It Started Out Perfect

Our daughter Ally, her daughter Alicia, age 4, and I were hiking in Arches National Park. It was one of those perfect spring days in the desert. Not too hot yet, not too cold, the brilliant blue sky a gorgeous contrast to the red sandstone rock. Ally was a bit ahead of Alicia and me, and we were all on the established route, crossing a wide arcing bowl of slick rock.

At first, I didn’t notice the lone hiker, high above us, scrambling across a field of loose rocks and coming the other direction. Then he slipped and set off a small rock slide, just a few little rocks rolled down the slope and came to rest not far from us. He stopped. I stopped. We looked at each other. I thought we had a moment of understanding and that he now realized the danger he was creating and would backtrack away from the trail and the people below him.

Moments later, I heard a crashing rumble and glanced up to see several large boulders rolling and tumbling down the hill, gaining speed, bouncing straight towards us. Alicia was just ahead of me, Ally too far away to reach her in time. I lunged and threw my body, hunching over Alica, my back arched towards the speeding rocks. The rocks rained down all around us, but miraculously none of them struck us.

I rolled over into a seated position and pulled Alicia into my arms. My hands and knees were scraped and bloody, but she was safe. A group of hikers across the bowl started to clap and cheer, offering band aids, ointment, and praise. I was shaken, heart pounding, adrenaline still rushing through my body, grateful to have been able to embrace and protect my little granddaughter in a time of need.

Usually, protecting our children, or grandchildren, from physical harm has seemed simpler than protecting them from other dangers in the world, like bullies, lies, prejudice, unkind words, betrayals, etc. Today, as we navigate this uncharted pandemic, nothing seems very simple anymore as we face complex choices about health and safety in the midst of much uncertainty about short- and long-term consequences.

Resiliency, the ability to face and learn from our challenges, has never been more important.  Our children look to us to protect them from dangers beyond their understanding and experience, but we are all learning and stretching right now. What I am sure about is we will come through these challenging times better and stronger if we are open with each other and use these extraordinary world events to model for our children how to make wise, informed choices and balance conflicting needs and desire. For example, little decisions about how and when and where to shop or recreate give us opportunities to discuss how we balance the freedom to choose to do what we want right now and the responsibility to consider the potential impact of our choices on our current and future health as well as the safety and well-being of others, especially those more vulnerable than ourselves. Our children need to know they can count on us to hold steady and calm and work together as we face challenges beyond what any of us can face alone.

Happy Failing Forward,

Anne and Calvert