Four months ago, in a cave in Honduras, God shared with me that I knew how to go through the hard times with HIm, but I didn’t know how to go through the good times with Him- to go on adventures with Him. So, ever since then, I have been asking and finding out just what it looks like to go on adventures with God– on a kayak in the middle of a volcanic laguna in Nicaragua, a long, barefoot walk down a dusty, red dirt road in Ghana- but nothing could have prepared me for what He actually had in mind.
Everest.
Base.
Camp.
On Sunday, February 11th, 2018, after 8 never-ending days, 8,500 feet in altitude gain, frigid temperatures, and 40 miles trekking through the tallest mountain range in the world, I finally reached– Everest Base Camp.
Did I just write that? A small town girl from Oregon, hiked Everest Base Camp?
A girl who was told at 9 years of age that a disease I could not control, would steal my breath from me and that I should make every effort to protect it.
A girl who is a perfect poster child for how NOT to live with Cystic Fibrosis- pursuing a career as a nurse in the ICU, surrounded by deadly contagious bacteria every day, always forgetting to take my medication, only taking nebulizer treatments as a last resort, letting physical activity take a backseat to my very stressful job, quitting my job to travel to some of the world’s poorest countries for months on end, filtering my drinking water, living in less than ideal conditions for a healthy person– THIS girl?
This girl just hiked to Everest Base Camp?
Living a relatively normal life with CF without oxygen is rare, but hiking Everest Base Camp with Cystic Fibrosis without oxygen???
That.
That is a miracle.
I am a miracle.
Ever since the first week of this year, when I began to ask to the Lord for healing from Cystic Fibrosis, I have been waiting expectantly.
I really felt like the Lord was going to do something miraculous in January. So, when January passed and we traded Africa for Nepal, I began to feel doubt creep in.
The enemy attacked me with condemnation.
You could have been praying today during the time you were playing cards with your team. You could have read your Bible more this morning. You could have worshipped with more intentionality tonight. You are asking the Lord for this big thing of healing, but you are so unworthy to receive it. You won’t ever be able to walk that closely with God to receive a gift like that.
Wow.
Sometimes I wish I could deal with attacks from the enemy from my past, with just blatant sins, but this wishy washy, hypocritical nonsense is just plain annoying!
Like a fly constantly buzzing around my head. Constantly swatting at it, knowing its harmless, but nonetheless still has the ability to absolutely drive you insane!
How quickly I believed and succumbed to the lies of the enemy without even realizing it.
It wasn’t until I received a message from my dad one morning that snapped me back into the reality of grace:
“I was praying this morning and you came to my mind. You talked about your reluctance to think you could ask God to heal you. We know that healing is something we can’t earn. It’s a part of God’s grace that He dispenses according to His will. Keep asking, seeking, and knocking.”
“He rescued me because He delighted in me.”
Psalm 18:19
Believe it or not, I did not put a lot of thought into what hiking to Everest Base Camp would be like. Our squad received an email while we were still in Africa- our squad leader’s invitation to hike EBC with her. We had two days to make a decision and pay. Five of us said yes. And then we had 17 days to wrap our minds around what we had signed up to do AND buy all our gear in Kathmandu, since we have been traveling for the past 7 months and all of the countries average temperatures have been about 85 degrees, we needed to buy a lot to stay warm.
Day 1:
Flying into Lukla alone, is already one of the most dangerous places to fly into in the world, and that was just day one!
The first day and a half of the hike was actually very pleasant. I talked with God and prayed and thanked Him for this crazy incredible adventure, my mind went wild with thoughts of what crazy things He was going to do over the next 11 days. I was freshly showered, the sky was clear and the sun was warm, the views were breathtaking.
We traversed several beautiful suspension bridges over crystal blue water, and the climb was actually gradual downhill to start.
Until we came to this double suspension bridge.
I’m smiling because I was at the bottom. This was before I knew I had to climb up to the very top bridge, cross it, and then proceed to climb 800 vertical meters (or about 2,500 feet) to get to Namche.
After 8 hours of brutal switchbacks, with the sun sinking, we finally made it. On only day two, I was forced to take a good, long hard look at what I had said yes to. How quickly my thoughts changed from what awesome things God might do on this adventure, to survival mode.
Day 3:
The next day was a “rest” or accllimization day. I was so relieved. This feeling did not last long.
