nickmullis.com

January 8, 2023

The Long and Winding Break: Time for a Sabbatical!

Twenty-one years ago, I returned to Lawrence County after being away at college, unsure of what was next. I found myself in youth ministry, something I never expected to be doing. Ten years ago I founded Between the Crowd, a new ministry for the adolescents of my home county.

Through the years, thousands of students have passed through our programs. Some students are still struggling in life. Some are knocking it out of the park, and several are actually leading ministries of their own now.

Suicides were prevented… Addictions were challenged… New life was offered… A lot of students said yes to Jesus and some are still searching.

In the past twenty-one years, I have done my best to build a brighter tomorrow. I have spent myself to borrow from Sir Winston Churchill, in blood, toil, tears, and sweat. I have broken bones. I have had sleepless nights. I have sat in restaurants into the early hours listening to teenagers weep, and answered my phone in the middle of the night. On more than one occasion, I stood at the edge of burnout. In all this, Jesus has held me up and helped me focus on the task at hand, reaching young people with the gospel of Jesus.

To be honest, amid success, I have had my moments of failure. Students have needed me to show up, and I didn’t. Some needed a listening ear, and I talked over them. Others needed sympathy, and I offered judgement. In all cases, I hope people can see Jesus despite me. I am a flawed, growing human being who is trying to be better today than I was yesterday. It requires a lot of grace from Jesus and patience with myself and from the surrounding humanity.

All that said… It is time for a break, a long break! This summer, 2023, I am taking a sabbatical. There is Biblical precedent for this journey. Every seven years, the people of Israel were to rest and let the land rest. I’m going to take a rest and do some things that fill my soul and go on a couple of spiritual pilgrimages. That means I am trekking all over Europe. I want to visit the places C. S. Lewis taught, wrote, and sat. I want to walk where John Wesley walked. I want to kneel and pray where the Moravians launched a 100 year prayer meeting; then cry in the places where St. Francis of Assisi wept. I want to walk for days to let it all settle in my heart and mind. There is a lot of fun spread out in there as well. My aim is to give myself space to rest and recover from twenty-one years of an amazing rollercoaster—ministry.

I want to invite you into this process. Between the Crowd gives me a stipend and I will put my money into the adventure. I want to invite you to join me in making this adventure happen. I have set a goal for $5,000 raised. I consider anything above that goal a donation to Between the Crowd. If you can’t give, please take a minute and pray for me as I refresh and pray for Between the Crowd as we prepare for the next ten years.

Thank you in advance for whatever you choose to do! I am grateful for every student, parent, and volunteer that has crossed my path in the last twenty-one years.

This is the link to my Go Fund Me account:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/its-time-for-a-sabbatical?qid=9c9124c15d07af0dafedc1e801ad4ad8

July 10, 2022

The Great Greek Adventure! Cruising Around the Greek Isles.

Jamie’s foot came off the steps of the plane. She looked around, turned on her heels as she smiled and shouted to the rest of us, “WE’RE IN GREECE!”

The dry dusty hills around the Athenian airport welcomed us. Our first two days were wandering through the capital city. We sat at an outdoor cafe and a family meal of shared suvlaiki, Greek salads, pita bread, and feta dips that were magically savory and sweet at the same time.

Hours walking through one of the market districts and it was time to return to our hotel. Not quite ready for bed, we took the tiny elevators up to the Rooftop Bar. Every member of our group gasped and paused in the doorway. The Parthenon stood lit against the purple night sky, offering its own welcome to Greece.

After a restful night, we hit the pavement early with a city tour. It is hard to understand how ancient Athens and Greek culture really are until you walk the streets and realize that at every turn, there is a site of archeological interest. Even in the underground train station there is a cross section showing the layers of the city through the millennia, complete with a grave dating to 3500BCE.

We paused for the changing of the guard before hustling on to a stunning garden, then the march up the acropolis. Looking at the high point, the night before was staggering. Now we stood in the same place as Caesars, and countless worshipers of a religion that has passed into mythology. We even stood on the rock where the Apostle Paul defended his faith and pointed out the statue of the unknown god in Athens.

The Acropolis behind us, we made our way through the flower lined streets of the historic Plaka District. We stumbled into a family restaurant off one narrow street that was paved in marble several centuries ago. The food filled our tired bodies and opened gateways into friendship and family.

One more trip to the Rooftop, the acropolis looking different, one more “We’re in Greece” whispered among our newly formed troupe, one more sleep in our hotel, and one more amazing breakfast than we climbed onto the bus that took us to our home for the next seven days.We embarked on the Celestial Crystal cruise ship, a small ship for those overwhelmed by the idea of a Carnival cruise. With a passenger capacity under two-thousand even the most wary introvert can find space to recharge. We smiled and laughed together, launching from our first port, and we soon found our communal home sitting on the aft deck watching the ships’ screws churn the water from dark electric blue to minty teal. Still unsure if this was a dream or not, we recapped the highlights of our first days together.

