McKay Essay: Climbing With Patience

David O. McKay Essay: Draft 4

The Restored Gospel and Applied Christianity

Climbing With Patience

Before climbing Mt. Kilamanjaro I didn’t know what patience was. “Polay, polay” the porter calls. We continue at our pace despite his warning to slow down. The tropical rainforest of the friendly day now lurks over our heads with mysterious fear in the dark, frigid night. Our ears hear the earth moan beneath us, our feet covered in mud now freezing over. I slip on the trail, my frostbitten hands feeling for the unprotected roots of a nearby tree found with the aid of my headlamp. “Polay, polay!” resonates again in my aching ears, as I fail to obey the literal meaning of these words: “slow down, slow down!” I found patience to be a controlled, diligent ascent with hope for what lies ahead. Patience is the ability to climb with gratitude a mountain’s obstacles, appreciating the journey at even a slow pace. Patience is needed to climb the mountain successfully, taking time to help others along the way. Patience is a manifestation of love.

“Hold your horses,” “Keep your shirt on,” “Slow down,” “Don’t be in such a hurry,” “Follow the rules,” “Be careful” are more than trite expressions. They describe sincere counsel and speak the wisdom of experience.” (Thomas S. Monson)

The highest peak in Africa brings opportunities for wise counsel to be followed or discarded. Despite continual exhortations, we continue quickly, greedy with empty stomachs seeking to be filled. We know the camp is near. As the terrain becomes steeper, our mountain guide cries more firmly “Polay! Polay!” Our eyes cannot see the narrow ridge ahead, as we climb without the wisdom of experience. Soon thereafter, “Help!!” a panicked cry sounds amidst our group. “Help! Helllllp!” a screeching cry is put to a halt with the strong dark hands of the savior in the night. The strong porter who dropped everything else he was carrying at the sound of a frantic cry, now labors to pull a wayward climber back up over the ledge she hadn’t seen. Bushes ruffle in the dark night, and excitement resonates within our group of frightened mountaineers. The one wayward mountaineer is a good representation of the entire group who chose not to follow several of the previous warnings.

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Roosters crow disrupting the silence of the dark night, now beginning to stir with the anticipation of morning. Acatia trees are illuminated along the horizon as morning awakes. Babies cry, children’s feet shuffle along dirt roads sending stones rolling down the road to school. Thump, thump, thump…empty cans bounce on the rear of a donkey traveling for water with the loud snap of a whip coming from a small boy hearding livestock. A hustle and bustle along the main road is felt as smiles and greetings exchange on the way to the market.

A street dog yawns and stretches after being awakened by the sound of howling rubber tires and honking horns along the main road. My neck jerks suddenly, my resting eyes now made alert, my heart begins to race at the sound of shrilling brakes, my body forced from the left to the right. “Not again,” I thought. With the tilt of a wrist my watch mocks our tardy state; each second seems as a year while we wait again for livestock to clear the road. Our driver smiles while we watch each tick of the clock with unrest. Impatience is a choice.

“Patience may well be thought of as a gateway virtue, contributing to the growth and strength of its fellow virtues of forgiveness, tolerance, and faith.” (Robert C. Oaks)

Finally at the base of Mount Kilamanjaro Abdu, gives his hand to be greeted differently than most men do. He humbly offers the stub of his right arm ending just before the elbow’s usual formation. I shake, taking little time to act surprised at the feel of a limp, spongy stub. We exchange quick friendly greetings, and Abdu expresses his positive outlook on life as he cheerfully swings my week’s belongings onto his back. “We are go now!” he declares with a grin; for Abdu there is always time for optimism.

Right, left, right, left…step-by-step we ascend. The entire group works together to progress up the mountain, traveling at a pace to accommodate several different abilities. I feel held back, and easily frustrated with stops along the way. Abdu stops to point out flowers of purple, blue, yellow, and bright pink defeating steep cliffs, boulders, and switchbacks. “Zey grow up de mountain togezer slow and so do we” he states. He sees what I don’t in the cold morning shade.

