“Mom, can’t you take my backpack?”
One holiday when my husband went away on a business trip, I decided to go hiking after much thought over how I would spend time with my child. However, she whined from the moment we began.
“Is it too heavy? We’ll get to the spring soon. Be patient a little more. Let’s take a rest there.”
My child, who was not accustomed to hiking, felt burdened to even carry her backpack that just contained her own things like drinking water, snacks and so on. I was reminded of myself in my childhood days.
Shortly after my younger sister was born, my mother gave birth to twins. With the newly born crying babies and my grandmother who came to help my mother, there wasn’t a quiet day in my house. My father must have thought that going out house with his first daughter, who was not helpful though she was at home, was the way to help my mother. So he often took me to the hill at the back of our village on Sundays. My father put a small water bottle, two wagon wheels, a handful of candies and a towel in my backpack that was just the right fit for me, and put it on me.
“When you go hiking, no matter how hot it is, you must never wear shorts. If your arms and calves are scraped by rough grass, it can be very painful. And do not kick a stone no matter how small it is because your toenail might fall off or you might hurt your toes. If you rest in the middle, you will be more exhausted. Even if you walk slowly, keep moving forward. If you take a break, you won’t feel like moving any longer.”
My father told me several things to be careful about in detail. And he earnestly told me about my backpack.
“Though you want to climb up the hill lightly without a backpack, never do that. Even if you fall, you will be less hurt when you have a backpack on. Put water in your backpack as well as a towel or a change of clothes because when you rest and your sweat cools off you can get cold and that’s not good. And put snacks in there.”
While climbing up the hill, my father taught me the way to tie my shoes so that my laces would not come undone and the way to distinguish poison oak, etc.
I could manage to climb halfway up the hill, but from then on, I was out of breath soon. Huffing and puffing, I asked my father to take my backpack and carry me on his back, and kept asking him to go back down the hill. Then, my father tied one end of the towel to his waist and let me hold on to the other end and follow him. Then I grasped the towel with both hands and climbed up the hill, almost as if I was hanging onto my father. Despite that, I kept whining, so he put some candy in my mouth and told me the names of the flowers in bloom on the path or a story about squirrels in the forest or an old funny story. Like that, he climbed up the hill, with me hanging on his side.
At the top of the hill, there was a spring of which the water tasted absolutely amazing. Father let me drink the water first, and filled the empty bottles he brought in his backpack. After that, I ate the wagon wheels with my father and looked down the hill, sitting at the top. Even till today, I cannot forget the view. The town I looked at from so far away looked so wide, and the houses looked like small toys. I was very excited to find my house among them.
Remembering the times I went hiking with my father, I find myself who has not yet thrown away my habit of whining spiritually. Heavenly Father and Mother put all Their strength into leading Their children one after another until they all reach the top of Mount Zion. Now I examine myself to see if I have even grumbled against a small burden given to me for the safety of my soul, and kept saying that I can’t go on.
“You must listen to Mother. You must prepare the lamp and oil. Study the Bible diligently and preach hard and pray much.”
We must not despise what Father asked us to do in detail, so that we can safely climb up to the top of Mount Zion. Let us follow His directions until we stand on top of Mount Zion where we can quench our thirst with the water of life as clear as crystal and clearly see the brilliant universe.