The first day at sea brought us to the port of Thessaloniki, a modern city with a lively ocean front life, and rich history to rival Athens. We made our way out of the historic port and down to Aristotle Square. Grabbing the big toe of the statue to the great thinker, we hoped to gain some wisdom in the process. From the seaside, we turned toward the hills and walked to churches that reminded us America was still an infant. We visited a basilica built on the bath where an emperor had Saint Dimitrius martyred. After a long pause at the church, we entered a side street where the last remnants of tourism faded away and we found ourselves on long narrow stairways leading to the high points of the city. After a dozen sets of stairs, we found the monastery built on the site the Apostle Paul first preached to the Thessalonians in 51AD. The humble compound had a small zoo and offered sweeping views of the city and sea below.

Our party reveled in the march back to the port. We visited the White Tower and the statue of Alexander the Great before we joined the cafe life—sitting on the water sipping milk shakes and lattes like we were born for this. The sun sank behind the horizon and we dressed up a bit for dinner and the ship set a course for Turkey.

The sun rose in a new country and welcomed us to walk the largest archeological sites in Turkey. With Cuan (pronounced John) our guide, we started on the high streets of Ephesus and strolled through the gates of Hercules past the healing area. We paused at the doorway of the Library to stand in awe of the huge and beautiful structure that began its life as a mausoleum. Twenty minutes later, I stood in the center of the great amphitheaters stage. I read out Paul’s letter to the Ephesians and stood humbled by the magnitude of his work.

We climbed back on the bus and moved from one piece of Turkish history to another. Famous for their rugs, it seemed we didn’t really experience Turkey until we learned their fine art. They produce, by hand, some of the most beautiful rugs I have ever seen. The functional art works brought a tear to my eye. They threw rugs at our feet while we sipped apple tea. We danced in bare feet, staggered by the softness. Then they shared the magic of the rugs spinning them to make the color shift before our eyes. That night, visions of magic flying carpets, apple tea, and Turkish delight filled our dreams.

The ancient city of Rhodes was our next stop. The old walls still stand protecting the village, but they filled the village with beautiful shops and delightful restaurants. As soon as we disembarked from the ship, we grabbed a taxi to chauffer us to the feet of the Colossus of Rhodes, paused for a picture of the temple to Venus before we jumped back into the taxi. Then rode up to the acropolis of Rhodes for views that you need to sit down for. The taxi rolled down the pavement further, and we found ourselves at the pillars of the Patron god of Rhodes—Apollo. When we returned to the Old City, we made our way into some of the side passages in the walls around the fortress and castle, not knowing what adventures awaited us along the way.

In Rhodes, we embarked early so we could sail through the night to the tiny island of Crete. Our visit to Heraklion was short, but pleasant. Some climbed on buses and headed for the countryside to learn to dance, and a few of us stayed near the ship and walked along the docks to see where adventure might take us. Lunch on the ship and then to much anticipated Santorini.

Santorini was our first tender from ship to shore. We piled into the smaller ship and made our way across the submerged active volcano to the inner slope of the ring. Another bus and we were climbing the switchbacks to the rim where they built their cities. Buildings of bright white and brightly colored doors lined the narrow streets. We stepped aside to allow a group on horseback through. Down through the town to the bus waiting to take us to the famous city of Oia. If you buy a puzzle picturing Greece, it likely has the white walled, blue domed churches of Oia waiting to be put together. The most beautiful picture I took in Greece was in the narrow, tourist filled streets of this tiny village. Despite the world famous beauty of Oia, the most wonderful sight of the island was still ahead of us.

We had a final short bus ride until our bus broke down. The short ride became twice as long while we waited on the side of the road for a new bus to pick us up. The cool evening air and lovely countryside made the wait worthwhile. Without the delay, the sky would have still been bright and the wonder of the capital city of Fira lessened. With a broken-down bus, it was full dark when we reached the capital and entranced by white buildings with strings of warm glowing lights stretched between them. We were hungry, but the beauty that surrounded us was enough to quail the pains.

A mountain tram, which is a close cousin to the gondola ski lift, carried us back down to the port. From the tram we looked up at Fira and discovered the most stunning site in Greece—Santorini, at night. I am convinced the view of Fira, at night, from the sea, was Tolkiens’ inspiration for the white city of Minas Tirith. It was a beacon of light against the dark night sky above, and the black volcanic interior below. We returned to the ship and, for hours, sat on the aft deck chatting and staring up at the wonder.

The next sunrise was on the island of Mykonos and Mykonos Town. Some walked down the roads, some took the shuttle. I was determined to be in the Aegean.

I walked, took buses, and taxis, but finally found my way to a small secluded stretch of sand well away from the tourist zone. The sand didn’t belong to me alone, but there were far fewer people at Kapari than any of the organized beaches we passed. I walked from my towel into the sea and it welcomed me with cool, clear water. You could see the bottom even when I swam out to water 20 or more feet deep. Under the water you could see for meters in any direction. After a couple of hours swimming and enjoying the sun and the beach filled up, it was time to begin the journey back. A bus carried me back into town and I made my way through the narrow streets to get back to the ship.

