Taking One More Step

The great George Mallory, a legend in British climbing, attempted Mount Everest in the early ‘20’s. It is believed, by some, that he reached the very pinnacle of Everest, (an amazing 29,035 feet) to become the first man to set foot on the summit. Those who claim to know believe he was lost, or slipped on his way down. Other’s believe he died just short of his goal.    
 

     His body had never been found, or more precisely, had never been found ‘til recently. But in the last decade, one particular expedition was formed with the sole purpose of finding Mallory’s body.

     The climb was arduous, and other attempts had been unfruitful, in almost a century of searching for this fine climber. Many thought Mallory would never be found. There were just too many possibilities. Perhaps he had slipped and went off a sheer ice face, or died of hypothermia, and now lay beneath accumulated snow.

     But suddenly one of the expeditions members saw something. A wisp of fabric, brown hair fluttering in the wind, a shard of bone. As the expedition moved closer, it was becoming all too obvious. Here was a human body. But even this was not conclusive. For there are dozens of corpses on Mount Everest; many who have died in storms, or fallen off ledges, and the mountain has become their tomb.

     A couple of the team members stepped forward, and began to examine the body. Time was passing, and they could not linger. Those who linger on Everest… die. Team members began to retrieve bits of clothing from the body, and a few articles from the surrounding area. They took a moment to check the shirt neck, and… the clothing tag offered absolute proof. For there, sewn into the collar was a name – George Mallory!

     I have been concerned, well disappointed, that most members of our local recovery group members aren’t recovering. Granted, there are the successes. But there are more “lapses” and more that don’t find a way to “get clean” and “stay free.” As support group administrator, it’s too easy to feel “I don’t really count for very much,” that for all my trying, it’s a bit futile; (futile with the British accent.”)

     In my own dreams I see myself leading an expedition  up Mount Everest; people depending on my every word and move. The ice flows make for difficult climbing, and aluminum ladders must be tied together and stretched across deep crevices. Equally deep snow drifts slow the expedition, and rock outcroppings must be scaled. There is just so much time available to us. We must make the summit by early afternoon, or we'll be stuck on the mountain overnight. This would be an impossible scenario. The extreme cold of the Everest night is intolerable.

     I look behind me, and there are fewer of us now. Some have turned back, so much like Lot’s wife. I see them trudging back down the mountain. They were so close to the goal. I see others falling to their knees, unable to move any further, either up or down. And so like many who climb Everest, they exhibit symptoms of malaise, and sit down to die. So like “Old Mallory,” they are. So close, yet so far.

     But the summit hovers just above me. Oh, the beauty. Oh, the rapture of that peak. I will not give up, and I will take my remaining team members to the top. I cannot help those who have turned their backs on success. They have made their own choices. The wiles of the thicker air beckon them back to a more earthly (or earthy) existence. Their receding figures are growing smaller, and begin to disappear from my sight.

     It is too easy to turn back. It is too easy to give up when others turn back. Granted, it is so disappointing. But as leaders, we have a task to do. One special assistant of mine made a particular statement, when we first began “our climb.”

     “Our work with recovering addicts won’t be short or easy, but if only one gets clean and stays free, it will be worth it.” She might just as easily have said, “If only one reaches the summit with us, it will be worth it.”

      Don’t give up. Keep climbing. When you fall, get up. When you are out of breath, slow down, but don’t stop.

      Someone asked Sir Edmund Hillary, the first successful climber of Mount Everest, a poignant question:

     “What makes you any different than all the others who have attempted the mountain?”

       Hillary considered his answer a moment, and responded.

     “When I had climbed as far as I possibly could… I took one more step!”

     When we’re discouraged, disheartened and close to “chucking it all,” we have to “take that one more step.”

 By William McDonald, PhD. "Musings" Copyright 2010

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