Acclimization day is actually not restful in the least bit. You climb up a few hundred meters and then come back down and stay the night at the same elevation, to make sure your body can adjust to the altitude and to prevent deadly altitude sickness or as the Sherpas call it, “the mountain sickness”.
This was the hardest day of the whole trek for me. It was endless. It was cold, windy, and snowing. It was vertical. It was so vertical, they couldn’t even make switchbacks, it was just straight up.
The only thing that kept me from turning back was the promise of an incredible Everest view from the top- our first chance of the trek to see this legendary mountain.
As I climbed, I prayed with every step. My prayer for the Lord to sustain me crept back in. It wasn’t a prayer to thrive, it was a prayer just to survive. When we finally reached the top, my lungs were heavier than I had ever felt them and literally felt like they were on fire. As we looked towards the north, our guide regrettingly told us that we were unable to see Everest today because there were too many clouds.
Out of desperation, I prayed, “God can I at least just see it?”
At this point I couldn’t imagine any possible way that I was going to make it another five days and thousands of vertical feet with thinner and thinner air. Tears came to my eyes as He quickly replied.
“No.”
“Because I’m going to take you to it.”
Day 4:
I woke up the next morning with an unreal sense of renewed energy. The climb was a hard one, but after the day I had before, this one seemed doable. It was a huge mental challenge though, as we had to hike DOWN 400 meters, before lunch, and then go right back up, almost 800 meters to get to Deboche- where we would spend the night. That night I struggled with sleep. My chest felt like it was a hundred pounds, it felt crushing. I assumed it was from working out my diaphragm the past four days, hiking for 6-8 hours each day and struggling to breathe deeper as the air thinned.
Day 5:
This morning I woke up just not feeling well at all. I felt like I was sick. I didn’t have an appetite. Which, if you know me at all, is unheard of. I struggled hiking all day. It was miserable. I had to force my body to move. When we finally made it to Dingboche, doubt began to creep in again. Worry and anxiety gripped me as I sat in the tiny tea lodge with a few other trekkers and teammates that night.
One of them had brought a pulse oximeter with them (such a brilliant idea and something I appreciated as a nurse!). I felt a lump in my throat as I put it on my finger and watched the numbers pop up.
Heart rate: 125
SpO2: 80% (blood oxygen level)
Now, a normal heart rate is anywhere between 60-100. But a resting heart rate should be more towards 60-80. These vitals were taken after I had been sitting, resting for several hours. Blood oxygen level should be anything higher than 94%. A Sherpa actually informed me that normal levels at 4400 meters were 85%, which blew my mind as nurse. This slightly eased my anxiety, but not for long. The rest of my teammate’s vitals were heart rates between 70-100 and oxygen level of 88-95%.
That night as I lay in my triple layers of clothing, hat, gloves, sleeping bag liner, -10 degree down sleeping bag, and two giant comforters piled on top, I broke down in fear. I knew now why I had struggled to sleep the night before and why my chest was so heavy, it wasn’t from my diaphragm, it was heart pain. My heart rate was way too high. I had no idea how to slow it down, I was laying in bed for crying out loud and my heart was ticking away like I had just gotten done sprinting.
The enemy shrouded me in fear. I began thinking about how many days I could stay in this cold tea hut alone and wait for my teammates to come back for me after getting to base camp. I knew if my heart rate was this high just laying here, there was no way I could possibly hike. The enemy sneered at me.
How could I have ever thought I could do something like this, with a lung disease? How foolish I was.
I peeled myself out of all of my layers and desperately walked towards my other teammate’s rooms, to ask for prayer.
I lightly tapped on their doors.
Nothing.
They went to bed over an hour ago and are warm in their beds, how could you possibly think or ask them to get out in the freezing cold just to pray for you? They need their rest. This is foolish. This is not their fight. This is yours. You are alone.
For as long as I could stand, I walked outside and stared up into the black starry sky through the frost of my own breath as I cried and pleaded for God to help me.
He doesn’t hear you. What do you want? A miracle? He already gave you Everest Base Camp. You chose this, knowing your physical limitations. You want more now? You’ve made it this far, that is already far more than you deserve.
I went to bed defeated. Under a crushing darkness of the enemy’s lies.
But nothing could have prepared me for what Day 6 would hold.