A shower, nap, and change of clothes and I headed back out to explore the town I had only walked through earlier in the day. The streets, in places, were so narrow two people couldn’t walk shoulder to shoulder. The walkways and paths between buildings vibrated with life. People laughed and talked as they meandered the marbled trails. Turn a corner to head back to the bay and deep rhythms, and pulsing music filled your ears and life radiated from people dancing in clubs, on the streets, and in restaurants. All of this unassuming town emanated vitality and invited you to join in all that is life giving.

Our latest night out on the town ended with us again sitting on the aft end of the fifth deck. We laughed about our day and our varied adventures before we headed back to the cabins for our penultimate sleep.

Friday found us in port at Milos and ready to swim. We were off in search of beaches. Our first was not a traditional beach but the alien surface of Sarakiniko. This white stone beach felt like they pulled it from a sci-fi flick. The weirdness grew when we discovered the tunnels that were dug by the Nazis as an air defense at the end of World War Two.

We wandered in the tunnels and on the alien landscape for an hour, and then it was time to flee this abnormal spectacle and head to the more conventional Paleochori beach.

Two natural rock walls divided the seaside paradise into three sections. In the middle is the family friendly portion. To your right is the semi private area called Deep Blue, and to your left is where those that want to be one with nature go. No matter the section that calls to you, the water is the same—unbelievably clear blue. Above or below water, you could see far in any direction.

Between the family friendly portion of the beach and Deep Blue, there is a cave that cuts through the rock and sets you in a pool of water that is a volcanic vent. If you stand in one space too long, you are bound to burn your feet. It was worth the risk of seeing the little hidden treasure.

An exhausting two hours of swimming and it was time to return to the ship. We had one last sleep and while we rested, our Cruise-liner carried us back to our port of origin. From there we rode the bus to the airport where our united adventure around the Aegean sea became several individual journeys back to home. Delayed flights, rerouting, and a few lost bags, but everyone made it home with a story to share for a lifetime.

February 20, 2022

This Met The Goal, But It’s Shameful

It’s been a while since I wrote or published anything for nickmullis.com. I have a lot of thoughts about many topics and ideas, but rarely are they tied together. Since I have no clear vision of what I want my blog to be about this makes it hard to write and since I don’t have an audience which to pander to I have an even more difficult time coming up with consistent thoughts to present in the written word.

This is the tragedy of being a collector of ideas. There are times when far too much is going on in my mind and I can’t pull together a coherent idea. I want to write about the fascinating ideas I developing in the Genesis. For a few days, I meander through a world of thought on adolescent development and creating rites of passage that help them move to adulthood. What for a minute and my mind will shift like Indiana weather and I will pontificate on leadership theory and how it affects the church in practical ways?

On my moodier days, I ruminate on my frustrations with pastoral ministry, the broken educational system, and politicians that are saying the same sorts of things but refuse to work together because of letter set beside their name.

In one sitting, you can find me quoting Eugene Peterson, C. S. Lewis, Mark Twain, James Baldwin, and Jordan Peterson.

On Sunday, I am ready to get a seminary degree and on Monday I’m looking at schools for counseling.

I swing between writing a murder mystery novel and a theological work on our understanding of grace, mercy, and sin.

Catch me after a good night’s sleep and a warm mug of tea and I am ready to plumb the depths of time theory and the development of our ethical positions.

This is all why my tag line for my site is, “Musing about things that may or may not deserve musing.”

How do you develop an audience when everything and nothing hold your attention?

Even this little ramble is an aimless sauntering for the sake of intellectual back patting. It isn’t likely to be read by anyone, so it ultimately doesn’t matter, but it meets my goal for the week.

Should you read this… If there is something specific you would like my thoughts on, please let me know.

April 30, 2021

Freedom From Their Emotional Baggage!

How do you let go when someone has dumped their emotional mess in your lap?

I’m not convinced I am better at disconnecting than anyone else, but if someone

else has noticed, maybe I am better than average. In 20 years of ministry, I haven’t always been good at it. I have struggled with sleep and lost my appetite because I was wrestling with someone else’s problem.

I’m not sure that grappling with someone else’s struggle is the problem—after all, prayer is interceding for another person. The problem arises when we internalize another’s brokenness, and then it becomes our own.

The great predicament with internalizing another’s hurt is our incomplete perspective. We see a snippet of the burden of their life. We fill in the gaps for our friend based on the five minute or five hours they gave us in conversation. Minutes or hours is nothing compared to living with an affliction all day every day—so we decide what they must think or feel. We are not privileged to decide what other people think.

When you onboard someone else’s baggage, here are some things that are worth recognizing and practicing.

1. Admit, “I am not God nor should I try pretending to be.”

This seems obvious, yet it is the struggle of humanity since the beginning of time. If we aren’t trying to shape God in our own image, we are attempting just to be him. Years ago, I had to realize that I couldn’t fix people. I could hear them out. I could be present in a particular moment. Sometimes I could even offer some advice, but I could never fix the brokenness. A wounded heart is beyond our ability to heal, the best we can do is point to a loving God and allow Him to do a wonderful work in the lives of our loved ones.

