BJ Holman
Copyright 2001
I work in a non-profit agency specializing in the area of teens and their families. We have an incredible array of services and opportunities for youth. There were 13 directors and administrators at the time of this story.
Our Executive Director decided that since she likes to hike, camp, get dirty, and go to the bathroom in the wide open spaces, that everyone enjoyed such things. I did enjoy doing those things when I was twenty, in perfect health, in good condition, was hearing, and most of all crazy. Nothing better than snuggling in the cold air with that special someone, but that was not what this adventure was all about.
The Executive Director decided we needed a get-together for a 5-year planning session. I had difficulty with making 5-year plans because I just develop programs as the need arises.
The Executive Director decided the great outdoors was just the environment for this planning session, and made the arrangements without consulting for specific needs. She was being nice and not bothering her directors with details. At this time, my lip reading skills were not very good, my balance was not good at all, and my confidence in the work force as the only HOH person with only hearing individuals was "shakeeee" at best.
The day arrived for this camping trip; I was all prepared, with two over the shoulder bags containing personal items, clothes for two days, paper and pens. I did not take a suitcase, because I knew we had to walk from the parking lot to the campsite. I didn't hear how far it was, but I didn't want to carry a suitcase.
The drive in the van was lots of fun, and I gave lots of energy away having fun. We arrived at the parking lot after an hour and a half. We unloaded the van, and all the while I'm looking around for the campsite. There were no other cars or vans. This was certainly beginning to seem funny to me. My thought of roughing it runs close to "No Room Service." But I am a Director and probably any where from 10-20 years older than the rest. I must be a senior leader, or at least a good sport.
"Where's the campsite?" I ask as we start out.
"Down there."
"Down where?"
"1.7 miles down there."
"ONE POINT SEVEN MILES DOWN THERE?? HOW DO WE GET THERE???"
"Walk."
"ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT I HAVE TO WALK 1.7 MILES DOWN THIS DAMN MOUNTAIN? HOW DO I GET BACK UP??"
"Walk."
Okay, first things first. I get the two shoulder bags in a position so I can use my hands. I may just have to grab on to something for support or to break my fall. A Native American must have cut the trail down that mountain. Whoever it was did not want to waste much of the land with a wide path. The gravel on the paths was not good for someone with poor balance, but, thank goodness, I did have on hiking boots, rather than the usual tennis shoes. Often the path would be in a U shape. Right in the middle of the U, as you make a turn, the world makes a big shift, dizzy -- have to regain the balance. Other times it was an S-shape curve and some of those places were very close to the edge of a drop-off. My heart pounded with fear, and sweat poured.
Their chatter is distracting my focus. Do I turn this hearing aid off, or do I keep it on in case I fall, and I can hear myself scream? Ok, God, I know You will give me no more than I can handle.
"DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO CLIMB DOWN THAT LADDER NAILED TO THE WALL? I CAN'T SEE THE BOTTOM. YOU MEAN I HAVE TO BACK DOWN THAT LADDER?"
"Yes, BJ."
Hey, God, this is it, ain't it. This the biggest, isn't it?!!!!
A few hours later we arrive at the bottom of that 1.7-mile mountain. My legs are shaking, the blood sugar a little bit low. But no broken bones and I'm only mildly manic since I made it down. Thank goodness, there was time to stand for a moment enjoying the beauty. My teammates seemed to enjoy the beauty on the way down. Me, I just hugged every tree.
Into the lovely cabins we did go. Remember, No Room Service is a tough row to hoe for old BJ; through the door and what do I see? Nothing but rows of bunks with very thin mattresses over wooden planks. Ok, I can sleep on anything for one night. Gotta go to the restroom. As I put the two bags on my bunk, I looked for the "John." Unless there's some button on a wall that pushes a door open, I don't see one.
"Hey, Gang, where's the restroom? WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT IS UP ON THAT HILL? YOU MEAN EVERY TIME I HAVE TO GO PEE, I GOTTA WALK UP A HILL?" Ahh, testing me, aren't you. God, surely this is it.
After a brief time to check out the beauty that God created, it was dinnertime, then on to 5 hours of work. Dinner was not room service and does not deserve any comment. I was starving so it was okay. After the meal, we took a short break to center ourselves for the work ahead.
We gathered in a circle on the porch. The crickets were screaming in my hearing aid; I don't know if they were alive or not. (Tinnitus is bad when anxious). I was just a bit tired from the walk down that 1.7-mile path.
We began our work out on the porch, all 13 of us, ready to go. As we began, I noticed the sun was going down and I needed more light to lip read.
"Where do you turn on the light? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY DON'T HAVE ELECTRICITY? YOU MEAN THEY DON'T HAVE ANY LIGHTS? I'M SUPPOSED TO BE IN A BUSINESS MEETING WITH NO LIGHTS. HOW AM I GOING TO READ YOUR LIPS IF I CAN'T EVEN SEE YOUR FACE?" Ok, God, this is just a bit much, sorry, all I know to do is CRY, CRY. You mean I gotta sit in the dark and not hear a word? One and only time I experienced what it must be like for deaf and blind. Just a very scared feeling and almost helpless. What now?"
