A Lesson from the Northwoods

Abiding in Hope

by

Then Jesus traveled through the surrounding villages teaching. He called for the Twelve and sent them out in pairs. He gave them authority over unclean spirits. He instructed them to take nothing for the journey except a walking stick—no bread, no bags, and no money in their belts. He told them to wear sandals but not to put on two shirts. (Mark 6:6b-9 CEB)

When I was in high school one of my friends was Julie. She was a fiery and outspoken friend, who carried such passion for the challenges that life might bring.  Although she was only 5 feet tall, people learned quickly that you didn’t mess with Julie.

So, I suppose when on a Boundary Waters' canoe trip during the summer between our junior and senior year, I wasn’t surprised when Julie wanted to portage the canoe from one lake to the next. The portage she chose was a good one, as it was only 35 rods in length (roughly about 200 meters).

A short portage was key to a successful portage, as in the 1970s there were no lightweight Kevlar canoes to be found. No, at that time, canoes were unruly beasts, constructed out of aluminum and weighing close to seventy pounds. To portage that type of canoe along any kind of trail was not for the faint of heart. However, with this portage being so short, my friend was confident she could do this. Julie was not daunted by the weight of the canoe. Nope, she had a strong determination.

So with help, the canoe was lifted over her head, the yoke was placed upon her shoulders, and she set out over the rocky trail. I remember feeling so amazed as I watched her walk up that trail. What an accomplishment on her part. I wondered if I would ever be able to portage a canoe like that (turns out that I can).

Now, in hindsight, I suppose it would have made sense for us to have looked at the contour map we were carrying. And if we had done that, maybe we would have noticed how close the contour lines were for this portage and perhaps, would have understood that although this portage was short, it was also incredibly steep. My canoeing guidebook described it in this way -- “entirely uphill and quite rocky with an especially steep stretch at the beginning.”

That description was rather an understatement. This trail was pretty much a vertical climb and if you coupled this with a rock-pitted path and thousands of hungry mosquitoes -- well it was pure misery. It was the sort of thing that could only be appreciated long after the event.

I started the portage a few minutes behind my friend, carrying gear and wearing packs and yes, it was a strenuous trail. By the time I made it to the top of the ridge, I was panting and gasping for air. I was relieved to see that at the top, the trail finally flattened out a bit. Following it and rounding a bend, I came upon a canoe lying in the middle of the trail. Julie’s canoe. Thinking that she must have given up and headed down the portage to get help, I walked up and gave the canoe a kick and said “you’re in the middle of where I need to go.”

That was when I heard it – this small, muffled voice that simply said “get it off of me.”  With the path too steep and the burden too great, Julie had simply folded under the heavy weight of the canoe and had sunk to the ground with the canoe on top of her.

Now isn’t that an apt image when we consider our messy and complicated lives.

Sometimes the burden does seem too great, the path does seem too hard, and sometimes all we can do is buckle under the weight of it all. Sometimes the disappointments and disillusionments are too much. Sometimes the events happening in the world are too painful. Sometimes the grief just overwhelms. Sometimes things just don’t go the way we had hoped they would. In all of these, sinking under a canoe might seem like a pretty good option -- an option that I am certainly familiar with.

However, I do know in those times when things become so tough and life is such a struggle, that rather than sinking under a canoe, I need to ask for help. I need others to come around me and support me. However, I find that asking for this can be difficult, because I want to believe that I can manage and cope all by myself.

I find this to be a rather ironic and sad truth. I can be great at offering help to others, but balk when the roles reverse and someone is trying to offer their help to me. I believe this is a common struggle for pastors. We are expected to be helping of others, but when it comes to ourselves, we struggle with being able to accept help.

I have often wondered why that is. What is the message we are we telling ourselves that prevents us from being open to another’s help? Why is accepting help so uncomfortable? Why is it so difficult to show our vulnerability and need?

For me, I am trying to live more completely into the understanding that I need others. That I need to be giving of care, but also accepting of it. I need to be supportive, but also accept support. That I need to be able to be vulnerable enough and realize that I can’t do it on my own. Life is just too rock-pitted to do it by yourself.  

Jesus understood this. When he sent his disciples out in mission, he sent them in pairs. He knew that they would need to be a support for each other to weather through the difficulties they would face.

For my friend Julie, at that point of time, she needed my help. She couldn’t do it on her own. I lifted the canoe off and together, one of each end, we carried the canoe along the rocky path down to the shore of the next lake. Together, we went back for the gear I had been carrying and brought that down too.

Loving and supporting each other enabled us to make it through.

The Rev. Nan Smith is a retired clergy member of the Iowa Annual Conference. This post is republished with permission from the "Abiding: From Exile to Hope" spiritual care series of the Iowa Annual Conference. Subscribe.