Ready to Zip

With a helmet fit securely on my head, gardening gloves on my hands to protect them from pinches and rope burns, and awkwardly placed clips and straps and carabiners strapped all around my waist and hips, I stood, shaking, on a step stool on top of a platform 150 feet above the ground.  This was the longest, highest and final zip of our tour. 

My son was already across the line.  He’d been the first in our group to soar the 1500 feet across.

Am I Ready?

“Ready to zip,” the guide’s voice crackled through the walkie talkie from across the ravine.

“Ready to zip,” repeated the guide on my side.  “Don’t forget to look down. That’s what makes it fun – and it’s a beautiful day to take in the scenery from the sky,” he joked.   

A breath in.  A nervous breath out.  I gripped the handles, leaned back and flew. 

“Eeeeeeeee,” I screamed – more out of sheer enjoyment than terror.  The sun shone brighter. The trees showed off their gorgeous green against the red Colorado rocks (whoa, those trees are a long way down, I thought).  And the wind whipped around me, swinging me slightly as I flew across the rope at about 45 miles per hour. 

It was over as quickly as it began.  The next platform came into view. The guide signaled.  To stop, I needed to let go of the handle and slide my hand along the rope above me.  Gentle pressure.  Don’t grip the rope. 

My pace slowed.  The platform was underfoot. 

“Good zip,” the guide greeted me. 

As I stepped down, my son offered his hand to steady my feet.  He grinned.  “I wish this wasn’t the last one,” he whispered.  I couldn’t help but agree.

It Didn’t Come Easily

This moment of enjoyment hadn’t come easily, though.  In the weeks before our zip line adventure, I’d asked and asked and asked, again and again and again until my son agreed to try zip lining with me.  He wasn’t sure.  He questioned the safety and he didn’t like the idea of those heights. 

Once he agreed, I booked the adventure immediately, so we couldn’t change our minds. 

As we drove to the starting point of our tour, the road was wound tightly up the mountain, SO close to the edge, I thought for sure we could go over at any minute.  The guide assured us the road had just been graded, but still we bumped and jumped and jostled along. 

After the first two (much smaller) zips, one of the guides turned to us and said, “This is what we call ‘the commitment zip.’ Once you go across this one, the only way back down is on a zip line.  There are no trails to hike down.  This is it.  Make sure you are really in.”  And we were – all the way in.   

I have a choice to make

Right now, we stand at the edge of the platform.  The new school year beckons us to fly across.  For local friends, this weekend is “the commitment zip” – after this, there is no turning back.  I will be “all in.” But friends, in thinking about my mindset, I have a few choices about how I will handle it.

I could let terror and dread settle in.  Ten months of a school year or 1500 feet of sky – both are a long way.  A thin rope attached to a piece or medal or news reports warning of new mandates – both are reasons to think maybe this isn’t such a great idea. 

Or, I could focus on a few actions to fill me with joy for a “great zip” this year:

*I will zip with someone I love – Or at least people I know and enjoy.  I’ll make connecting with people a priority.  Family.  Teammates.  Close friends.  I’ll find camaraderie in those who will encourage me within the challenges I will face. 

*I will wear protective gear – Just as gloves kept my hands from rope burn as I learned to slow myself down at the end of the zip line, setting boundaries and parameters could keep my head clear this year.  For example, I can set aside one day each week to work late – and one day to leave as early as I can.  I want to pick a weekend day to keep my work bag closed.  As a family, I want to make rest a priority by committing to turn off our email or phone or TV before 10:00pm. 

*I will seize moments to observe the beauty – It seems easiest to focus on how quickly things are going (or how high up you might be!).  But when I pause to focus on the world and people around me, I notice God’s gorgeous handiwork and the gifts He gives. 

How will you make this season a joyous adventure? Are you ready to zip?  

“For the joy of the Lord is our strength.”

-Nehemiah 8:10