Songs in My Head by Post JoAnn;

Author:Post, JoAnn; [Post, JoAnn A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781498208086
Publisher: Wipf and Stock Publishers
Published: 2015-09-28T07:00:00+00:00

Verse 6

False Summit

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

6:45 a.m.

I spent the summer of 1982 at Holden Village, a Lutheran retreat center in the Cascade Mountains. It was my task as the registrar’s assistant to greet each new group of guests as their bus rounded the last bend into the Village. Swinging on to the school bus wearing my summer “uniform” of flannel shirt, jeans, and hiking boots, I fairly sang, “Hi, I’m Jo Post! Welcome to Holden!”

Every day off, we went hiking and climbing in the Cascades. One hot afternoon four of us set off for a distant peak with twenty-pound packs on our backs and the promise of leaping into a secluded mountain lake as our reward. I was a little daunted by the prospect of the hike, since the highest peak where I’m from is the town’s water tower. But my companions said, “It’s nothing. This is an easy hike.”

Four hours later, sweaty, bug-bitten, thirsty, and more-than-a-little-crabby, I thought I spied the peak up ahead. We hiked another hour, then another hour. That was the day I learned about the “false summit,” the illusory mountain peak that is, in fact, only a rise, a bend in the trail. The mountaintop we pursued was still hours away, but I didn’t know that then. They also didn’t warn me about mountain lakes in June. The water was so cold that I leapt in and nearly went into cardiac arrest.

Naively, I have been imagining this sixth treatment, this “halfway through chemo” day, as an arrival of sorts, a triumph, a destination. As though it will be all downhill from here. As though, to borrow from an old joke, “I can see my house from here.” But this is really just a false summit, a tease, a wide spot on the trail before a much steeper, sturdier climb. When this cycle ends on Thursday, six more cycles remain ahead, each one harder than the last. Jim teased that by the time this is done, they will have to haul me out of the cancer center on a gurney.

So, I’ve been dreading this day. But I woke to a prayer on my Caring Bridge guestbook from Lynette, who was praying for me as I slept. The first e-mail of the day was from Janet, whose kindness is calm and deep. My sister Mary is here to take care of me. I spoke with brothers and sisters, my folks and Jim’s, neighbors and friends on the phone all weekend. Our friend John surprised us with supper Sunday night, and when this day ends, Candace will feed us again. Today I’ll wear the prayer bracelet my friend Irene, who is also the dogs’ favorite veterinarian, beaded for me. The support and kindness we have received on this long climb have been breathtaking, overwhelming, humbling, heart-stopping.

As you know, I always have a song in my head. This morning I woke to a Charles Wesley text:

Dark and cheerless is the morn

Unaccompanied by thee;

Joyless is the day’s return

Till thy mercy’s beams I see,

Till they inward light impart,

Glad my eyes, and warm my heart.

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