2. Journal

We all started this practice in elementary school. In January of my fourth-grade year, I wrote about Desert Storm. It allowed me a space to process my emotional state without internalizing the angst or stress I felt as a little kid hearing about war and not understanding what it meant. It’s a discipline I have continued, in fits and starts, over the years. My journal is now more a place I go to pray or clear out the mental cobwebs so to think more clearly, and it provides space to get unhealthy thoughts out before they become lodged in my psyche.

3. Realize some don’t want to be fixed they want to be heard.

Sometimes in life when I was struggling, I just wanted to speak the issue out loud. I struggled to find a space where I thought I could, because everyone I knew wanted to fix things. There are times people want to be heard—not fixed. All you can do is ask. If they simply want to be heard, honor the desire, listen and move on. If you genuinely listen in those circumstances, you have done your part and you can sleep that night.

4. Recognize, “I can’t carry a burden that isn’t my own.”

As I said above, I can’t understand every facet of another person’s affliction, and so I can’t allow it to become mine. When we do onboard baggage, we marry it to our own thoughts and perspectives, creating an entirely new dilemma that exists nowhere but in our minds. That isn’t helpful to the other person or yourself. Seneca once said, “We suffer more in imagination than in reality.”

5. Pain and difficulty are not always bad things, it is good to struggle.

In our culture, we have become convinced that pain is an evil. It is not. Look at nature, she tells us that pain isn’t an evil but is, sometimes, a great good. If I want to become stronger than I must endure the pain of sore muscles. A person suffering from leprosy will tell you, “they wish they felt pain.” Study and learning fatigue our minds, and in that mental exhaustion we form new synapses. During childhood I was all over the place emotionally, as most of us are. From the struggle with emotions, I learned how to sort through feelings and understand what a healthy response is. In our striving we don’t need people to take on our problem, we need cheerleaders that have walked their own road of pain and know we can survive. I don’t need them to take the pain from me I need friends to remind me I can make it.

6. I train people not to lean only on me from the beginning.

Many will think this cold, but it’s the job of any adult in a young person’s life. I tell students from day one, “there will come a time you will forget me.” If I have played my role well, I have taught young people how to think, how to make decisions, and how to better the world through love and service. Occasionally over 20 year’s students come back around and we become close friends, but that’s not the point or the object. 2,000+ students passed through programs I led, there are a couple of dozen I still talk to regularly, I have no sense of failure. I did something right because they were all seeking advice as teenagers. When they come back around as an adult it’s because they want me to share in a significant celebration (marriage, birth of a child) or their life has gone off the rails and they need help to find the reset button.

7. Make the decision that their problems can’t become yours.

This feels simplistic and on the verge of insulting, but it’s a basic truth. You decide you will not allow someone else’s problem to become yours. It is a loving action. If I allow others’ problems to become mine, then I become burned out and tired and become unhelpful to anybody.

The greatest gift we can offer someone that’s dragging too much baggage around is to love them where they are, pray for them, and point them to Jesus who can help unload their burdens.

February 8, 2021

A Time I said, “No”

“I’d rather regret the things I’ve done than regret the things I haven’t done.”

– Lucille Ball

Before I begin I feel like there needs to be a caveat to Mrs. Ball’s words… I agree with her until it comes to questions of moral rectitude, one must not violate what they know to be right or wrong simply for the sake of experience. Yes, experience is a teacher, but she is a teacher that doesn’t care whether you live or die. Wisdom steps in and allows us to learn from those who have gone before if we will allow it, and from there we can launch into the deepest life we are capable of living. In the realm of the amoral, have fun!

It was late summer; the weather was hot and muggy, even by midwestern standards. Three friends and I hit the road to a hidden gem in the hills of Tennessee. It’s a moderate sized state park that is home to some beautiful waterfalls. It’s not just the water that strikes you either—the deciduous forest that fills the area gives you a feeling of closeness, much like I would guess Fangorn Forest gave to The Fellowship of the Ring (without the intimidation).

For us, the heat made our journey sweeter; we were in search of swimming holes.

On a previous trip to the same park, another friend and I had discovered a perfect and hidden hole. We had been following a stream bed and missed the entrance to the trail. We were running short on energy and water when we stumbled upon our little oasis. My friend jumped in first without hesitation, discovering it was deeper than we had realized. Our best guess, we were staring down at a pool that was nearly twelve feet deep during a dry season and the depth meant cooler waters. A couple of hours swimming fully rejuvenated us, and we were ready to find our way back to the missed trail. I hoped someday I might return to this secret place.

Now, on this blistering humid day, I had returned, and I was hoping I could lead my friends back. I had a rough idea where we to head, but as we lept from one boulder to another, and feet became miles I started to wonder… This is a living earth and things change, more often than we notice. I climbed one last boulder and was ready to call it quits and turn around. Looking down, I could see the flat limestone stream bed that surrounded the chasm. It was still a couple of hundred yards away, but I knew it was worth the effort.

