It Could Be Worse, Right?

It was raining, which was a bummer, but not the end of the world. 

Or so we thought. 

In the last blog post, I wrote about the extreme turbulence we experienced on the airplane, but that didn't hold a candle to what happened next. 

As we got out of the car and took photos in front of a cold and wet Roosevelt's Arch- the famous northern gateway into Yellowstone National Park, I remember thinking to myself: "I need to take what comes and live into it, even if its less than ideal." 

Our family of five was planning to spend the next 4 nights in our tent in one of the campgrounds- at a site we had reserved a year prior. The temperatures the week before and the week after had highs in the 70's and lows in the 50's, but this week, of all weeks, had lows in the 20's. The forecast called for rain, snow, and maybe a day of sun towards the end of the week. We were reluctantly prepared. It wasn't quite shaping up to be what I had pictured when dreaming about the epic Yellowstone trip.

We stopped in Mammoth Hot Springs, and then continued on our way across the northern part of the park. We stopped at Roosevelt Lodge and Stables to see if we could sneak into the famed cowboy dinner- where you ride out on horseback and cowboys cook steak over a fire and serve you cowboy coffee and sing songs. Due to the rain, they had canceled all the horseback riding, but still offered the covered wagon rides. Also due to the rain, some people had canceled, and we were able to snatch up those tickets. It wouldn't be riding horses, but it would still be a cool memory, I hoped. 

After setting up our tent (in the rain) and driving back, we stepped into a wagon pulled by draft horses and made our way to the site at which we were supposed to eat. I was able to make a mad dash and secure us a spot under cover to sit and eat. The whole experience probably would have been awesome the week prior. Again, I reminded myself:  "I need to take what comes and live into it, even if it's less than ideal." I mean, It could be worse, right?

Upon arriving back at the stables, we decided to drive the Lamar Valley- this is in the north east part of the park, right about where we already were. It holds the highest concentration of wildlife, and it was dusk- the perfect time to view the animals. If we were lucky, we might have seen the famous Yellowstone wolves. We weren't. 

It was on this drive that we noticed that the river was awfully powerful, and obviously way outside it's normal banks. Interesting.

And then, on our drive back to the tent, we noticed several landslides that covered the other side of the road. As we passed a sign that had closed the road going the other direction, I realized we might have gotten stuck on the other side if it had been any worse. Interesting. 

As we rolled into camp (yep, still raining) and walked down to the tent, I took notice of the large stream a few feet from our tent, that looked like it likely wasn't normally there. Settling into my sleeping bag and putting on my pair of dry socks, I hoped that it wouldn't decide to sleep with us in the middle of the night. And if it did, I have training on how to deal with hypothermia. So we would be ok, right? I pushed down the anxiety and closed my eyes.

I had entered the trip after years of hoping and months of planning, envisioning making memories to last a lifetime. My family visited Yellowstone when I was a younger child, and had literally done the whole park in one day. "It was a blur!" was the theme of that trip. I was adamant that we would slow down and take it in over 5 days, taking our time to enjoy everything as much as we could. But as the week approached, I was full of anxiety over the details- what were we forgetting? What would go wrong that I could prepare for? How were we going to pack ALL that we needed into two checked bags and 5 "personal items"?!

I was feeling a familiar feeling. You see, when I make plans for adventure and intimacy and beauty, they almost always seem to be thwarted. It has become a common anxiety, which has left me with a voice that has echoed in my head countless times: "Stop hoping for goodness. That hope will kill you. You must be content with struggle."

And once again, it wasn't living up to the hopes we had. Don't get me wrong, we were all good sports- making the best of it as best we could. All along the way, I had started trying to cheer myself up, saying, "Hey- it could be worse, right? I need to take what comes and live into it, even if it's less than ideal." 

It didn't matter. The next morning everything would take a massive left turn. But I'll save that for the next post.

Have you found yourself living with missed hopes and expectations? Have you found yourself trying to pull you or your family up by reminding yourself that things could be worse? Have you started to hear the words, "Stop hoping for goodness" in any areas of your life?

Cody Buriff, Director of Resource Initiatives