Hidden Lake

 One July 4th weekend during my 13th year, my family of nine took an overnight hike to a place called Hidden Lake. It was the first time I had done an overnight hike. Carrying a backpack filled with overnight provisions was going to be something novel for sure.

The morning started out well. We had spent the night in our little trailer in the parking lot of the trail head. It was a lovely, sunny morning as we started down the open trail. The warming meadow smelled fresh of pine and flowers. The only immediate down-side was the throng of mosquitoes following us. The mosquitoes didn't like the direct sunlight, but they were mighty hungry in the shade.

The flat trail very soon turned all uphill. That warming morning sun soon became like unto an oven. It overwhelmed my unconditioned body. I was not accustomed to this type of physical exertion. The sunlight was hot but the shade was also tortureous with the freshly hatched mosquitoes. There was nowhere to rest. My mom was feeling much the same as me. We were both dragging. At one point of the hike, I looked behind me to find her legs stretched across the trail. She had laid down in the trees, but not for long. Just as I noticed her missing, she was back up, swatting at the mosquitoes like a frustrated woman. It was a moment that put a smile on my face, if only for 30 seconds.

My pack felt so heavy. My muscles were tired. I was sweating and just wanted to stop. No matter what we did, rest or hike, it was miserable. That's about when my older brothers, Steve and Eric, who were restless with our snail pace, asked for permission to forge ahead to the lake. Adding insult to injury, I watched my younger siblings skip off with them. Why they were doing better than me was frustrating.

Along the trail I trudged, begrudgingly, quietly in my thoughts. I wished I had never agreed to this. I wondered whose bright idea this was because it certainly wasn't me and it certainly wasn't fun! I knew it was probably Susan's idea, my older sister, who was desperately trying to distract me with singing. Her enthusiasm was not received in kind. Couldn't she see I couldn't breathe with this blasted pack on my back? I was certain I would not be smiling again until we were home, sometime late tomorrow. This hike was bound to go down in the annuals of history as the worst time of my life.

Suddenly, voices ahead caught my attention. Were there other hikers on this trail heading back to their homes? "Please don't let there be a teenage boy!" I prayed.

Looking ahead to the crest of the hill, two shadowy figures came into focus. Surprisingly, Steve and Eric had returned with big smiles, encouraging words, and empty backs. They had found our destination and it wasn't far away. Steve stopped in front of Mom and removed her backpack. "Appropriate," I thought, longingly. Then, to my surprise, Eric stopped in front of me. "Can I take that for you?" he asked.

I turned sideways to give him access to help me remove my backpack. As he lifted the misery off of my shoulders, I stopped an audible sob. I was on the cusps of being a teenager and knew I was too old to cry like I wanted to. Eric doned the pack effortlessly as quiet tears cascaded down my dusty cheeks. I felt love for him and I felt loved. I was seen. I was relieved!

We continued on our journey, moods lifted, and found Hidden Lake beautifully secluded and equally infested with mosquitoes. There was no sitting around the campfire after dinner. Instead, we crowded inside a small, green, 3-man tent. Safely out of reach of mosquitoes, the 9 of us laughed and told stories late into the night. We made beautiful memories that have lasted my entire lifetime.

The hike out the next day was much easier and I was able to carry my own pack down the mountain. As I walked, I reflected on the actions of my brothers. Particularly, my own personal experience with Eric and the immediate relief I felt of a very weighty burden. "That must be what repentance feels like." My love and respect for Jesus Christ multiplied by understanding. He has paid the price for sin. When I ask, He takes regret from my weighed down soul and I am free again.