There are moments in life when we find ourselves at the edge of a precipice; a point of no return. The next decision, the very next step will start us on our way. With hearts pounding in our breast, palms sweaty, and adrenaline flowing, the excitement is ever heightened. There is nothing to do but hold on tight and enjoy the ride.
When Spencer was 5, we took a family vacation to Disneyland. He begged me to take him on Thunder Mountain, the run-away mining train. I warned him that it would be scary, but that only encouraged him more. We got in line and waited in anticipation for nearly ½ hour before we reached the front. The next train was ours. We settled into our seats, secured the safety device, and began our ascent up the first mountain. Spencer turned to me and said, “Dad, I don’t think I want to do this”. We had reached that point of no return. We had passed the jumping off point. I wrapped my arm around him tightly, told him to close his eyes, and quite simply, “enjoy the ride”.
One of my favorite flower gardens to visit anywhere, is on the slopes of Mt. Timpanogos
When I was 18, I decided to hike to the top of Mount Timpanogos. I arose at 5:00am, drove to Aspen Groves and started along the trail during the early dawn hours on a crisp and cool September morning. The hike was spectacular and the view from the top breathtaking. Our plan was to slide down the glacier at the top instead of hiking back down the trail. Sounds easy enough at first. But at the top of the glacier on the ridgeline of the mountain was a cornice of snow that formed by the gusting winds as they blew over the mountaintop. A notch was cut through the cornice allowing access to a track worn into the surface of the glacier by the rear-ends of countless hikers before us. Several concerns immediately came to mind as I gazed down at this groove of terror: a vertical drop of about 6 feet, no way of getting out of the track and stopping should I desire to do so, and obvious rocks along the track that could not be avoided. If I indeed pushed off out of the gap in the cornice and dropped 6 feet, the speed I would begin with added to the slope of the glacier and the well-worn and polished ice—I would be travelling at a rapid clip. If I used my hands to slow myself, I was sure they would be cut by the snow and ice on the glacier surface. I was at a great jumping off point. My heart pounded within my chest. It was a point of no return decision. The ride was not smooth and painless. I hurt when it was over, but oh the exhilaration of reaching Emerald Lake at the bottom. It was truly one of the most exciting moments of my life.
The glacier is mostly extinct these days, but back in the 1970s it looked like this. This is an image taken during that epic ride in 1976. Just right of center at the top of the ice field, one can see the break in the cornice where we dropped into the slide.
I contemplate what it must have been like 68 years ago, as I looked down from the realm of spirits and gazed upon the earth as I prepared to come into this world. Did I marvel at the beauty of this rich and diverse garden Heavenly Father had prepared? Was I given instructions on how to survive? Did I watch great spirits depart before me and begin their adventure? Did I see my track carved in the passage of time, and did it have bumps and rocks along the way that I would have to navigate? As I stepped up to the jumping off point did my spirit heart race within my spirit breast? Did I turn and look back upon the lovely spirit form of Virginia and the spirits of our children? Did I wish them good luck, and did they whisper, “Don’t blow it Dad, we’ll be right behind you”. What was it like, that great moment at the point of no return? I said my last goodbye, turned and faced my challenge, and came screaming through the birth canal. And here I am, sliding along the path we call life. Is it a smooth and painless ride? Most certainly not.
Jumping off point? I’m ain’t afraid of no jumping off point!
It’s hard to evaluate the course my life has taken from my current vantage point racing along at breakneck speed. I’m almost afraid to look back along the course for fear that in so doing I’ll miss a curve or hit a bump unprepared. Lately I have reflected on what has transpired over the past 68 years. I’m amazed that I’m still moving. Some of my biggest and most painful encounters have come upon me totally unexpected. When I was young, my mother began having trouble in her track. She collided head-on with the rock of depression, quickly followed by a boulder-strewn path of alcoholism, drug abuse, and suicide attempts. Unfortunately, in the collision, debris was scattered across the paths me and my siblings would take. And then came the wickedest crag of all. Both parents collided upon the escarpment of divorce, and once again more debris was thrown onto my track. For years, I struggled as I picked my way slowly across the wasteland before me, but as I neared the further side of that episodic period I refer to as my adolescence, I picked up hope and energy as I once more gained momentum and hurried along my way.
The tail end of the glacier where it drops into Emerald Lake. This image is from 2010.
In the years that have passed since those rough and turbulent days of youth, I have encountered further obstacles. As I consider the days I’ve toiled and sweat; days filled with self-pity, loneliness, and fear, I realize that I did not walk alone. I know that there was a presence watching over me; someone who had watched me take that leap from the jumping off point and was aware of my journey through this mortal ride called life.
One of the disadvantages we face in our mortal journey is that we cannot see what lies ahead. Whether it is because a mist obscures our vision, a sudden turn, a dip in the track or simply that we become distracted and forget to watch ahead, we are not shown the obstacles with which we may collide. We can find comfort in knowing that there is a promise given that there will never be a pile of rubble placed before us that we cannot overcome.
A view from the top of the mountain looking down on Emerald Lake. The ice field is to the right. Talk about a jumping off point…
One may ask, “Why must I endure challenges and obstacles? And must I suffer through them alone?” The Lord promised Joseph Smith, a man no stranger to adversity:
Be patient in afflictions, for thou shalt have many; but endure them, for, lo, I am with thee, even unto the end of thy days. Doctrine and Covenants 24:8
The ice field is in the back center as seen in 2009.
My closing thought comes from Elder Dieter Uchtdorf, President of the Quorum of Twelve Apostles:
My dear brothers and sisters, my dear young friends, when the captain of a long-range jet passes the point of safe return, and the headwinds are too strong or the cruising altitudes too low, he might be forced to divert to an airport other than his planned destination. This is not so in our journey through life back to our heavenly home. Wherever you find yourselves on this journey through life, whatever trials you may face, there is always a point of safe return; there is always hope. You are the captain of your life, and God has prepared a plan to bring you safely back to Him, to your divine destination.
And so we find ourselves on the brink of another jumping off point. It is not a point of no return. It will be a long and leisurely journey to a land far away. I’ll be writing about it in the weeks and months ahead. Safe travels everyone this summer.