Mountaintop

Let’s talk about victory for a moment. That mountaintop we’re after.

It’s my namesake. Victoria means victory. That’s why I go by “Tory” with a y for short. I like to think of it as my way of linking my name to my namesake whenever I use it. I was born in the mountains in a bit of a hurry -emergency C-section 8 weeks premature. In my Dad’s best storytelling, the doctor said, “You’ve got 2 minutes, so you might want to come up with a name.” And out they pulled this hand-held size babe: me. “Vickie-bird” as my 2-year-old brother cutely dubbed be. We lived in Victor, Colorado.

Victor, CO

my old home on Victor Ave.

My Dad was in the middle of his artistic project, the Victorian Days of Victor, (view his work on his website). This story has a lot to do with my Dad, but let’s not forget the life my Mom has brought to me, both then and now. I could talk about the healing power of physical presence and touch here too, as it took a lot to keep me alive in those early weeks. But this posting is about mountaintops. So, Pike’s Peak is the mountain on which Victor is settled. The smallest of the Colorado Rockies snow-capped peaks. When I was a spunky younling Dad took me to the top, lead by our lifetime friend and guide, Dale who knew that mountain better than anyone. He’d built his log home by hand on the goldmine where he’d staked a claim, which became an amethyst mine, and finally, his junk-car collection site, and upon his passing the claim was returned to the state. Well, we hiked it on foot with the marmots. I loved every minute. Except the top. It was foggy that day so we couldn’t see anything. I got altitude sickness (might show a little in my picture, still kept in the tag on the vest I wore for that hike). pikestag

Now I live in Michigan, where the closest thing to a mountain is at least 10 hours’ drive north, in the foothills called the “porkies” -don’t get me wrong, I’d happily get lost hiking in the Porcupine Mountains as well. But they don’t have, well, mountaintops. And that’s what we’re after, right? Victory. Full-blown, mountaintop exhilaration. Conquering. A view to show for the effort.

Now, we might need to talk about Lyme disease. We will. But for now, suffice it to say that the victory is in the fog. The mountaintop is there, I trust. I will get there. It’s my namesake. Heaven will be the ultimate healing, victory, mountaintop of mountaintops. In this life, I’m not sure where to hike next as I battle Lyme. It’s probably time for a new doctor, and to evaluate treatments, and the road ahead. Maybe it’s time to take a trip back to that peak, to feel that life again. Maybe it’s time to appreciate the hills, valleys, and even road (it is a lot easier to walk on flat road, especially when chronically dizzy!) of where I am now. In Michigan. The really-part-time Church Services Coordinator of CLC Network, homemaker Mom, wife, daughter, friend, blogger, “lymer”.

I’ll say “huzzah!” to that –little victories. Maybe not the splendor of snow-peaked Rockies, but glory nonetheless. Victory of the day: found some gratitude. For who I am, where I’ve been, who has been with me, for soft blankets and chilly wind and sunbeams filtering through green leaves (Michigan’s glory). For at least some treatments that make me feel “icky” -showing me they are probably fighting the Lyme. And the chance to express it.

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