We scrambled over the remaining boulders and stopped on the shelf that stood five or six feet above the surface of the water. My friends looked at me, the question etched across their faces, “it’s hot, is it deep enough to jump in?” “Go for it. I can jump in feet first and not hit the bottom,” I said. They dropped their packs, tossed their shirts, and one by one dove in. They were obviously enjoying the cool water when they looked up at me still standing above them. They asked, “Are you going to get in?” I said, “no” then walked over to a large rock in the shade and sat down.

Anyone who knows me and has traveled with me will tell you I have a point of tiredness that causes me to isolate and be a jerk—I’m not proud of it, and every time I travel I stave off the beast a bit better.

As I starred down at the water, I hit that wall, but I was boiling enough in the heat of the day that I could have overcome. A sense of self-consciousness also struck me between the eyes. I am athletic, though I am not an athlete; I lack the killer competitive instinct to be an athlete. My friends however are athletes and they were all a couple of months removed from a spring sports season and had already started prepping for fall. I had done nothing since winter, and in my mind’s eye that difference was apparent.

My emotional wall and disdain for my physical appearance combined to create the “no” that exited my lips. There have been a lot of moments in my life when I have said, “no.” Many of them good, some of them born out of frustration. This one though is among the few that still gnaws at me. It was still an amazing trip, and I got to give my friends an amazing memory, but there in lies the problem, I didn’t share the memory with them. I was there, but not really present. It was a no that came from a selfish place, and it robbed my friends and me of memories we could have shared.

I have forgiven myself repeatedly for that day and my friends don’t even remember it happening (I asked), but I still think back on that day and want to return and jump in with them and build the memories that should already exist.

Learning to say “no” is a substantial gift, but make sure it is a gift you wield well. Don’t let foolishness rob you of life.

January 22, 2021

A Story Told Through Emails…

An explanation about what follows: I don't often write or post fiction but a friend of mine gave me a couple of prompt books for Christmas and another friend chose from the fiction prompts. What follows is me spreading my wings a bit and playing in the world of fiction. It was a challenging and fun exercise I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The prompt was to write a story that was told through emails. The emails are in italics. In bold are each writers addition to the story (if you want to speed up the reading).

It had been a long weekend hiking and my body was still hurting from the exertion. Two days after our last hike, I was still walking like I had gotten off a horse minutes ago. Sitting hurt, standing hurt, going to the bathroom hurt (I swear we just went hiking), bending over to put on shoes hurt. There was no way I was going to make it through a day at work, sitting at a computer screen staring at numbers didn’t feel right either, I stood on top of a mountain two days ago, tables of data wasn’t happening. I called in sick, which also turned out to be a mistake. At work I had coffee breaks and people to talk to. At home, I didn’t even have a dog. I was wide awake by 7:30 and after exhausting what my ceiling offered (not much) I got out of bed, made my morning cup of tea and was instantly bored. In my recliner I exhausted my wall’s offerings as well (like the ceiling it wasn’t much). At some point, I should consider decorating my apartment. I got an idea from the wall (who has always been a better friend anyway). I shuffled into my home office and creaked into my desk chair to fire off an email.

Derek & Logan,

I made a huge mistake… I stayed home from work and I am going stir crazy. Remind me in the future, if I take a Monday off after hiking to make sure I have something to do. My groceries were delivered and because I am a bit of neat freak, my apartment is already clean, I can’t even do the domestic stuff to pass the time.

Here’s my idea… Let’s write a story. I’ll start it, write a paragraph or two, and then one of you jumps in and adds a paragraph or two. Then, at the end of the day, we’ll see what we have. Game?

Cheers,

Nate

They both work in the IT department of the same company where I work accounting. That’s why I hike actually I feel like I need the balance in my life. Mind numbing drudgery balanced with cliff hanging, intense hiking, and occasionally swimming with sharks. Those two, however, don’t mind their jobs so it would take them a bit to respond. I got out of my chair, figured out a way to get undressed, and collapsed into a hot shower while I waited to hear from them. As I finished soaping up, I heard Purple Rain playing from my phone and knew I had an email.

Nate,

1. “A bit of a neat freak” is an understatement. I would eat spaghetti off your toilet seat. 2. I’m game. I’m in and out of meetings all day, so I’ll add on during the 15 minutes I have between those. Derek is in a meeting now. Someone forgot to back up a computer over the weekend and something happened, info got lost and now they have to figure it out. It may be a bit before you hear from him, he’s not exactly creative but I’m sure he’ll play, it’ll give him some place to blow off steam. I can see him through an office window and he doesn’t look happy.

Logan

Since we had no idea when Derek was going to join us, I decided to get the story going.

Logan and Derek,

Here are the rules…

1. You can’t add more than two paragraphs to the story.

2.Nothing that would make your mom blush (or your grandmother in your case Derek) (Derek’s mom had been a Marine, and she had the vocabulary and stories to prove it. Prude was not a word we used to describe her.)

