Leave It On The Mountain

 "Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our lives is the perfect preparation for the future that only He can see." — Corrie ten Boom

I am sitting in a kayak in the middle of a mountain lake. The water is cold and the October air is deeply soul refreshing. The aspens are turning and I am honored to be a witness to their transformation. And somehow I find myself here, in the quiet, paddling through the marshes, looking down into clear mountain water and watching the fish swim underneath me. It is so quiet here, so peaceful, so perfect. And while it wasn't the quiet that I was looking for, the quiet moment found me when I needed it most. And in this perfect moment, I have fallen in love with the mountains all over again." 

A few weeks ago I was invited to a women's retreat in Colorado. The invitation came when a participant had to drop out at the last minute leaving one spot available. The message came in, "If you can get here in 24 hours the spot is yours." In order to make that happen though, I had only an hour or so to make my decision and get things in place to make the trip, and also be prepared to be gone for a full week. Both tasks were a little unnerving. And I found myself both enormously excited and completely panicked. 

Before I even reached my decision, the thoughts and fears of what-ifs bombarded me. How could I possibly take off work that long with no warning and no planning? What about my kids? How do I make this work? I honestly wasn't sure if I was making a good decision. It felt indulgent and reckless. But yet, this was exactly what I had prayed for. And if God had allowed this opportunity to present itself, and I believed in my heart that God was behind this, why would I reject it?

As I tossed the decision around in my mind, I added a request in prayer that if this was something I was supposed to do then the right plane ticket would be available, I would have the help that was needed to keep things running at home, and everything would fall into alignment. And it was, and it did. So I made a few phone calls, booked a flight, and started packing. 

I believe that some of the most pivotal moments of our lives come without warning. And in this case it was a late Saturday morning. By Sunday morning, I was packed and headed to Denver International with my heart in my throat. I was about to embark on an emotional wellness journey that I knew might change me, but more importantly, it might also break down some well built walls I had. And the idea of someone breaching those well built walls was both liberating, and nerve wracking. What if this wasn't for me? What if I fail? What if I'm out of place? What if people see my grief? But, what if I stay in this emotional tomb for the rest of my life? ...

 I landed and was picked up by one of the group leaders. As we made the drive from the airport to our summit location I had the opportunity to get up to speed on the events of the week and what to expect. I was joining the first Women's Warrior Summit that was designed to restore purpose in our lives. The Women's Warrior Summit is also just one part of a non-profit organization called Mountains Move. This organization is designed specifically for veteran's dealing with PTSD, trauma, and the transition from a military life back into civilian life and was founded by a career Air Force veteran. I am not a veteran, but yet I was here by invitation. The opportunity arose, and I knew I had to grab it. And I prayed that God would orchestrate the week on my behalf in whatever way He saw fit. 

Over the course of the week-long summit our small group dove into the study of Philippians. But in addition to that, we also tackled the mental and emotional enemies that often derail our thoughts, and direct our steps into patterns that don't serve us well. And in between, we simply enjoyed the healing beauty of the mountains. We spent our late mornings and afternoons in the alpine air as we hiked, jeeped, kayaked, and horsebacked our way through the mountains and valleys and over the Continental Divide. And each day I felt a small part of myself thaw and warm - and each day I pulled a step farther away from the noise in my mind. 

I began to wonder this; if I have this kind of noise in my mind, how must so many of our nation's veterans feel?

I believe there is nothing quite like the warfare that happens to our nation's veterans as they transition out of a military life into the civilian life. I believe this is especially true when they have spent the better part of their working life in that military setting. 

The U.S. Department of Veteran's Affairs states that 6% of the U.S. population will have PTSD at some point in their lives. The World Health Organization however, states that over 70% of people globally will experience a traumatic event at some point in their lives, but yet only 5.6% will go on to be diagnosed with PTS (D). The question remains, how many people have undiagnosed PTS? With or without a diagnosis, the numbers of people who experience and struggle with a traumatic event are staggeringly high. And so many suffer silently for a host of reasons. 

Diagnoses aside, we must address the struggles that arise with challenging, and often tragic, events, such as divorce, death, transitional crisis, wartime, illness and more. We must also acknowledge the statistics regarding how many people have dealt with one or more significantly stressful events that do not get properly resolved.  As I sort through statistics regarding mental health and wellness, I find more questions than answers. My conclusion is that we have a large number of people in our country who are struggling in some capacity but who are not accessing the proper care, either from lack of resources, lack of initiation to reach out for help, lack of time, money, or a number of other reasons. And in many cases I can relate to first hand, it was a matter of knowing that I needed counseling, therapy or "something" but I couldn't bring myself to open up about it all. And in a more broad scope, in my own experience, I simply couldn't bring myself to reach out and ask. I was not in a place to do that. Imagine a person caught in a rockslide and hanging on for dear life on unsteady ground. Can that person feasibly help themselves back to the level ground of safety? No - they're too paralyzed by the holding pattern of being still so that they do not continue to fall. Many times they cannot climb to safe ground on their own or even extend a critical hand outward for help. And I believe we must look at mental health and wellness with the same eyes. So many people are on the rockslide. And just because they're not falling does not mean they are safe, or well, or have the ability to reach out. 

In all of the data I researched, there was one statistic I found that hit home with me. In 2023, 59.2 million adults in the United States received treatment or counseling for their mental health within the past year. (Vankar, 2024) And I am again left with an ominous question, "What is it we do not know about the true numbers?" We have 59.2 million Americans who received treatment - but how many needed it and did not receive it?

The struggles that people in general deal with on a daily basis are often not simple, isolated issues. Oftentimes they are complex, with or without any diagnosis, and no less impactful on their everyday lives. 

