The Summit

July 19, 2019 Jaycee Weaver18 Comments

Well, I turned forty last weekend. I’m surprisingly okay with that number. I mean, it took a little bit of processing and a whole lot of emotional taking of stock (oh my gosh, <insert life event> happened how long ago?!), but more than anything, I feel like I’m standing on this great mountaintop and I’m looking across a nice, wide summit at this amazing gift called life.

And it’s good.

Earlier this month, I hiked the Domingo Baca/TWA Canyon trail in the Sandia Mountains. My husband did it about twenty years ago and always told stories about it. Mostly about how tough it was, but worth it. We’ve waited and waited until the kids were old enough to make it without complaining too much or needing to be carried, and finally, this was the year!

If you’ve ever read any of my books, you’ll know how much I love my mountains. They call to me. So we answered, the five of us, with our backpacks, lunches, and water. We ventured out into an overcast day with a chance of thunderstorms. Not exactly optimal weather, but we prayed it would hold out until we were finished. It mostly did.

And I just have to interject here that it was pretty much the equivalent of climbing UP the stairs in our two-story house repeatedly for five straight hours, stopping to rest, eat, sip, and shutterbug, and then climbing down those stairs for two more. Yes, the incline was pretty much the same. No, I’m not exaggerating. Much.

Wreckage litters the long, narrow canyon.

But for about an hour in between the going up and coming down, we explored the wreckage of a Martin 404 airplane, once TWA flight 260, that crashed up there in 1955. Being up there in the middle of it was sobering and adventure-inspiring at the same time. To walk among tragedy and see how nature has taken it over was absolutely incredible. (And of course, now hubby and I have a book about it on request with the library!)

I came home with my family that evening ravenous and uplifted in a way I haven’t been in years. Connected with my people, connected with nature, connected with God. And we were drained and sore, but we did it! Over seven miles in a day. I’m sure you can imagine.

When it was all said and done, it was exactly what I didn’t even know I needed to reset my perspective. There’s something incredibly wonderful about experiencing the wild world with those we love. And adding to that the thrill of a successful adventure? Happy sigh. Like that wonderful feeling you get after reading a whole series back-to-back and it ends just perfectly.

That night when we came home, I was reading (as always haha). The story was going a little slower than I had patience for, so I read faster to compensate. It got me thinking about how we voracious readers enjoy a story’s climb. The build up of anticipation, the long looks between hero and heroine, the tension and conflict that grow as everything rushes toward the peak and then resolves. But as I recalled standing on the giant rocks, looking down at the world below and seeing how far we’d climbed, it reminded me to not only slow down and fully experience the climb, but also to enjoy the summit a while.

To savor the best part of the story, both in the books I’m reading and in real life.

Plus, you totally know this adventure is going into a book. *wink wink*

about me · books · inspirational · Uncategorized

I am not a blogger.

July 12, 2019July 9, 2019 Jaycee

Just in case you didn’t realize that. Because, you know, I haven’t posted anything since January. And I released a book in April, so that was a total fail if I’d ever intended to become one. But I’m not, so that’s cool.

I admire those brave souls who constantly come up with interesting content, become influencers in industry and culture, and use their voices to share their awesomeness. But, again, I am not a blogger. What I am is an indie author, wife, and mama with a whole lot of energy, and yet still not enough time to do it all well enough that my recovering perfectionist self can be satisfied with the results.

Oh, and I’m turning forty this weekend. So…that’s fun. I’m surprisingly okay with admitting that number. I’ve been told I don’t really look it (liars, but I love you), and I know I definitely don’t act it (thank you, ADD and teenage daughters). But more than anything, I feel like I’m standing on this great mountaintop in my life, and I’m looking across a nice, wide summit at this amazing gift called life. And it’s good.

Last weekend, I hiked the Domingo Baca/TWA Canyon trail in the Sandia Mountains. My husband did it about twenty years ago and always told stories about it. We’ve waited and waited until the kids were old enough to make it without complaining too much or needing to be carried. And finally, this was the year!

If you’ve ever read any of my books, you’ll know how much I love my mountains. After a rather stressful school year and start to summer, this was an absolute joy of a day. All five of us grabbed our backpacks and plenty of water and ventured out into an overcast day with a 20% chance of thunderstorms. Not exactly optimal weather, but we prayed it would hold out until we were finished.

It was pretty much the equivalent of climbing UP the stairs in our two-story house for five straight hours, stopping to rest, eat, sip, and shutterbug, and then climbing down those stairs for two more. Yes, the incline was pretty much the same. Not kidding.

But for about an hour in between the going up and coming down, we explored the wreckage of a Martin 404 airplane, TWA flight 260, that crashed in 1955. Sixteen people lost their lives in this accident, and most of the information is hard to come by online. But being up there in the middle of it was sobering and adventure-inspiring all at the same time. To walk among tragedy and see how nature has taken it over was absolutely incredible.

I came home with my family that day feeling uplifted in a way I haven’t in years. Connected with my people, connected with my home, connected with God. (And cool story there–every time the sun came out too hot, or it started to rain, I prayed for the weather to hold out. Same with our energy. No sooner did we make it to the car than the sky opened up and poured! And we were drained and sore, but we did it!) Over seven miles in a day, and we did it.

It was exactly what I needed to reset my perspective on life. While I may not be much of a blogger, I am definitely a connector. I need to connect to things, to people, to places, and to Jesus, above all.

