the cave of doom

I have never climbed so many rocks in my life. I spent the majority of this past week scaling the red cliffs of St. George. I even fell down one. I have a huge battle wound on my left elbow from this terrifying time. Picture in your mind the scene of me trying to scramble up the side of a smaller cliff. My hands are straining, my feet are grasping for stable footholds. I'm already worried that I won't be able to make it, even though my friends are offering words of encouragement above me. Suddenly my feet are flailing, searching for anywhere to land, my fingers can no longer support my weight, and I slide down the remainder of the cliff. Arms stinging like crazy, I clamber down the rest of the rock quickly and stand on the ground, pathetically looking up at the good climbers who actually made it to the top, defeated.

It was lucky for them I wasn't willing to give it another try... I took great pictures of everyone instead.

After I got over the shock of sliding down a cliff, I spent the rest of the day spelunking, scaling more cliffs, and watching my friends cliff dive into the freezing turquoise waters at Sand Hollow. And as I stood there at the top of a petrified sandstone mountain next to my best friends, I couldn't help but feel a little bit happy. Happy to be free, happy to be warm, happy to be surrounded by beauty.

And that is just a snapshot of the trip... let's just say I never wanted to come back.

p.s. you're reading the words of a returning EFY counselor... bring on the summer :)