As I continued to research I reached out to a few friends who are career veterans. And I asked the first question, "Was it difficult transitioning out of the military?" The first response was from an Oklahoma native now working in D.C.,  "Well, for one... you lose your daily routine... your purpose... your mission... you lose the sense of brotherhood.. belonging..." -- " You go go go... and then boom. Done." 

I asked him, "What does that feel like?" He replied, "You feel lost. You gotta look for the next thing. .... I went from leading 550 men and women in a combat unit and being the top enlisted person. When I said something it was done. When I walked into a room everyone stood up. So there's a void." He continued from there and suddenly a few things became clear. "I helped people. I took care of my troops through deaths, sickness, marriage collapses, financial problems, legal issues.. I was busy 24/7 and then one day you are done. So it's a shock. I've had 5 or 6 buddies die within 5 years of retiring from strokes or heart attacks.. a couple from suicide. I have PTSD, migraines, back issues and anxiety all from my 21 plus years and 5 combat deployments. I thought I was going to die so many times... I've seen people's heads blown off, on fire, run over, shot... bodies stacked up...And now, I sit at a desk listening to people complain about the drive into work. I'm a GS15 now and I still don't have the influence to make differences like I did while I was in." 

I continued my inquiry with another career veteran friend. His response was this, (regarding the transition back to civilian life), "There definitely seems to be a feeling of isolation and misunderstanding. I think people that make the military a career have a different way of thinking, problem solving, sense of humor and way of life. We are all taught to think and act in a certain way. In the civilian world, everyone is independent and has their own "set of tools" they use to function in society." 

As the Women's Warrior Summit went on, I felt that the chances of so many of my emotional doors opening would be slim. But still yet, I had the urge to release so many of the burdens and thoughts that kept my mind boarded up. My stress and emotional load was not comparable to so many. And my experiences were certainly not comparable to the women veterans who were also part of the summit. But what I found was 8 women, all with their own varying degrees of thoughts, frustrations, wounds, crutches, temptations, and grief. And as we spent each evening discussing and dealing with the enemies of the spirit - I found that the journey into healing was still in the same direction. During that week-long summit I found unusual comfort in not having a list of things that demanded my attention. There was no minute to minute schedule, no household to keep, no meals to cook. I was a guest - but I was not on a vacation. I was in healing mode rather than survival mode. And my focus was supposed to be on the healing rather than the dozens of tasks that mask the grief and the loss. And chances are, that is how so many of us deal with the curve balls and emotional grenades that come our way. We stay busy, we over-commit, we find a multitude of daily and often trivial tasks to keep our mind from wandering because we know that when the house goes quiet and night time comes around - our mind is often a minefield of memories that hurt us all over again. So my job for this week at summit was to allow healing, in the company of healing. 

One particular day our group took a hike along the old rail line. It was a beautiful day, perfect weather, and incredible view. We walked in small groups, with distance between. It allowed for us to be together, yet have smaller, more private talks. And on this particular day, a sensitive topic came up. I anticipated that it would. And as the group leader and I walked and  talked, she mentioned that we would be going through an exercise to leave the grief we carry on the mountain. I chewed on this during the day - and thought about what it was I wanted to leave. And over the next few days we discussed the symbolism of the mountain perspective, the healing nature of the mountains, the enormity of our God over the trials of this world, and victory in conquering the climb - one rock at a time. Our week was filled with the relationship between God and ourselves, how we approach God, how He approaches us, and the beauty in finding common ground on our journey. 

And as told, a few days later, we jeeped our way up the rocky trails, over boulders and around mountain switchbacks to one of the most incredible views I have ever seen. I have lived in the mountains before. I have traveled to them almost every year for 47 years. I have crossed the Continental Divide dozens of times, often times on small trails no wider than 5 feet across. I have watched rain storms build up and move across the range and reveled in the mystery and beauty of the peaks, caves, and crevasses. I have soaked up the enormity of God and nature and creation. But I have never left behind any part of me among the peaks and ridges of the timeless range. Until that day. 

Our group walked, climbed, hiked and explored before we gathered again for a short message and prayer. Today was the day we were to leave something here. Would it be grief? Would it be regret? Maybe it would be isolation. Perhaps it would be more, like a coping mechanism or even a memory. But we each found our own direction, and our own rocks. And we symbolically placed our burden in each and every rock we picked up and without hesitation or restraint we launched those rocks off the mountain. It wasn't a one-time fix, a simple flick of the wrist that would undo the hurt, nor was it making light of things that were so very heavy. However, it was symbolic. It was ceremonial. It was a step forward down a path that had been previously dark. It was an act of faith that recognized how deeply God wants to carry those burdens for us. Those burdens we carried needed to be held by the most-high, the Alpha and Omega, the creator of the universe, the creator of me, and most importantly - the keeper of my heart. 

One by one the rocks flew out of sight, bouncing down the canyon walls, landing in some unknown tomb in another symbolic gesture showing me that those things I was leaving behind were not mine to carry any longer. And as those stones of grief took flight and disappeared I realized - I didn't ever want to see them again. 

I believe we all know that healing rarely happens overnight. It must be an intentional act that we invest in. It takes pursuance, commitment and a deep love for yourself.  But I do believe that actively seeking healing, especially in the company of healing, is the first best step on that journey. 

My week at Mountains Move Women's Warrior Summit was that first step. I was in the company of women whom I could talk to, laugh with, and pray with. But more importantly, they gave me the opportunity to take a step forward on that rocky, mountain trail of hurt and grief. They showed me that there is a way to the top. And in their friendship, they showed me that I did not have to climb it alone. 

To learn more about Mountains Move: https://www.mountainsmove.org/

If you feel led to donate to Mountains Move, you will be helping more veterans take this first important step. 

** A sincere Thank You to the men and women who have served our great country. 

** And a special Thank You to those veterans who took the time to talk with me for this piece.