3. Copy and paste the whole story every time before you add a new piece so we don’t have to go searching through the email chain to figure out where we are.

Here we go…

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess, Melody, that lived on the edge of a vast lake. She dreamed of a life on the other side of the lake, but growing up she was told there was no safe way to cross and that it was so large if she tried to walk around the lake she would surely die from exposure. She lived in dreams of the legends that were told around the fires of the village.

Sitting on her favorite rock watching the waves lap onto the shore Melody here a splash down the shore and a out view from where she was sitting. Curiosity overwhelmed her. She walked down to see what had caused it. Leaning against a tree, back away from the rocks, was a tall old man with the longest beard the princess had ever seen. As she came into view, he looked up and smirked at her. “I see you have your mother’s curiosity,” he said. “You knew my mother?” asked the princess. The old man said, “I did, a long time ago. Before I left for the other side of the lake.”

Okay guys, I look forward to seeing where this story goes.

Cheers,

Nate

I actually hadn’t finished unpacking from my trip. I emptied my pack, sorted everything out and then placed it all back in its correct spots, started a load of laundry, and made my second cup of tea for the day. Then I sat down and watched the city pass by outside my window until Prince started playing again.

Wait, what the heck is going on here? Kudos to Logan for eating off your toilet seat. Why you gotta dis my mom? Kidding she’s makes me turn red, probably why I’m still single, I have yet to bring a girl to visit mom and the first word out of her mouth is always sex or some “blue” version.

Anyway… You want me to help you write a story so you don’t get bored? Then you begin the story, Once upon a time… Are you Princess Melody? Seriously, you climb mountains then write a story like 13-year-old girl, except Tina Belcher who writes great stories. LOL.

Try again, mate.

Out,

Derek

P.S. I will play if you can get a better start.

Nate,

I hate to say it, but I agree with the Lummox… Back in an hour next meeting is starting.

Logan

Fine, either of you have a suggestion?

Cheers,

Nate

P.S. No dark and stormy nights allowed either.

Good timing. I had to use the bathroom, and I didn’t like the story start either. With some noodles and fresh veggies that got delivered not long after I got up. I pulled out a can of chopped chicken, tossed it in a pot with some chicken broth, chopped some celery and carrots, some salt and pepper, and settled into the wait while my poor man’s chicken soup simmered. When I come back from hiking trips, I’m always caught somewhere between hungry and not wanting anything heavy.

After the last series of emails I turned my phone to silent, I can only handle the same three bars of Purple Rain so many times before I am fed up. This email arrived as the skittering of my phone as it vibrated across my white ceramic counter tops. I guess I do like a sterile environment.

This is my offering for a start…

We woke up as the sun peaked through the picture window of our cabin. Three mugs of tea and a light breakfast and we loaded into the little Rav4 headed for the mountains. It took us an hour to realize that our day was starting poorly in the best way possible.

We were rolling down the country roads of eastern Tennessee, not realizing that we were going in the wrong direction. Maybe ten minutes before we crossed the border into North Carolina, Nick looked across at Tim, “You do know where we are going right, the direction feels wrong.” “I thought was just headed this way until we crossed the main road then turned left.” Mark started laughing, “I’ll check the map. Yeah, we have gone what looks like an hour in the wrong direction.” Everybody shook their head and said, “U-turn,” in unison. It had become the theme of their trip. For three guys with amazing senses of direction and survival in the woods, they were constantly lost on roads.

How’s that for a start?

Logan

I loved it mostly because I knew it was a true story. It was how the last hiking trip Logan, Derek, and I had taken together started. I didn’t even have a chance to think about the next part before my phone was vibrating across the counter again.

Logan man,

I love it! One of the best trips ever…

Headed in the right direction, we decided it would be a good idea to turn on the GPS until we go to the trailhead; we didn’t want to end up in Florida next. It was a smart GPS weaving us out and around the population centers of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg. Another hour on the road and we pulled into the park that held the start of our hike. It was the middle of winter, so the parking lot was empty. Winter also meant the privies were all locked up, because apparently people don’t need bathrooms when it’s cold. We jumped out of the Rav and run into the woods. We reconvened at the car, pulled our packs out of the back and crossed the parking lot.

The trailhead was before us and looked clear. Apparently no show had fallen here yet. Nick, the religious one, said a little prayer for us and we started walking. Nick was the only one that had ever been on this track before, and he did a lousy job warning about what was to come. It was all uphill, no flats, no switch backs, no natural places to stop and take a break, just up.

Your turn, Nate. I’m going to be in a tech meeting for the rest of the day. I look forward to seeing how this ends. 😉

Out,

Derek

I loved that trip as much, if not more, than those two did. Before I started writing, I had to grab my phone and thumb through the pictures to relive that weekend. We had laughed a lot. It’s where our friendship moved from being guys that worked together to being friends. I knew on that trip I would take a bullet for them and not regret it.

