Holding onto The Rock

 

“I can fix most things, but I can’t fix a broken heart.”

 Those words are etched into my memory, written as the Facebook status of my close friend – an extraordinary carpenter and private contractor who is also the strongest, toughest, guy I know. His feats of super human strength are stuff of legend amongst our circle, including a time where he lifted a 650cc motorcycle into the back of his van with his bare hands, and another time where he snared (with one hand) a rope that was holding me an instant before I plummeted 400 feet towards the ground – close to 200 pounds of person + gear + momentum.


Unfortunately, the frailty of the human heart goes beyond physical strength and toughness. And, when those we are close to are hurting, we feel their pain as well. It’s interesting how, in all the years of human civilization, there has been a cure for many things. But the cure for a broken heart has been ever so elusive.

Some time ago, in one of my darkest hours, this same friend came to my house at midnight and dragged me out to the New River Gorge for some therapeutic rock climbing. This past weekend, it was climbing therapy part deux. The two of us, a third kindred spirit, and a fourth friend got in my 2000 Chevy Tahoe, and headed out to West Virginia. In our varying stages of brokeness, we listened to country music, ate Chick-Fil-A, told stories, and generally forgot about life as we took the 5+ hour ride to our prescribed rock. That is, until we saw some flashing lights behind us.

Ryan: "Shoot. Cop."
Me: "Maybe I can play the Veteran’s card. You know, since it's Veteran's Day and all."

(short wait as the police officer walks up)

Officer Un-American: "License and registration."
Me: "Any chance you can give me a break? I’m a Veteran…"
Officer Un-American: "Any chance you can not speed on my highway?"(spits tobacco)

I guess my shaggy hair precluded any notion that I could have possibly been a member of the armed forces.

Despite the short delay, the trip was a success. 2 solid days of clinging precariously onto small crimps and cracks in the wall was the respite we all were seeking. Although the troubles of the world still existed, the focus we had on climbing made everything else bearable. The rock we hung from and scaled was our salvation - it’s as if the analogy of a wise, ancient man was echoing in the still beauty of the wilderness that surrounded us. Later, as we made our way back to civilization, I knew that the relief that we felt was dissipating as we drifted further from the rock walls we were climbing.

In the frenzied pace of a busy job site, concerned clients, or a 5th grade classroom, it is hard to remember the peace that is delivered by the One that can fix anything, even a broken heart.

Many moons ago, when Ryan came by to convince me that a climbing trip was what my heart needed, the journey seemed incredibly long. However, it was only short drive away, made even shorter by the friends around me and the rock I would soon look up at. My healing would begin that day. I just had to choose to take that ride.