Soaking wet socks

              We greeted the first day of 2009 with a gorgeous five-mile hike up to the Chimney Top in the Great Smoky National Park.  Prior to leaving, we donned our Gore-tex hiking boots, shouldered a Camelbak, and peed in the woods at the trailhead.  We confidently strode down the trail and hadn’t gone more than 300 yards down the trail when I noticed a magnificent sight of a huge log resting on the other side of a white, swollen mountain stream.  The sight was phenomenal - just begging for a photo-op – so I had Jessica scamper across the stream acrobatically while I set up the timed shot.  I could tell that the picture would look so good.  In my mind’s eye, I foresaw a lovely new “desktop” image for our computer, a great greeting card picture, and an awesome new Facebook profile.  I tapped the camera button and trotted to follow my gymnastic wife across the stream.  Upon my first step, however, the stout rock that I thought would offer sure footing decided to quickly deposit me into the stream – it gave a colossal splash as it tipped like a seesaw into the winter stream.  I plunged into the icy water, barely preventing my whole body from plunging under the water.  The rapid current swept almost to my knee, and believe me, waterproof boots don’t count for much when they are entirely submerged.  In an attempt to save some face, I tried to scamper quickly the rest of the way across only to plunge again after stepping on a rock coated with a slick layer of ice.  The camera caught a great view of my backside and soaking pants, but little else.

       After wringing about a quart of water out of my socks, and continuing up the trail, I thought to myself that this was unfortunately a nice example of how distractions can blind us to the real issues of life.  I had focused all my attention onto creating a memorable photograph and had forgotten about the danger of the stream.  I had even forgotten to savor the beauty of the moment.  I just plunged on ahead, literally.  I'm reminded that this world distracts constantly.  Thousands of stimuli compete for the limited access to human awareness.  The American culture rushes continual images at mankind, saying "This is what is important.  Be sure to get this photograph".  At the end of the day, I hope that I don’t end up with wet socks because of being led astray by an empty distraction.  Instead, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith…”