A couple years ago, I took myself on a solo adventure to Moab, Utah. (Highly recommend). A long walk in the desert was needed, and I got exactly what I was looking for. I was careful to hike and climb places that (for the most part) had others nearby in the event of any mishaps. Several hours at a time though, I was beautifully alone. And it was amazing.
There was one particular ginormous rock structure that I couldn’t pass up. There were others there, and it was obvious that the view from the top would be absolutely worth it. My convictions proved true, and I spent a substantial amount of time at the top. I couldn’t help but just sit and enjoy the vast mosaic that was laid out for hundreds and hundreds of miles from the top of this incredible thing that nature had made.
Something I’d missed initially though, was that the climbers who were there were climbing in pairs.
When I finally shifted my weight to begin my trek down, I was met with a hard truth.
I had absolutely no idea how to get down.
I inspected every rock around me trying to decipher how to “get down the way I came up.” Somehow, that seemed impossible. My “seat” itself was narrow, so there wasn’t much room to maneuver around. I looked left and right, over and over, trying to figure out a way to somehow figure it out.
The way up, while not simple, had seemed fairly easy!
The people at the bottom looked like specks. And those specks were already walking far away, back to their own treks. I had absolutely zero desire to yell for any of them, because seriously, I COULD figure this out…right?
After a few failed attempts, I found myself securely back in my “spot” at the top, frozen, and continued to mentally work through my options.
Have you ever been in a situation where, while you spent 90% of the process unafraid, once you realize the situation has become sticky and you CAN’T figure it out, then the fear starts trickling in? I spent a good few minutes still certain I could figure it out…and after the third or so failed attempt, realized that the possibility of being stuck up here was very real.
Then, as if from a movie, I hear, “Ma’am? Do you need help?”
I looked down again, and there was a man at the very bottom looking up at me. Clearly an experienced climber, with all his gear and his clearly experienced climber wife next to him, he was already perched on the bottom rocks ready to save the day. For whatever reason, I briefly looked left and right again, as if I was magically going to figure this out with Aladdin and our magic carpet.
Then I called back down, “Well…it would appear that way.”
In no time at all the man climbed up to me, then began instructing me on where to place my hands and feet. One by one. Hand by hand. Foot by foot. Rock by rock. It felt like FOREVER. And only when I got nearer to the bottom did I think, “Man. No wonder everyone came here in groups. I NEVER would have gotten down.”
The closer we got to the bottom, I could hear his wife sharing instructions with me as well. Both were mind-blowingly patient, and I reached the bottom completely unscathed, albeit extremely sweaty. I thanked them both profusely, and they went about their day as if they hadn’t just saved me from, at the very least, a VERY precarious situation.
I sat at the bottom for a LONG time, every now and then taking a look back up at the top.
You really have NO idea how high this thing is until you climb it, then climb back down. I couldn’t believe how nerve-wracked I was climbing down, hands still shaking just sitting here, despite not having an ounce of fear on the way up.
Funny…that sounds just like the risks life requires sometimes.
Despite the time it took for me to realize the lesson, it was this:
Sometimes, we tackle obstacles as though they are nothing. When you are a goal-setter and a goal-getter, you accept risks, confident the view at the top is going to be amazing. Sometimes, we don’t necessarily need help tackling those risks. But we do, in fact, need help getting down…whether or not the view at the top is amazing and well worth it.
There was a reason everyone there climbing that day had at least one other person. I disregarded that. Not out of spite or ego, but simply because I didn’t think about it. I was there alone, and had already subconsciously accepted the fact that I’d be adventuring alone. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask for help on the way up, because I hadn’t needed it. And it wasn’t before it was too late to ask for help on the way down, that I realized I needed it.
Sometimes, we need help long before we ever think we do.
Thank God for strangers who know what they are doing and are in the right place, at the right time.
Thank God for those who are willing to give their time and efforts to others who could use them.
And thank God for those who, rather than saying, “Why the hell did you go up there alone?” They simply ask, “Do you need help?”
And then they take their time to help you, knowing they can get you down safely. Without berating, without pointing out what you’ve done wrong or how poorly this could have gone.
Simply, “Do you need help?”
You’d be shocked at how much you can change a life simply by asking those words.
Not belittling. Not demeaning. Not demoralizing for making mistakes or taking risks or trying something perhaps you wouldn’t try yourself or would have tried a different way. But ever so simply…
Do you need help?
I certainly needed help. And I thank my lucky stars that some random professional climbers happened to find themselves exactly where I needed them to be in that moment.
I wonder how often we find ourselves in a position to help, knowingly or unknowingly, and don’t ask…do you need help?
In moments when we could very easily…or do, perhaps…verbalize the stupidity of the mistake, or make faces, or make very aware the level of how you “wouldn’t have done it this way,” what exactly do you think you are going to produce? A much more level-headed, happier person with more knowledge?
Hardly.
Heading into a new week, please remember…no matter what status or title you hold (or don’t hold), you are a leader in every area of your life if you choose to be. If you find yourself with an opportunity to help someone, whether they’ve made a mistake, multiple mistakes, or done something stupid and found themselves in a sticky situation, you hold on your tongue the option and opportunity to make or break their day…or perhaps, their life.
Be a leader or be a loser. There is no in between.
Save a life. Or don’t. There is no in between.
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