Out There

Next week boy child and I will be taking our first hike together on the Appalachian Trail.  We're both pretty excited and a little nervous.  The AT is forming a sort of connective line through my life.  I did my first stretch with my Dad and a group from church when I was about 14.  The trail was really my first experience of adult life, when a friend and I did a stretch right after high school graduation, sans parental supervision.  Now I'm taking my son.  It's part of the journey of fatherhood, it's part of the journey of physical well-being and part of the journey of spiritual renewal.
I'm not even sure that "through-hiking" is really a dream of mine, though I will admit the idea is striking.  I just can't wrap my mind around taking almost six months to hike all the way from Georgia to Maine.  That type of immersion just maybe doesn't fit my personality.  I am a fan of the phenomena of leaving and returning.  I am fascinated by the processes of preparing to leave and going "out there," but I'm equally fascinated by the physical and emotional processes of returning home.
I find that, while there are certain "re-entry" problems, journeys generally leave you with a deeper appreciation of home.  I have already begun to consider the creature comforts I will be temporarily giving up next week: showers, air conditioning, a bed, a toilet, food that doesn't have to be re-hydrated, I know I will miss a significant portion of the World Cup.  And there are also the more relational things, Cate will be with my parents in New Jersey, Michele will be home, probably wondering what to do with herself without all of us to keep her occupied, our family will be separated in a way that has, up to this point, been extremely rare.  Jack and I will be "out there" together.  I'm not really 100% sure that either one of us is really ready for this, but I know we need to do it.  I need to get him away from all the electronics and toys, and he needs to get me away from this thing called grown-up life.
He's a sturdy kid, and he soldiers pretty well, but I know that backpacking always puts your resolve to the test.  You have to climb and carry and endure, I am looking forward to being proud of him.  That is an act of faith, to trust a ten year old to face adversity, and to know that in the end his endurance will be rewarded by mountain streams and spectacular views and the feeling that pretty much nothing else can bring quite like the feeling of self-reliance that comes when you walk out of the wilderness and back into civilization.
The prep work is done, the route is planned, the gear has been carefully selected.  I was going through Jack's pack the other night, and I found that he has been thinking in his own sort of way, he had his flashlight, compass and the stuff I had told him to pack, he also had stashed a few "Jack" things, some gum, a few Legos and various other little nonsense.  To a 10 year old, necessity has a different definition, but then again, he comes from a long line of over-packers.
For me, one of the spiritual components of this sort of journey is the need to simplify; consider what I really need, plan for contingencies, but not go overboard.  I tend to want to go all decked out with enough gear to live off the land for a month, and so I constantly have to ask myself: are you actually going to use that?  Is it worth its weight?
That's a question we need to ask ourselves all the time, but which our comfortable modern lives usually don't require.  It is a question that can be asked of things, but also of relationships and obligations.  It's a question that I think is crucial to ask of the church: are we worth our weight?
But I digress, I'm talking about backpacking here, I think.
I have this hope, an expectation really, that this trip will be a moment Jack will remember for a very long time.  I also hope that it is the first of many of these journeys for us as father and son.  Jack is just a bit too young to go on the Camino with my Dad and me next year, but I think that journey will probably be in our future as well.  I wonder how these times away will be during those teenage years, when maybe he doesn't want to go so much, or in those young adult years when he's just too busy.  Yeah, I can hear Harry Chapin in the background right now too... "the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man in the moon..."
Maybe I'm being too sappy, maybe not.
Time to get out there and find out.