The phone vibrated in my hand with a new email… This one from Logan.

Nate,

I’m going to have to head into a meeting that will wrap up my day as well. I wanted to add a bit more before I take off. It’ll be up to you to decide how this epic ends.

Headed in the right direction, we decided it would be a good idea to turn on the GPS until we go to the trailhead; we didn’t want to end up in Florida next. It was smart GPS weaving us out and around the population centers of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg. Another hour on the road and we pulled into the park that held the start of our hike. It was the middle of winter, so the parking lot was empty. Winter also meant the privies were all locked up, because apparently people don’t need bathrooms when it’s cold. We jumped out of the Rav and run into the woods. We reconvened at the car, pulled our packs out of the back and crossed the parking lot.

The trail head was before us and looked clear. Apparently no show had fallen here yet. Nick, the religious one, said a little prayer for us and we started walking. Nick was the only one that had ever been on this track before, and he did a lousy job warning about what was to come. It was all uphill, no flats, no switch backs, no natural places to stop and take a break, just up.

When we left the parking lot, we thought we had the mountain to ourselves. Little did we know that we were sharing the slope with a troll, not a real troll, but an unpleasant hiker. We rounded a bend when Tim and Mark stepped almost ran headlong into Troll. They greeted him warmly, and he returned their kindness with icy silence. Nick, a little behind, because he is old, got words from the Troll. “Come on through I could use the break,” said Nick. “If that’s the case then you should have found some other activity for the afternoon. Plus, I wouldn’t try this in those shoes. It gets snowy and icy up ahead,” grunted The Troll. Nick nodded as he passed the man and responded, “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” Then Nick looked up at his friends and smiled and gave that look that says, “I believe that guy needs to switch toilet papers.” The Troll was decked out in all the latest gear and was all marching along with the stuff we purchased on sale a few years ago. We guessed our clothes didn’t convey that between us we had summited three dozen mountains (the majority belonged to Nick), most of them in the Colorado Rockies.

The next two miles were uneventful climbing until we heard something large come crashing through the woods towards us. We paused and prepared ourselves for the onslaught of whatever was coming. Then out of the woods stumbled a herd of old people, laughing and giggling. There were six or eight of them. The color was gone from their hair and they from the wrinkles that filled their faces collagen gave out years ago. It was apparent that they had spent most of their lives smiling. The last to make their way out of the bush was a couple. When the husband spotted us he smiled and looked at his wife, “stop throwing snowballs at me, and toss some at them.” She retorted, “I don’t know them.” The couple continued to bicker over the direction they would go, and the geriatric flock moved on down the mountain. We stood there grinning and laughing over the what just happened. Tim asked, “Did they just come out of the woods.?” Footprints thinned out and we really had the mountain to ourselves. It had finally leveled off for the last mile to vista we headed for.

Nate have fun finishing the story. Curious where you’ll chose to end things.

Logan

I really didn’t know how or where to finish the story. I made another cup of tea and sat down for a while. The cars passed on the street below. I stood up and paced around for a while, then I finally sat down in front of my laptop to finish the story I kind of started.

Here’s the ending…

The trail head was before us and looked clear. Apparently no show had fallen here yet. Nick, the religious one, said a little prayer for us and we started walking. Nick was the only one that had ever been on this track before, and he did a lousy job warning about what was to come. It was all uphill, no flats, no switch backs, no natural places to stop and take a break, just up.

It’s true, Tim and Mark haven’t hiked as many mountains as Nick, but they are far faster than he is. They had reached the over look tower and were pulling out their dinner when Nick finally arrived at the summit. “Let’s go into the tower and get out of the wind before we start cooking,” Nick suggested. Tim and Mark nodded in agreement. They all climbed the handful of stairs into the old tower. The CCC built the tower on a cliff edge, overlooking a deep valley by in the 1930s as a fire watch. Now it gave the determined a rewarding view down over the surrounding Smokies. The trio sat down on the floor, pulled food from their packs, and shared a hikers feast.

They knew the effort had forged a friendship as deep as the valley.

It felt like the right place to end. It get’s a bit sappy, it’s probably just the pain I am in from this weekend. You two want to get dinner tonight and plan our next adventure?

Cheers,

Nate

November 25, 2020November 25, 2020

An Awkward Thanksgiving… Wednesday

Tonight is our last sleep before Thanksgiving. Today I don’t want to spend a lot of time on my words. There is a Psalm that I read at the summit of the mountains I climb and now and again when I just need reminded of how good I really have it. I invite you to sit down in a comfortable spot. Take a few deep breaths and read these words over and over until it feels like you are breathing them. Then sit for a while and be.

A Thanksgiving Psalm

100

1-2 On your feet now—applaud God!
Bring a gift of laughter,
sing yourselves into his presence.

3 Know this: God is God, and God, God.
He made us; we didn’t make him.
We’re his people, his well-tended sheep.

4 Enter with the password: “Thank you!”
Make yourselves at home, talking praise.
Thank him. Worship him.

5 For God is sheer beauty,
all-generous in love,
loyal always and ever.

Rest well in the goodness of God!

