The First Mountain to Climb

July 26, 2017

Sometimes, you get to go on your big adventure but you have to say goodbye to your first house before you can leave—the  house that taught you what an ESCROW is and gave your third baby a place to come home to. It’s the house that kept you safe during thunderstorms and showed you all of the ways to not make a garden grow. It’s the one that let you have dance parties on its carpet and bonfires in its backyard with some of the best friends you’ve ever had. 


You cry a lot.


Then you drive to the most beautiful cabin in the most beautiful spot in Island Park—and spend the first night of your adventure sitting in throw-up as you wait for the water heater to turn on so you can give yourself and your baby a bath.


And then you spend day number two and day number three doing the same thing as each of your three babies takes a turn being sick through the night. And then on day number four, you cry some more.


You think about your first little house and your first big adventure, and suddenly you’re six years old again and you’re walking into your first day of kindergarten, and you kinda just want your mom.   


And then you’re reminded of that one time that Heavenly Father told you “…that great things await you” (Doctrine & Covenants 45:62) and you realize that you don’t want a few sleepless nights and lots of bodily fluids to be the thing that keeps you from touching the tallest tree in the world and having an Island of the Blue Dolphins experience with a wild otter.


So you do about 1,435,786 loads of laundry and put on your recently-washed big girl pants. And then you start driving to Glacier National Park, just like you planned, with a prayer in your heart and a smile on your face because you realize that you just climbed your first mountain, and you ain’t even to the Rockies yet.


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