I am terrified of heights. More specifically, I’m terrified of falling from heights. It seems my youngest child has inherited my fear.
This past weekend, the five of us spontaneously decided to go to Stone Mountain, Georgia, for one last hoorah before school starts later this week. We piled in the car on Saturday morning and after a couple of obligatory stops at The Varsity and the American Girl store, we made it to Stone Mountain Inn.
We’d heard the ropes course was a ton of fun, so we headed there first. Upon realizing the line was an hour wait, we knew we wouldn’t have time to complete the course before the attractions shut down. We quickly decided to head over to ride the sky lift to the top of the mountain.
Upon reaching the top, we walked out onto the massive stone mountain, and I was in awe. It was most literally a massive mountain of stone with a breathtaking view. After we all posed for several photos and meandered near the fenced border, I walked over and sat down next to a tree so I could take it all in from a more-than-safe distance from the edge. The sun was starting to set, the wind had picked up, the air was cooling down, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to focus my eyes on the clouds above or the steeple off in the distance below.
Atop Stone Mountain
My free-spirited middle child thought it was funny to tease me by backing up against the fence that bordered the edge of the drop off. I didn’t find the humor in her antics.
After about an hour on the mountaintop, we headed back down and finished the evening off with dinner and the laser show, promising the girls we’d head to the ropes course right after breakfast on Sunday morning. We did just that, and were pleasantly surprised to find that we only had to wait in line about ten minutes. Had I realized what I was getting myself into, I probably would’ve never gotten in that line.
The two older girls were in line ahead of us, and shot across the first obstacle without apprehension. But then it was the youngest and my turn. It should’ve been easy. It was only ten feet off the ground, and we were wore harnesses that connected us to a cable system above. There was no way we could fall.
Logic told us we were safe, that our straps would keep us from falling. Fear told us we’d end up with our faces planted in the cement below.
Fear is a liar and we fell for it too easily.
We stepped up to start the journey from the first platform to the second, and my youngest had tears in her eyes. She no longer wanted to cross the rope. Truth be told, I didn’t either. I let her go on my side where she could cross a beam. I held my foot out to step onto the rope, and immediately felt like I might be sick. I couldn’t do it either. I waited and crossed on the beam. We both made it to the next platform with much fear and trembling. This went on for about 30 minutes, crossing one obstacle after another, her tearing up and me feeling sick.
When we reached the last platform of level one, I announced to Mark that I was out. I couldn’t do the second level. No way. But the youngest? She’s a trooper, and even though she was afraid and Mark often had to guide her across the obstacles, she completed level two.
Mark helping the youngest across the ropes course at Stone Mtn.
The difference between us was this: I allowed fear to paralyze me, stop me in my tracks. She faced fear and pushed through it.
Later in the day, she wanted to go through the ropes course again. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time, but her bravery made this mama proud.
Maybe it only takes one successful attempt at pushing through fear to find our courage. Maybe when we learn that what scares us won’t kill us, we learn to really live. Maybe when we come out on the other side of fear as a survivor, we can enjoy taking risks. Maybe when we find out we’re really made of brave hearts, we’ll jump at the chance to conquer a difficult challenge.
My youngest has figured out these life lessons, whether or not she realizes it.
Me? I’m still learning.
