A Year-long Mountain Climb

Earlier this week, my team took a trip to the Volta Region. It's the eastern edge of Ghana right next to Togo. The Volta Region has lots of mountains and a few waterfalls. It's beautiful. Hohoe is officially my favorite city in Ghana. If I ever end up in Ghana long-term, I'll be in the Volta Region. I've enjoyed my time in Kumasi, but there's something marvelous about the quiet environment of the Volta Region and its mountains, lake, and beauty. 

One of our main objectives for our trip was to climb Mt. Afadjato, the highest mountain in Ghana.

Now, don't be overly impressed; it's only 2,904 feet. For those of you in South Dakota, Harney Peak (the highest point of the Black Hills) is 7,242 feet. Ghana's highest mountain isn't too high.
I'm not normally a mountain climber. I'm just really not an adventurous person. I may go on adventures around the world, but those who know me well wouldn't describe me as "adventurous". I think the word "pansy" is a better fit. I'm basically a weak coward who doesn't like to try new things. And I'm content. I was that Young Life leader that dreaded the giant swing and the ropes course. Those things just aren't my thing. Especially when it includes heights. I don't like being far off of the level ground; I'm not used to it. 

I have gone hiking up hills and small mountains before. And each time I went, I enjoyed myself. The end result is great. It's beautiful. The journey isn't so great, but I like the end. Always.

So when we were driving to the mountain on Tuesday, I was excited. I was nervous because I knew it would be difficult and it would be disgustingly hot, but I figured the end result would be great.

That was basically my approach to this year (or 9 months really) in Ghana: I was excited. I was so, so nervous, but I was still excited. I knew this year would be difficult, but I also knew it would be worth it. 

On previous hikes, I had a pattern. I would be energetic and encouraging. I wouldn't like the effort, but I would hang out in the back as a straggler and cheer on my fellow stragglers. That's my favorite part; I hate the climb, but I like to cheer on those who straggle and/or struggle. I like to see them do what they're afraid to do or what they doubt they can actually do. I was hoping to follow my pattern. It was going to be a great morning!

I came to Ghana wanting to be super encouraging to my teammates and to the staff and students here in Kumasi. I so badly wanted to follow that pattern of being a motivational encourager. 

I started off our climb filling my typical, self-appointed roll: straggling in the back while keeping a positive attitude. But shortly after we started, things were different. I started to feel like crap - not my normal "I hate expending this much energy on things I'm not used to" kind of crap but "I feel like I'm going to fall over and tumble down the mountain, pass out, and throw up all at the same time" kind of crap. We had barely started our climb, and I felt like I wasn't going to be able to move another 50 yards. Yikes. 

I started off at our briefing conference trying to be an encourager. I tried to be that once we came to Ghana, but I struggled. I missed my friends and my Young Life team more than I expected. I cried a lot. I felt like crap emotionally, and the year had just started. Yikes.

I figured I was just being a lame party pooper about the mountain. I mean, really, it couldn't be that bad. So I just tried to keep up with everyone else. I wanted our team to stay at the same pace. I wanted to climb Mt. Afadjato with my team; we were bonding, and we were going to do it right! But just a little further on, I realized I couldn't get what I wanted. I had no sense of balance. None. I was tripping over nothing every few steps. There was no way I could keep up with the front of the pack that was ambitiously conquering the mountain.

I felt like I was poo-pooing on my Ghana team and on Kumasi. It couldn't be that bad or that much different from home and my Young Life family. So, I just tried to keep up with everyone else. I tried to jump into knocking on doors to share the gospel and being bold with the strangers I met. I wanted to have the enthusiastic attitude my teammates had about ministry at KNUST. But during that first month, I realized I couldn't have the enthusiasm they had. I couldn't force myself to love meeting strangers. I couldn't even fake the enthusiasm they had. 

