Pilchuck-Dad's Half of the Story

There it was, in front of me, the mountain. Standing next to me, I heard the husky, emotion-laden voice of my 14 year old son. “Don, do you know when my dad promised me he would climb this with me? When he was in the hospital. Now we get to do it.” With that, I began keeping a promise made to Nic several years prior to this date.

This story begins a few years before the climb. My wife and I had sensed that our youngest son was in a struggle for his life. We recognized symptoms of failure and discouragement, and sometimes felt helpless to stop the downhill slide. Then Don Gray invited him to go with his Sunday School class on a hiking trip. When Nic came home, we had a son excited about something in life for the first time. This was not the ordinary emotions of “it could be fun”, but more of the “YES” variety. I then told him that with the next hike, I wanted to go with him. That time almost never came. A moment of inattentive watching of where to put my foot caused a fall, and the ensuing struggles of surgery and recovery. Once, while lying in the hospital, I promised him that regardless of what it took, I would climb a mountain with him. Both of us needed this challenge-me for motivation to push myself physically to get past the limits being imposed upon me, and he needed it to affirm that dad did care about his world.

Mt. Pilchuck is hardly imposing compared to the other mountains in the Cascade Range. While quite accessible for day hiking, it seemed impossible for my body to conquer. That day, when Nic stated that today was the day for he and dad to climb together, his emotions overwhelmed him. It also affected me, for this was the time that 2 ½ years of physical therapy (3 times a week) had specifically been preparing me for.

As we started climbing, it did not take long for our group to discover a laggard among us—me. I needed more than twice the amount of rests and stops than any others, including the kids. Very quickly after beginning, the back and neck spasms started. However, as quickly as I slowed due to the physical limits, I also noticed that Nic adjusted his tempo to accommodate the speed I was proceeding at. It was his choice to stay near his dad even though he could have easily run ahead. He was not necessarily beside me the entire trip, but behind, in front, and beside me; but always within eyesight of his dad. Clearly, it was his choice to stay near his father.

This was my first of several spiritual lessons that God taught me on this climb. First, it was Nic’s choice to

remain with close distance to his father. I could not have demanded it. God began teaching me about

how important it was to remain within his reach--not run ahead as my normal proceedure had been. I

need to be near my Father--my responsibility to maintain.

By the time this hike occurred Nic had already been up Pilchuck several times, and had become familiar with the terrain. One of the first things I noticed was that my son was a helper to other hikers along the trail. He often pointed out trail markings,different rest areas, and particularly beautiful views. My focus became the privilege of watching my son in places I had only seen pictures of, not of the physical pain my body was screaming. For the first time in his life, I got to see how much he loved being outdoors and what his climbing meant to him. By watching him, I discovered how much of a man he was becoming—and I loved it.

Lesson number two: God’s focus is always on where his children are. He designed us for his fellowship

and companionship. He loves observing his children and talking with them during the journey.

Because of my being in my son’s world, I began to understand what it was like for God to enter our

world. The pain necessary for God to accomplish this was never the focal point for him. Rather, the cost

of the pain he deemed critical for any fellowship between God and man to happen. In a similar manner as

God entered our world, I entered my son’s world and loved it.

Approximately half way up during one of my many rest periods, Nic came over to where I was sitting down and made me an offer. “Dad, I know you are hurting, you tried, and it is okay. You don’t have to make it to the top. It is okay that you tried, I don’t want to see you hurting so much.” There was anguish showing on his face, for while he did not want his dad hurting, he also was attempting to conceal the disappointment of not being able to have me join him at the peak. It was easy for me to tell him that regardless of how many spasms happened or how many rest stops were needed, I was going to keep my promise and join him at the top. Instead of feet dragging and head down, he bounded anew with energy and determination to help me get there. He now knew I would keep my promise.

How many times have I run to God in prayer and begged for a different path, claiming that there had to

be an easier way, or that he had a wrong time or wrong manner to accomplish things? How many times

have I forgotten that when God makes a promise, we can rely on it? More commonly, how many times

have I discounted God’s ability to keep his promise to me because of circumstances that were seemingly

far too difficult? “The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made. The Lord

upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down.” Psalms 145:13b-14 I had fallen, and Nic

needed lifting up. God kept his promise to both of us.

The last few feet are vertical and difficult. That close to the top, and yet, it seemed almost insurmountable. He coached me up the steps, and together we stood on the peak. To one side was a sheer drop-off and to the other, the valley below with our hometown. Nic looked at me, gave me an excited high-five with “WE MADE IT”! Then almost as quickly, his face clouded and tears for both of us began and he uttered one word, “thanks”. We embraced and wept together. When you are fourteen, hugging your dad in public is socially taboo. Yet for me, having my son say one word of thanks and show the overflow of emotion did not compare to even one ounce of the pain it cost to keep a promise to him.

The most incredible spiritual application came when I heard Nic say “thanks”. No word was ever more

beautiful, for it expressed words from his heart. He was not ashamed to tell dad thanks in this place

where hikers rejoiced at their accomplishments—and there were a bunch of hikers present. I understood

in part (small part) how God feels when we come to him in total gratitude saying thank you for what he

has done for us. “…give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

2nd Thessalonians 5:18

It changed our relationship forever. There were a lot of hiccups and miscues on both of our parts. However, this is when the father/son relationship changed to becoming a father/son/friend treasured bond.

Today, climbing the same mountain is beyond my capacity. I would love to climb another mountain with Nic. He has mountains of his own to climb that, like Pilchuck I cannot climb. My only prayer is that he continues to rely on his Heavenly Father’s promises to climb these mountains inasmuch as he discovered that summer he was fourteen years old with his dad.