grand scheme of things, my family won't care what my grades were or how clean the Subaru or floors of the house were. They'll remember if they had fun on family outings, if our house was a place they felt at home, if I was a drag to be with or if they felt loved and relaxed in my presence. And in the end, I want to be a person who changes history. I'd really rather be hiking up the mountain than at the bottom afraid to get dirty.

It was a happy birthday. And Biscuit, my sashaying shih tzu with a Bernese Mountain Dog heart, is his normal color again. We all know he's not afraid to get dirty.