Mountain
Refresher Course
That I may
come unto you with joy
by the
will of God,
and may
with you be refreshed.
--
Romans 15:32
She was beat down and burnt out by
on-the-job stress. Meetings were tense, overtime was killing her, and she was
even having bad dreams. She wanted to quit.
Time for a little much-needed time
off. But her husband's company had sold its condo in a picturesque Colorado
town, so they couldn't go there for the first time in more than 20 years. Then
a friend said, out of the blue, that she felt strongly that God wanted her to
go to the mountains again, anyway. She emailed a bed and breakfast in that town,
and set up an autumn respite.
The first snowfall
came the day before they arrived. It was textbook Colorado: crisp, sunny,
gorgeous. They went to their favorite charming little church, happy to be
10,000 feet closer to God.
Though the
pine trees were hung with icicles, it was warm out. They played 18 holes of
disc golf every day, and hiked on scenic trails intoxicated by the scent of the
pines, overlooking a deep blue lake laden with sailboats, ringed by
snow-covered peaks.
They got swimsuits
on clearance, and had the hot tub to themselves every night, soaking their
tired muscles, chatting and reconnecting. They made a pact not to talk about
her job. Gradually, like a hot pack soothing a wound, her stress was lifted up
and out.
Then, one
evening, they were strolling down the town's main street, deciding where to go
for dinner, when her husband grinned: "Well, you never know who you're
gonna see. . . ."
Her jaw
dropped. It was one of her co-workers, with his girlfriend. They blurted
simultaneously: "What are YOU doing here?"
Turns out
they had only chosen that town because he had hitchhiked through there once,
and liked it. But she didn't. She seemed distant and distracted, depressed and
discouraged, her skin as gray as her mood. She was tattooed and had her nose
pierced. Both were smoking cigarettes. Every other word from his mouth was
"f___king." They were as different from the middle-agers as night and day.
The younger
couple asked where they could eat cheap. They had only Corn Nuts for dinner the
night before.
As the
older couple suggested a few places, the younger one opened up. The girl's
mother had died six days before, of pancreatic cancer. She was 54, the same age
as my friend. The girl didn't get along with her father, but adored her mother.
As the only child, she had taken a leave from her job to care for her mom. It
was a painful, sleepless, awful three months.
They parted
ways. My friend burned inside. "We need
to treat them to dinner!" They whirled around, and shouted the invitation.
The young couple eagerly agreed.
They got
the best table in an Italian restaurant. They ordered special drinks and big
meals, topping it off with crème brulee and chocolate torte.
Before
their eyes, the girl transformed from an empty, exhausted Goth into a pretty,
animated, smiling young woman. She showed them her mother's senior picture on
her cell phone. They asked the waitress to take a picture of the four of them
together to show the co-workers back home. The girl slipped her arm around my
friend's waist, relating to this nice stranger who happened to be the same age
as her mom.
As they
parted, they hugged tightly. My friends promised to pray for them. They walked
away, with tummies full . . . and hearts revived.
A "chance"
encounter?
Come on,
now. What do you think?
All my
friend felt was joy. She can go back down to that valley now, to that stressful
workplace . . . renewed, refreshed and reminded what her real "work" is. She
knows she's in the right place at the right time. She's needed. She can hang in
there, even if it's hard, because there's a purpose to her work that goes far
beyond the daily grind.
That's the
thing about mountains: they lift you up high . . . so you can truly see. †
