The name
alone, “The 100 Mile Wilderness,” gives you a sense of weight and hesitation;
it seems to illuminate for me a understanding of that which is not easy,
convenient, or comforting. These four words are something my mind has repeated
and thought on often this past week. My dear and adventurous family has left
for their journey along the Appalachian Trail, leaving the house, four cats,
and a dog, all to my sweet mother and I.
For as long as I can remember my dad
has dreamt of this 6 month hike, and it didn't take my sister and brother long
to begin dreaming it as well. Since then, my sister's husband and my little
cousin have taken on the adventure with them. Now, the time for the 5 of them
to leave has finally come as to about a week ago, and here I sit- surrounded by
cats, sore from mowing the lawn, and googling the nearest dumpsters for
tomorrow's trash duty. Is this a place every college graduate finds themselves
in, or is this just me? Regardless, it is safe to say I have launched into a
new season of my life, and it is full of lessons.
"The 100
Mile Wilderness" has seemed to be a lesson itself, for me these past few days.
This is the northernmost part of the Appalachian Trail, and is currently the
section my family is passing through now. If you Google this trek you might
find descriptions such as: one of the most remote trails in the United States,
uninhabited, seldom traveled, harsh contrasts, and unforgiving to the
ill-prepared. Make no mistake about it; this is nature in the raw. This rough
and narrow path is surrounded by 15 million acres of inaccessible woodlands-
making it a hearty test of their physical strength and commitment within. We
are to assume that the average length it'll take our hikers to get through this
stretch is around ten days. That is 10 days of no contact all the family back
home has with them. This has given my mind free range to think of all the
different circumstances they could be in. All in all, I always come back to the
question, “how?” How can one want to walk through 100 miles of straight
wearying and rigorous wilderness (not to mention- still have over 2,000 miles
to go afterwards)?
I have come to believe the answer is found
more in not the “how” but the “why.” I am sure there are endless varieties of
reasons “why” that have crossed through Maine's wilderness path, but I believe
those reasons were the very thing that kept them going: their goal, their
focus, their purpose…their reward. The more I think about it, I realize this is
a question we can all ask ourselves; perhaps we are all walking, or being
called, to a 100 Mile Wilderness. We may not be asked, “What are you walking
for,” but more so “what are you living for?”
This is a
question I find that constantly points me to my Light. As for myself, I see my
purpose here on this earth to glorify my creator- by loving Him and loving His
people. It is in His midst that I find my hope, perseverance, and worth.
Therefore, as I go through “100 miles of wilderness,” whether it be a day's
worth or a month, a heavy burden or light affliction, my purpose remains,
pushing me forward. I think of how beautiful and thrilling the end of this
stretch is going to be for my hikers; how rejuvenated and encouraged they will
be to move on; and how thankful and satisfied they will be with what was
accomplished. Just like the sun must die in the west if it is to rise in the
east, we must endure to receive the reward in full. You hear the analogy all
the time; let us not forget the climb up the mountain is what sets us on it's
top.
One of the
boldest things Christ taught us on the cross was that suffering is directly
linked to glory. Is it possible this is just the thought we have forgotten?
Hardship, even the smallest scale of it- waiting, discomfort, setbacks,
disruptions, or whatever may not seem to line up with our wishes- we want none
of it. We then are left only to find ourselves short of what we once saw lying
ahead, no closer to our pursuit, and at a standstill of believing above our
fears.
My family is walking right now, through what many of us
choose not to tolerate, for we look at it as an inconvenient. Therefore, I have
learned from them this week, to pinpoint my wilderness and walk- looking at it
only as the path to my reward.
Hold tight to what is
coming, pursue it passionately, and believe far above what you may fear.
I can walk through the
wilderness, but it takes a steady fixing of my gaze on the cross- what I am
living for.
-Lexi Adams
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Images from: backpacker.com
