Jordan stood alone, a third of the way along the length of the log. Her feet were close together, where her small steps had halted. One hand
extended out for balance, the other lightly touched her safety line, not so much for support but to reassure herself that it was there. Nervously, her
eyes darted between the tree she was trying to reach, fifteen feet in front of her, and the ground, twenty feet below.
I knew that Jordan could complete the challenge. I had talked to her a few minutes earlier, explaining how she and her campmates could safely walk up the inclined log, cross the tight rope, and join me on a platform forty-two feet above ground, before dropping off the tree to take a giant swing back and forth through the canyon. She had stated her goal and was set on completing it.
Now, from my perch on the platform, I watched her confidence slipping as the feeling of solitude crept in.
I asked Jordan how she was feeling as I switched my safety system and walked across the cable to the tree she was trying to reach. Before she finished saying she was scared, I was perched at the end of the log.
Nothing major had changed. The log was still steep and Jordan was still high above the ground. The subtle difference, that there was now a person waiting at the goal, reminded her of other things that were unwavering. Jordan was reminded of the facilitator that stood below her, attentively minding the rope that would keep her airborne if she should fall. She heard, again, her counselor and friends encouraging her and sharing how they too had been nervous.
Slowly, she began to walk again. As she neared me she gained speed and confidence, even as she climbed higher. Together we walked across the cable to the platform.
As I hooked her into the swing, we talked about how, even when you have faith, it is difficult to trust what is not immediately apparent.
Her confidence bolstered by her conquest of the log, the cheers of her friends, and reassurances of her safety, Jordan dropped from the platform, the cool forest air whistling past her ears as she laughed in triumph.
- Greg Tripp
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