Fallen leaves frozen over, crunch under our feet, yearning for the day’s first warmth of the sun. Light brings a new perspective to time. The morning mist lifts, revealing the trail more clearly. My legs itch with excitement, pushing me forward despite the wise counsel given the group to patiently ascend together. Butterflies of vibrant colors effortlessly flutter us by, traveling up the mountain ahead, and I long to join them. Fed up with the slow (yet steady) pace, I justify my leap ahead. “I want to be first to the top!” I don’t see that I must have others to help me ascend - to wait for Abdu seems foolish. He remains with the group, helping others along and cheerfully educating those he leads in broken English. Exquisite birds soar with their glorious orange, turquoise and deep black feathers, cheering my flight through their long beaks. I feel their approval and rationalize it to be enough.

“Patience must be our constant companion during the journey which carries us toward that great goal, “Continue in patience until ye are perfected,” [which is] the counsel the Lord gave, (Doctrine & Covenants 67:13).” Angel Abrea

Without the companionship of patience, the path seems clearly marked with signs the first few miles until it splits in two and the empty reality of my solo race sets in. I wait for a moment. A drop of dew from the tropical foliage above startles me on my forehead. Unfamiliar animals screech, and their shrill-like commune echoes from all directions. Flowers, trees, and bushes, I perceive to be closing in on my path, hiding unknown dangers. What was beautiful and adventurous begins to threaten as my distance from the group lengthens. “What should I do? I cannot stop! Not now! This is just the beginning.” My young mind rivets on the summit with still 17,000 feet to go. The euphoria of solitude on Africa’s highest ascent fills my being with selfish ambition as I pass by others without asking who I may be able to help. Yet, I know that to be perfected alone is impossible.

“Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.” Hebrews 12:1 (Paul)

Scurrying up the mountain, I neglect to sight the grey clouds above which descend to damper my adventurous high with the heavens’ release of humility. A downpour of golf-ball size rain drops and the thunderous growl of the angry sky chasten me. Through fierce winds and rains, I swallow, pausing to catch my breath. Slipping and falling on several occasions in my attempt to climb through the storm on my own, thick mud covers my feet, my hands, and my arms and legs. I stop…I pray….this great cloud is to great to conquer alone.

Climbing with patience is climbing with hope; the two are inseparable. The word “esperar” in the Spanish language contributes to the relationship between hope and patience with its two definitions: “to wait for” or “to hope for.” Climbing the highest peak in Peru a few years after attempting Mt. Kilamanjaro, I found myself waiting and hoping for the peak’s glorious outlook, while still finding joy in the slow-paced journey. While Wynapichu is a much smaller mountain, it still presents the same challenges that come with a group climb, patiently working together to ascend.

I descend back towards the group with damaged pride and feeling defeat. Patience often requires repentance. I realize the climb up Mt. Kilamanjaro is not a race, but a journey that must be paced. Patience is a virtue I now seek through action, rather than waiting for it to find me. Brushing a clump of mud from my brow with my right forearm, I smile at my hard-working friend Abdu (who looks no fatigue). “Jambo!” I declare after using my limited native vocabulary to express my apologies for disregarding his previous counsel. The surrounding porters chuckle at my mud-covered appearance, and we laugh together while continuing the ascent. Their abounding enthusiasm and optimism through the storm helps our group endure the storm with dilligence. Thunder, and then another flash of light, opens the heavens. We prevail with patience the giant drops of water amidst the beautiful, lush and green rainforests. Our surroundings seem no longer threatening, but beautiful, mixing culture and harvesting respect and hope through the storm.

“Tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope.” Romans 5:3-4

“Polay, polay” the porter calls. The storm now clear, we desire to make up for lost time in the hours of the evening. We continue at our quick pace despite his warning to slow down. The tropical rainforest of the friendly day now lurks over our heads with mysterious fear in the dark, frigid night. Our ears hear the earth moan beneath us, our feet covered in frozen mud. Climbing a steep ascent of the trail, my frostbitten hands feeling for the unprotected roots of a nearby tree found with the aid of my headlamp. “Polay, polay” resonates again in my ears made numb with the cold. Despite continual exhortations, we continue quickly, greedy with empty stomachs seeking to be filled. We know the camp is near. As the terrain becomes steeper, our mountain guide cries more firmly “Polay! Polay!” Our eyes cannot see the narrow ridge ahead. “Help!!” a panicked cry sounds amidst our group. “Help! Helllllp!” a screeching cry is put to a halt with the strong dark hands of the savior in the night. Trial and tribulation make it evident that we are weak and in need of some greater source of guidance to lead us through our experience.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

The strong porter who dropped everything else he was carrying at the sound of a frantic cry, now labored to pull a wayward climber back up over the ledge she hadn’t seen. As bushes are ruffled in the dark night, and grunts of exertion sound from the guide, excitement resonates within our group of still, frightened mountaineers. Success temporarily relieves fear; we know that God’s hand is with us despite our failure to follow instruction. He will not let us fail if we will heed His guidance. We continue the night’s adventure once more, now walking on a frozen trail as if it were a path of egg shells, carefully listening to the counsel of our guide with each step. “Polay! Polay!” is all we can think or say or do in hopes that with patience we may avoid another wayward incident. Patience is stillness, carefully listening along the way.

“Be patient in afflictions, for thou shalt have many; but endure them, for, lo, I am with thee, even unto the end of thy days.” Doctrine & Covenants 24:8

Scattered among rocks big and small by God’s omnipotent hand, the seeds of truth lay unseen, humbly hidden by the brilliance of something grandeous, picturesque and magnificent. The new day brings new perspective. My eyes are open to beauties passed by the day before. The beauty and warmth of light end the bitter night and bring optimism to postlude the life-endangering dark despair. The hours of darkness our group begrudged poorly with complaint and murmur, were endured by the mountain guides, who remained constant, calm and content. I ask Abdu how he does it. “Practeece” he replies. “I climb dis mountain so many timez…and alwayz God, He be zer.” Patience is enduring well without end, and thus, patience takes practice.

Before beginning our ascent with new ears and fresh eyes, Abdu approaches our group with a heavy head. His usual sanguine and upbeat persona was covered by uncertainty and concern on his face. We wait for his command to rally us up the mountain together….but it never comes. “We don’t go today up” he shares. Silence…. “We go today down” he speaks softly with disappointment. The executive decision that our group was not strong enough to continue with the difficult terrain and weather ahead, brought disillusionment, distress, and discontent. Frustration escalates to become anger amidst the group, targeting Abdu.

“Anger can be conquered by developing patience and sincerely desiring to love others more than self.” Gordon T. Watts

“You are not fail!” cried Abdu in an attempt to lift our spirits. “We go!” He would not let us feel defeat. Regretting our previous day’s mistakes, we follow Abdu back down the mountain against our own will. We trust Abdu and we feel his loving concern. Anger in our downtrodden hearts melts away with the rising sun. Abdu stops to point out flowers of purple, blue, yellow, and bright pink winding their way down from steep cliffs, boulders, and switchbacks. “Zey grow down de mountain togezer slow, and we go ze same way.” He sees what we don’t in the cold morning shade with boundless patience as we descend.

The Lord said, “Ye are not able to abide the presence of God now, neither the ministering of angels; wherefore, continue in patience until ye are perfected,

(D&C 67:13).” This is good advice for all of us. (Cecil O. Samuelson)

I patiently await the day of return to climb Mount Kilamanjaro, with active hope that the opportunity to summit presents itself. Retrospectively I see that I was not prepared. Before this climbing experience I often took for granted many of the beauties around me, without taking the time to stop and take in the grandeur of my current position. While I still fall short, often anticipating the next step in climbing life’s mountain, I have learned to find joy in the journey up life’s mountains, enduring the storms and stopping to help others along the way. If I proceed patiently, I know God’s loving hand will guide me to the summit of all mountains…even if it takes a multiple attempts to summit.