Buffalo National River 3.21.08

Although I have to admit a fair lack of diligence on my part, I was still thoroughly surprised today on my search for a decent outdoor experience in the Midwest. The Buffalo National River really came through. Ironically, we didn't actually visit the Buffalo River. Instead we spent several hours exploring the Lost Valley Trail, which is neither "lost," nor a "valley." Ha! Anyway, the trail ( just over 2 miles altogether) leads to Eden Falls and Eden Falls Cave, but has plenty to see along the way. About the only thing to complain about is the massive crowd of people who flock to the place.

The guidebook said it was a popular trail, but pulling into the parking lot at the trailhead was like pulling into a mall. There must have been at least thirty cars. And tents everywhere. It looked more like a tailgater at a fooball game than nature preserve. Still, it was better than anything I've seen yet in Indiana or Missouri. I'm pretty sure the Hoosiers would've paved the trail to make it wheelchair accessible. Sad wouldn't quite cover it... Anyway, it was a great experience.

As we headed up the trail I was at first disappointed, both by the crowd, and by the large sign that said "No Camping Beyond This Point" posted just a few feet from the trailhead. That first impression though was quickly proved inaccurate by the natural beauty of the surrounding area. The trail basically just runs along Clark Creek for a mile or so. We had a great time crossing and re-crossin the creek and at one point stopped for a while at a pool below a small set of falls coming out of a cave we could actually crawl through and come out on the opposite side back on the trail!

We climbed all over the place. Fortunately, we'd read a little beforehand about what to expect, so getting wet and muddy wasn't an issue. Dry, clean clothes were waiting for us back at the van.

Nate in particular had fun. I mean, we all had a great time climbing over the rocks, trying not to get swept down the creek into the pool, or break our necks falling off a ledge, but Nate was just fearless. He always has been. I remember as a baby he would climb relentlessly. I can't count how many times he fell. I'm afraid I've failed him as a father by yelling at him so much, from the time he was born, about trying what he can't do. If he ever cops to an inferiority complex, I'm the cause. Yet he's still just fearless. Today he climbed out onto a ledge overlooking the pool that even I was hesitant to go out on. I mean, other people were doing it as well, but one slip would mean cripplin damage or death for a six-year-old. And still I had to hold him back. Could he do it? Of course. He's Nate. He's as surefooted as a mountaingoat, a trait he's been working on forever, but I'm his dad. All I could think about was his safety. So we hit the ledge together.


By the time we got to Eden Falls we'd already climbed through one cave, seen a few spring flowers, played in the stream, and stood under several cliffs and small waterfalls. All in all, if we hadn't gone any farther, it would've been a good day. But Eden Falls were by far the biggest we saw. Not the tallest (only 35 feet), but definitely the highest volume. Of course, Mandi the Waterfall Lover was happy. The best, however, was yet to come.


At the top of Eden Falls sits Eden Falls Cave. After climbing the trail to the entrance, we set down our packs and hiking sticks, donned flashlights, and set off into the darkness. For once I was glad for the crowd. I think having other people in there with us helped calm any fears the kids might have had, and, naturally, it made it a lot easier to trace the route. Crawling on hands and knees through the darkness to the back of the 200 foot cave was messy, but fun. At the back end it opens into a large chamber with a small (20 foot?) waterfall coming out of the ceiling. Way cool!!!


One of the personal highlights for me was also one of the most unexpected. On our way into Eden Falls Cave we passed another family on their way out and I overheard the man mention to his wife that he'd lost his knife. It was just a casual remark, but for some reason it stuck with me. Then, on my way out, on my hands and knees, staring into the clear water of the creek only inches from my face, what do I spy in the feeble light of my headlamp? A knife, still in its sheath. So I grabbed it out of the water, tucked it into a pocket, and kept on crawling. Later, in the parking lot at the trailhead, I caught up to the man and wa able to give him back his knife. We were both surprised by the exchange. But Mandi admitted afterward that she'd prayed for it to happen. What a woman! ;-)

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. On ur way home we got to drive past a forest fire just outside Springdale, AR. It was dark enough that we could see the flames clearly along a .3-.4 mile stretch of US-71, and it was close enough that we could smell the smoke. How anything could burn with all the rain we've had lately, I'll never know. But it was a pretty good fire.

Why bother with prayer? ...a lament.

Why do we spend so much time praying with our lips and not our ears? Too often we speak to God of what we want and never stop to consider what He wants for us. We're too busy talking to God to listen to what He says. We fervently and passionately pour our hearts out to Him, petitioning as ardently as we know how, then we act on our desires, interpreting the momentary pause in our words, the silence between breaths, as His assent to do as we wish. Pathetic.

How often do we fail to truly listen for the leading of the Holy Spirit?

How often do we search His word for answers, seek wise counsel (wise here meaning more than just friends and roommates, but pastors and elders in the church)?

How often do we actually make Godly decisions instead of just good ones?

How often do we experience failure, moral and otherwise, for lack of patience? For lack of commitment to understanding God's heart in a matter, and not just our own?

How often do we regret following our hearts instead of His?

How often do we exchange the pleasures of the moment for the delights of heaven?

Too often to count.

Hi. I'm Broken, who are you?

Some people have never been broken. They have never come to grips with the ugly truth of their own inadequacy. I'm not sure I've ever been whole... I mean, sure, I play the game; I look whole. I look by all outward appearances as if I have it together, but that's not me. That's just the image of me. That's what I let you see. The facade.

The real me is a mess. The real me weeps at how pathetic I really am. Maybe that's why I cry at so many sappy movies. Because I long for something real. I want desperately for the image to be reality. Who knows. I'm not sure that even makes sense. What I do know is that despite the external appearance (and even that isn't exactly 'cool'), the internal me is insecure, afraid and passionately fearful that someone will discover how much I struggle with pride, lust and swearing, not to mention a host of other dearly held sins. The internal me is messed up. Broken. Alone.

I hate being alone, but I am. And I don't mean alone like by myself in my office, but alone like in a crowd where no one knows me. I am alone. It is the price I pay for acceptance. I have many acquaintances, a handful of friends and peers, but brothers who love me so deeply I can bare my soul? None. Men to whom I can trust my darkest secrets? My deepest fears? The stuff that might cost me my credibility, my job, my family? Where are they?

And the irony is that I believe I stand alone in a crowd of brothers. Each one struggling with the same sense of isolation and fear that I am. Incomplete. Hoping desperately to be discovered and paralyzed by mind-crushing fear of that same occassion. We are the Brotherhood of Broken Men. We need one another, but are too wary to trust one another. We stand shoulder to shoulder, forever touching, yet never speaking Eye to eye, we see, yet do not understand. Do not know beyond the image that is portrayed. We sin together, quietly keeping fellowship at bay with an easy smile and a firm handshake. Broken we stan united, and you'll never know it because we'll never show it. Maybe one day I'll have the courage to break loose, to let the brotherhood come to an end, and allow the Spirit of God to reign free in my life. But not today.