And while turning forty sounds pretty scary to a younger person, I’m taking it with a joyful heart that’s ready to stare across the summit of life’s steep climb with the satisfaction knowing how hard it was to get here at times. The air’s nice. So’s the view. I’m in no hurry to climb down, either.

If you’ve made it down this far into my not-really-a-blog post, you’re in for a treat! In honor of my July birthday this weekend, I am giving away my Christmas (in July, haha!) novella, Love, Laughter, and Luminarias for FREE July 12-14! So head on over to Amazon and download it before it’s over. To find what it’s all about, see my BOOKS page! You can also read about my latest release, the third installment in the Everyday Love series, What Makes a Home over there.

And just because I feel like it, I’d love to give away two eBooks of What Makes a Home! Because it’s my birthday and I can do what I want, I’ll give one copy to a random commenter BELOW, and another to the friend of their choice!

*Open internationally to a valid email address. Not endorsed by any entity but me.*

inspirational · Uncategorized

It’s a hike, not a roller coaster.

May 8, 2018 Jaycee

A lot of people use the roller coaster as an analogy for life. I say it’s more like an intense hiking trip.

We have this trail here in Albuquerque called the La Luz trail. It’s something like seven miles long, each way.

When I was younger, a bunch of teenage boys and girls from youth group all in shorts, tees, and ball caps, some in sneakers and others in boots decided to brave the ninety-plus degree summer heat and tackle it. We started out together, laughing and joking around, and gradually, a few of the boys and I think one of the more brazen girls took the lead, determined to get to the top. A huge group of us took the middle, and eventually a few fell behind and mostly complained about the heat.

And it was hot. By the end of the day, most of us turned back, but I’ll never forget the faces of my friends who’d braved the entire hike up and then arrived late to our youth night that evening, still red-faced and sweaty, but with the pride of having also hiked it back down. I still remember feeling the regret that perhaps I’d given up too easily and the envy that I couldn’t claim to have conquered the trail with these guys. (That’s me in the center with the white tee and hat and about half the group.)

This trail starts out in a wide expanse of nature’s attempts at greenery, namely brown grasses and scattered cacti. It feels like an easy, unshaded, long walk through the desert and just when you’re pretty sure you’re going to die of heatstroke, you come upon a change in the scenery. Huge rocks line the trail in places, and the plant life looks a little thicker. If you can stick it out, then you’ll mercifully find that the higher and steeper the incline becomes, the closer you are to the treeline. Depending on the time of year, you might even still find remnants of snow the higher you go. Now, the trail has anywhere from a 9% to 40% incline, so it’s never boring. Like most of New Mexico, the surroundings change drastically with every new twist and turn you take. One minute it’s hot, dry, and rather ugly, and the next, it’s stunningly beautiful.

Now, if you’re one of the die-hards who can make it to the top (which I’m sad to say, I never did), you’ll be rewarded with an incredible view of the city. Absolutely incredible. I’ve driven to the top of the crest more times than I can count, so I know where the trail dumps out. It’s a brief walk across the top of my favorite mountain to the Sandia Peak Tramway, the longest aerial tramway in the United States, third longest in the world. A lot of people hike up the trail and take the tram back down, or vice versa. Some have friends pick up them up. The bravest make the fifteen-ish-mile round trip and know the explosive pride of victory. I found a great blog piece that really describes it well.

Okay, so back to the top. I have a ridiculous penchant for viewing everything through analogies. In everything, I see a comparison to something else.

For real life, I see a hike up the La Luz. There are seasons of barren, desolate wasteland like the bottom of the trail. Multiple choices laid out, different paths to choose that lead to the top. There are rocky seasons ahead, when you have to decide whether to stick to the trail or give those boulders a good climb to see what’s on the other side. There are times when you’re ready to give up and turn back because it’s just too hard, too exhausting, too daunting to continue. All the moments when you’re surrounded by friends, and then eventually the pack is sorted out and you’re left in front, in the middle, or straggling behind. Sometimes alone.

For those who keep moving forward, the seasons of shade and growth come. Restorative seasons, with places to rest and enjoy the surroundings. Times of wonder and admiration. Moments where the trees are so thick you’re in darkness, but then the sunlight breaks through again. Climbing, climbing, all the while. Sometimes up, sometimes down, changing direction as needed but trying to stay on course even with plenty of opportunities to veer elsewhere. And then finally, the crest. Victory. The seasons of knowing you’ve made it, relishing in the sweetness of accomplishment and success.

All to turn and find it’s time to make the journey back down all over again. Maybe a nice, smooth ride like the tram. Maybe with friends who’ve picked you up. Or maybe on your feet, making those ups and downs and switchbacks through more seasons of beauty and barren desolation amid rocks and thorns and pockets of beauty.

Such is life, but it’s beautiful. My hope for you today is that you’ll enjoy the climb.

Crap, now I’m going to have Miley Cyrus singing that in my head all day. Ha! And now so will you. Like her or not, that song is lyrical genius. It’s not about how fast you get there. It’s not about what’s waiting on the other side. It’s the climb.

What are you climbing for? Who are you climbing with? As for me, I just want to get to the top and back down again with that red face, sweaty and exhausted, but knowing I did it. I made it. I have no regrets and I’d do it all again and again just to feel the gut rush and satisfaction.

Maybe this summer I’ll take my family and make that literal climb. But regardless, I’ll be enjoying life’s climb. The ups and downs, even the barren places and switchbacks–because I know that the shelter and shade of the One who made me is there, and He’s got a beautiful view and victory waiting.