I resigned. I told them to keep on climbing and I would tackle it at my pace. I was so frustrated with myself. I didn't know why I was the one who couldn't do it. I knew I am completely nonathletic and not fit, but I figured others would struggle as much as me on this journey. I didn't want to disappoint everyone. I didn't want to be the one who ruined our plans to worship on the top of the mountain and enjoy the hike together.
I resigned. I decided this year in Ghana was going to be "the desert year". I was so frustrated with myself, with my desire to go home, with my desire to do Young Life, with my desire to build solid relationships rather than continue to meet strangers. I felt completely unfit for this job. I thought, "I was made to be a Young Life leader, not a Cru staff member. I just can't use their ministry approach well. It's not my personality." Now, others on my team did struggle with the transition and meeting strangers as well, but they didn't appear to struggle as much as I did. I didn't want to disappoint them. I didn't want to be the one who ruined our goals for evangelism and meeting with students. I wanted to do ministry side-by-side with my teammates.

But I was that person who ruined the pace of the hike. I cried. I felt like crap physically and emotionally, and I let the tears begin to slowly leak. Aaron and Emma decided to hang back with me. They joined me at my pace. They weren't frustrated. They weren't disappointed. They just wanted to care for me and share the experience with me. Hands down, that moment was the most loved I felt this entire year. They prayed for me. They listened to me explain why I was so frustrated, and they said we'd climb the mountain in whatever way I could do it -- reaching the top didn't even matter.

This year, I've cried because I didn't fit into the "Cru mold". I've cried because I didn't want the Cru mold. I wanted the crazy Young Life mold. I was used to that mold. Over this year, my team has patiently cared about my transition from YL to Cru. Even though I mention YL daily, my teammates don't get frustrated with me. They aren't disappointed by my lack of Cru tendencies. They listen to me explain the differences. They pray for me. They have climbed this scary mountain with me by going with me to strangers' rooms, by initiating conversations instead of expecting me to do it. 

We did short stretches of climbing Mt. Afadjato from then on. I continued to be dizzy and stopped and waited to see if I was about to vomit every few minutes. (For the record, the potential vomit stayed inside! Yay!) And they were the people who hung out with the straggler being energetic and encouraging. They claimed to love it. They liked being able to stop and take pictures of the scenery.

Eventually, I developed my own pattern for ministry here. I don't go knock on strangers doors and pull out a booklet unless students ask me to go with them. Instead, I build friendships, or at least try to; it's been hard to get girls to meet more than once. I do piano lessons. I do things I love instead of things I feel like I have to do to fit in. And my teammates have been encouraging in this. They're not frustrated that I have "low stats" and that I spend good chunks of the week behind the keyboard making music. They're great like that.

These nine months have been hard. Most days, it hasn't seemed worth it. I have wanted to turn back and return home to the familiar and a ministry where I seem to fit in. Other times, I've just wanted to stop and sit and wait for it to be over, wait for the guaranteed return home as everyone else comes down from the mountain. I haven't wanted to join in on the lovely celebration. I was okay with missing out. I just wanted it all to be over. 

Now, I realize that this post hasn't exactly seemed hopeful or happy. And honestly, a good portion of my time in Ghana hasn't been happy. It's been hard. And I've been learning that that's okay. Hard things can still be good things. And life in Kumasi has been hard but good. 

These nine months have been like climbing Mt. Afadjato: sucky, but somehow worth it. I eventually got to the top of Mt. Afadjato. I didn't think I would, but I did. Our lovely guide Wisdom helped, and Aaron and Emma made the journey pleasant.

Now, I feel like I'm at the top of the mountain of this year. And my lovely teammates have made the difficult journey fairly pleasant. 

I'm preparing for my descent and return home. It's been worth it. The view's great. The hard journey has led to some great friendships and beautiful God-given pauses to reflect on the majesty of the year and the climb. I'm dreading having to put forth the effort of climbing down and going back to "normal" ground. That will be another adventure that will most likely be worth it, but it will be oh so difficult. 

But I know that no matter what the descent includes, no matter how many times I slip, no matter when God places me at the bottom of another mountain, I won't have to climb alone. I'll have a great community to straggle all the way to the top with me. And no matter what, the end result will be worth it.