November 24, 2020November 24, 2020

An Awkward Thanksgiving… Tuesday

Where are you God? In 2020, it’s an easy question for us to ask. A pandemic, racial tension unseen for decades, political unrest, and simple frustration with humanity. Unprecedented, we want normalcy, unlike anything we have seen before, words and phrases that have changed the way we talk about everyday life.

We feel abandoned. We feel lost and we aren’t sure exactly what to do. Our feelings may seem new and solely ours, but we are not the first to feel forgot. The Bible demonstrates the process of grace, rejection, exile, and finally restoration again.

Psalm 89 is a prayer given to the people of Israel. It’s there to remind the people of the faithfulness of God, even when He seems distant.

The 89th Psalm consists of four parts. First is the grace—the poet sings of the rule of God. They write of the greatness and wonder of the Kingdom. Then Ethan (the named creator of the work) reminds the reader of the promise God has made to Israel through the line of David. As the second movement in the Psalm closes, he reminds Israel of their rejection of God. Lament frames the third portion. He mourns the exile that awaits the nation of Israel. He weeps over the trials they face. This poem ends with the author returning to the beginning — “Praise be to the Lord forever! Amen and Amen.”

Some scholars think these words were penned after the nation of Israel had been in exile. The Psalm remembers and reminds them of the pain they endured and the restored hope during their wandering.

Though no one has driven us from our homeland, we feel the sense of loss that Israel understood. As we enter Thanksgiving, we feel all is lost. I remind you; is not. There is still beauty. The God of the first movement is still the God watching over our hurting world. He is still the God of love with His arms open, ready to receive back his people.

When we pause on Thursday to celebrate this awkward Thanksgiving, remember that it is only for a time. Exile isn’t forever—it is only a small piece of the cycle.

November 23, 2020

An Awkward Thanksgiving… Monday

What do you do when it’s all different? How do you celebrate when fear reigns? How can we remember when traditions have to set aside for a year? What if this is the last time we all get to be together?

These are only a few of the questions we are wrestling with as we start this awkward Thanksgiving week. Officials are telling us not to travel, shamers are berating anyone even entertaining visiting family this holiday. It’s a great heaping mass of confusion. 2020 robs us of the one day a year we seem to say, as one, “Let’s be thankful,” right?

I don’t think so. In 1621, a group of Puritans celebrated one of the first Thanksgivings (there is a debate on the actual “first”). They celebrated because they had survived the harsh, dark, New England winter and had found a bountiful harvest. Everything was new for those first celebrators. Some would never see family or friends from the old world ever again. Many didn’t survive that first winter and weren’t there for the celebration. We shattered friendships and broke the trust with the indigenous First Nations People.

Those early celebrations had everything right and wrong. They had reasons to be grateful and reasons to mourn. They focused on the goodness—at least for a while.

In 2020 we may be closer to those first celebrations than any Thanksgiving in the intervening years. Our sense of loss and the distance from loved one’s weigh us down. We, the people, can become overwhelmed by the grayness that surrounds us or we can rise and fight to see the light of day. We can wrestle out the things we are thankful for in this year.

Thanksgiving is practice. It is more than a day of gluttony. It is the way we wake up. It is the way we see the day. It is the hope we cling to—that things can be better.

This year, togetherness is limited, but distance does not limit the gratitude we can carry for each other. Paul wrote to the church in Corinth a prayer we can echo today, “I always thank God for you because of his grace given you in Christ Jesus (1 Corinthians 1:4).”

It may be an awkward Thanksgiving, but you can still pray thanksgiving over the family and friends in your life. You can still call and write and let them know you love and cherish them. This is a good chance to practice the habit of gratitude.

November 20, 2020November 20, 2020

The Questions You Asked Series… Q6

This question is part of a series, The Questions You Ask. I mean the responses to be short. If there is something you would like me to go more in depth on, please let me know.

How can somebody overcome crippling loneliness, despite having plenty of friends?

I saved this question for last, because it is the hardest to answer briefly and maybe the most important question asked during this season in human history. I got input from friends in the world of counseling.

First, we need to garner some understanding of where this pain comes from. There are multiple roots, but here are some questions to consider in self-examination.

Are you battling anxiety or depression?
Have you faced a trauma you have shoved down and leaves you feeling disassociated from loved ones?
Do you have friends you feel you can be gut level honest with?
Do you see yourself as someone worth knowing?

How do we respond to this pain? You may need to find some professional help, especially in the first two cases (I can point you in the right direction if you need to talk to someone). Beyond that, feelings of isolation and loneliness come from a negative place. God made us to live in a community. You need to change the story you are telling yourself. Start speaking and writing the things you are thankful for, look for ways to serve other people. Look at your thought patterns, are you living in the negative how can you interrupt that flow of self-talk. Lean more into developing a relationship with God who provides the highest value for you.

I went a little over the word count, but it needed to happen. I end with this quote from Mother Teresa, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”