On the Road to Happiness?

We had a nice family home evening last week about our family and goals. We talked about how we can't get anywhere if we don't know where we're going.

We talked about conquering new things as a family.

It was motivational.

We felt great.

One of our goals was to spend more time outside. We don't want to be a couch potato family. So, on the very first Saturday after our goal fest, we headed out to the great outdoors to move toward our goal.

We fell flat on our face.

OK. Let me qualify that. The day started great. The day ended great. It was just that middle part that got a little bit ugly. Well, not just a little bit. Downright ugly.

We headed back to Red Rock. Where else can you hike in a sweatshirt on January 9 and get so hot you have to take it off? Las Vegas does have its advantages.

We met our great friends, The Knudsons, for about an hour and a half of climbing the cliffs and a picnic lunch before they had to head back down the mountain. Then, we got to the meat of our day--we actually wanted to hike a trail. Mistake number one. Don't spend an hour and a half exerting oneself before the actual hike.

So, we began hiking. Before we reached the trailhead we began to hear, "When are we going home?" (from Todd) and "Mommy, can you carry me?" (from Ben).

We kept hiking. I carried Ben for about the first 20 minutes until he found his groove. Then he remembered he could climb and jump and act like a monkey and he got happy again. About an hour into the hike, we met a family coming down the trail. Mistake number two. I asked how close we were to the end. "Not very close," was the reply. We kept going.

After we had consumed all our Cliff bars at a conveniently located "stone couch" Todd found in the trail, he asked, "Why are we wasting our whole Saturday at Red Rock?" Perhaps we need to go deeper in our goal-settting?

We kept hiking. Climbing. Slipping. Gaining elevation. It was a challenge, but the kids were doing fine and it was by no means insurmountable. The complaining was interspersed with laughter, major posing for Dad's camera, and some really fun moments when they forgot their goal was to make the hike miserable. When they remembered their task at hand, they were masterful at whining. You would have thought we were asking them to climb Everest.

We kept climbing.

We finally made it. It was breathtaking. (Not the small pool of stagnant water called the Calico Tanks that was the actual name of the hike, but the view of the entire Las Vegas valley framed by the vibrant red rocks illuminated with late afternoon sun).

Todd's reaction? He started crying and hunched into the corner of a rock. This wasn't little sobbing, but the ugly-cry, the kind where your face gets all blotchy with red and purple and your nose starts running to beat the band. The kind where you won't let anyone touch you or hug you. The kind where you're certain nothing will ever be right in your world again. What was the cause of this depth of despair? He realized that we had reached the end of the trail. . .and we had to go the entire way back.

At this point Ben decided he should join the pity party. His cries weren't quite so ugly, but he was whiny enough to make up for it. Mistake number three: Ryan and I laughed. Really. It was seriously pitiful. We hiked all that way and couldn't even get a decent photo with the fun new camera because our children were bawling. Awesome.

So, we turned around and headed back. Actual mistake number four: Todd left his sweatshirt at the car because we really were warm earlier, but it was cold in the canyon. So, I gave him my coat and froze in my short sleeve T-shirt for the rest of the hike. As he warmed up he finally stopped crying (about 15 minutes into our return hike) and regained some semblance of normalcy. Somewhere about this time, a switch flipped in Ben and he started his unending talking jag. When he starts this, we know he's doing just fine. He's in his happy place when he can't keep his mouth shut for more than .5 seconds. So he recovered nicely.

It took much less than half the time to get back down out of the canyon. The two hour hike at a moderate level ended up taking us three hours. But we did it. We accomplished a family goal. The boys were just happy it was over, which wasn't really the outcome I had hoped for. But, I think I learned some good lessons.

1. Be better prepared--bring more snacks. We had plenty of water, but a bit more protein or some good carbs might have made a difference. Isn't this how life is in general? Don't most of our less-than-stellar performances come when we could have been better prepared but simply weren't.

2. Keep layers of clothing with you. We are physical creatures, all of us. When we're hot or cold or hungry or tired, things look bleak.

3. Sometimes things are hard, but we have to do them anyway. This is the reason we will be back on that trail again in the near future. We're going to conquer it happily (or maim each other trying).

4. Our kids aren't always going to be happy as we journey along this trail together. But, our main goal isn't to make our kids "happy" 100% of the time. Our main goal is to help them find a path that will bring them eternal joy, and that's a much more difficult thing to find. The world produces a false sense of satisfaction and happiness in entertainment, so if we aren't careful, our kids think those things are happiness and they think other things are a waste of time because they don't bring about that quick instant gratification. It's a challenge unique to our time. (Again, read David A. Bednar's Things As They Really Are if you haven't done so).

4. How often does Heavenly Father look down at me and say, "you're making this harder than it is? It really isn't that bad. Just back up and change your perspective." The hike really wasn't that bad. My kids were physically fine. Other than being a bit chilly, their basic needs were met. But Todd got it in his head that it was soooooo hard. Once that thought had planted itself, he just couldn't shake himself out. I'm going to think about that next time I feel bogged down. How much of it is real and how much of my pain am I manufacturing to make myself miserable?
Who knew I could learn so much from one hike? I'm headed back next week for more. . .wanna come?

Near the beginning, what a cheese ball

Super Ben


Still relatively calm

Early in the hike, during the "happier times"

Striding out, pre-breakdown

At the top. . . This picture really doesn't do justice to the drama.

Todd never even checked out this amazing view.