When I was in high school, I was invited to participate in a leadership training day-camp up in the mountains. It’s funny that nearly a decade-and-a-half later I specifically remember this day in great detail, but something happened at that camp that will forever burn in my memory.
There were the usual team-building activities—an obstacle course, the trust fall, etc. At this camp there was a 20-ft climbing wall up to a platform on a large tree, with a rappelling cable on the other side. About 5-7 feet from the top of this wall was a trick step. Rather than angling up for a sure foothold, this step angled down and away from the wall. It was explained to us that if one tried to place a foot on this step without throwing one’s full weight behind it, that foot would slip off the step. But if one put one’s entire weight into that step it would hold and enable us to climb the remainder of the wall. It was impossible to climb to the top without using the “faith” step.
I stood at the bottom of that wall and watched my classmates climb. Each paused when it came time to use that step. I cheered for them, “You can do it!” I pictured myself climbing the wall and taking that step. I could do it!
When it was my turn, I headed on up. Unfortunately, I am not blessed with a lot of upper-body strength, and heights are definitely not within my comfort zone. When I reached the “faith” step, I froze. I tried to talk myself into lunging over to it. I failed. After several excruciating minutes, I was unceremoniously hauled the remainder of the way up that wall by the leaders above. Of course I was embarrassed, but more than that, the significance of letting my fear prevent me from taking that step has been with me ever since.
Over the last several weeks, I have been regarding the task of letting go of the past with the same trepidation I felt on that wall. But somehow, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. I get it. He’ll come home when he’s ready. He does love me and our kids. He’s giving everything he can. He needs me to calm down, forget myself and be his friend. As counter-intuitive as that seemed before, it makes perfect sense now. All that matters is putting my full weight into the future. Our future.
