Simba

I wish I had profound thoughts when I climb mountains. It would be a fabulous time to figure out the mystery of the universe, instead I'm trying to breathe
and not whine about how the trail is all up. Whose stinking idea was it to make the entire trail straight up?

Or I sing the song from the cheesy Christmas show when Santa teaches the Abominable Snowman to walk, "You just put one foot in front of the other and soon you'll be walking along." I don't know any other words so I just sing that over and over in my head. I'm not sure I remember anything else from that movie either.

We had a great climb the other day and I realized that I will need to start enjoying time by myself because my entire family hikes faster than me now. There was one part of the trail where I caught up and there might have been some whining and weary legs, which is always an invitation to share the story of climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro.

It's been almost seventeen years, but the memories of the final ascent to the peak are vivid. They wake you up at midnight and then you walk switchbacks in scree for the next seven to eight hours. You can't see anything except the bobbing lights of other fools zigzagging up the mountain. I sat down and refused to go any further. I do have a stubborn streak in me. I was done.

Our guide gave me a moment and then told me what he has probably told nine million people, "You are simba; you are strong." (Simba is Swahili for lion and rafiki is Swahili for friend, in case you missed the Lion King footnotes). I believe I  roared and kept going until I sat down and he reminded me again. "You are simba."

We made it to the top and could barely see our hands in front of our faces the snow was so intense. My favorite part is that we took a picture sitting on the sign that said we are at the highest point in Africa so it just looks like us in a typical snowstorm in every place we've ever lived. It kind of stunk, but what a fabulous life lesson.

I pushed every baby into this world with our guide's words in my ears. Every time I have wanted to curl up and quit because something was too hard, I hear him reminding me "I am simba." And there are times when grief or pain seem so tremendous that I feel like I'm in the dark watching the lights zigzag up the endless slope.

I suppose that was some solace last week as I listened to reports from Charleston, family medical stuff, memories of lives lost way too soon. All of that sorrow of life collecting in a moment and swallowing one into darkness makes it easy to sit down and refuse to keep going. Except for the bobbing lights and the simba reminder. I kind of love the whole simba thing not only because I like being a lion, but for the fabulous baptismal moment in Lion King when Simba looks into the pool of water and hears his father say, "Remember who you are."

And I try when I am tired or overwhelmed to remember who I am and just "put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walking along". . . That song always gets stuck in my head.