The lower the sun, the darker it got, and the less I received of the important information I seemed to need to run a department. I could see the faces of my colleagues as we did the best we could--pain, sympathy, fear, concern--reflections of my face. Then out of the blue, one woman speaks up.
"BJ, do you think you can lip read if we shine a flash light on our lips while we talk?"
"I don't know but I'll try anything." Please, God, don't let me crack, someone has just reached out, give me the strength to reach back.
For the next 4 or 5 hours my colleagues, and I sat in a circle, passing a flashlight around, shining that "Little Light of Mine" on their lips as they talked. When I shared we turned the light out, and we were the same, for I could hear my voice and none could see. Don't remember much about the 5-year plan, but I sure remember the bonding that took place between 13 women who were willing to come together and make it happen for all.
About 10 pm, I announced to the colleagues, "I CAN'T LIP READ ANY MORE. IF YA'LL DECIDE SOMETHING THAT WILL AFFECT MY DEPARTMENT, PLEASE WRITE IT DOWN." We had a group hug for we had truly come together as a group for those 4 or 5 hours.
Around, 3 am, Mother Nature called, "BJ, the hill, you haven't tried the hill." Ah, do I have to, haven't I had enough? Something inside, says, "Depends on where you want this pee to go." Heck, I'll just go in the grass. I can surely get out without falling, I have my "Little Light of Mine".
Slowly I get off that plank, with a very thin mattress. Carefully, I begin to thread my way through the bunk beds. I make it about 3 or 4 steps, just far enough and not close enough. "SHIT, THE FLASHLIGHT WENT OUT!!!!!" (Sorry, no other word would do). I freeze in panic. Which way was I going, where did I come from? One false move and I'll break my neck, along with a colleague's, as I fall.
WHAT NOW, NOW WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO, I'M THE OLDEST ONE IN THIS GROUP. CAN'T I EVEN GO PEE BY MYSELF?!!!! Tiny voice inside says, "Not this time."
"Sherry, Sherry! Hey Sherrry, SHERRY I NEED YOU." Six flashlights come on. "Hell, ya'll I gotta go and my flash light went out." All 6 lights went out. Bless their hearts I know they tried not to ROTFLMAO, but I'm not so sure they were successful. I was deaf and blind at that point.
Finally, my friend Sherry comes to my rescue. With her flashlight in hand we begin to climb the hill. We were all over that hillside getting to the top. We walked a few steps, stumbled, walked a few more and giggled, walked a few more, and tripped, neither of us very good in the dark. I'm deaf, not sure of her excuse. I didn't have to do much once we finally got there, other than just clean up a little.
We got back safely and settled down for a couple of hours, that is, as settled as one can be on a hard plank. The first light of day, I was out of there. Most of my colleagues were sawing the logs. Oh, what a beautiful morning it was. I walked down by the creek and thanked God, You, know I did make it down the mountain in one piece, I read lips for 4 or 5 hours, I even made it up the hill to pee, surely and thankfully, I have passed the test. No, more trials, no more hard times. Thank you God, for this gift.
As I walked along, something said, "You ain't up that mountain, yet." Oh, No, I forgot I gotta climb back up that 1.7 mile mountain.
There ain't no mountain too high to climb, so you say, well let me tell you about this little mountain of mine. So exhausted I was that fine sunny morning. But for some ungodly reason I thought it would be easier to climb up that mountain. Wrong, wrong, wrong ...
Get the picture; I was totally exhausted from all the energy spent on the last 24 hours. After a breakfast of not enough to remember, we started our walk out. Here I am with those two bags thrown over my back so I could use my hands if need be, and the need would certainly be. The first thing to navigate was a three-foot wide mud puddle. Under normal conditions that would be a piece of cake for this girl, but this was not normal under any circumstances for me. I was ready for ROOM SERVICE.
In my mind I shout, "GOD, I CAN'T DO ANYMORE." Suddenly I hear a voice.
"Give me one of your bags," a colleague says. "Here, BJ, let me get in front and give me your hand."
"Ya, BJ," comes another voice. "Let me get behind, we'll get you over the mud puddle. Let's walk together." Up ahead the rest of the group waited and smiled and cheered. Couldn't hear them, but I could see them. We got across that mud puddle and began that incredible climb.
The paths were so narrow, my balance was worse than going down. I could see nothing other than what was in front of me the group and trail...had to totally concentrate on my walking so that I would not fall. As we would round one of those U or S, I would start to lean toward what I was seeing. A drop off, but as I would start to lean, my friend's hand would come out so that I could see and I would regain my balance.
Once the tension and concentration was so great that as I rounded a curve, the Executive Director turned, and looked at me, we just stopped on that trail and fell into each other's arms and sobbed. About half way up the mountain, I looked down, and there lay the most beautiful stick. One of my friends had left it on the path for me to use, the rest of the way up that mountain.
We started the day before as a group of directors and administrators. When we reached the top, on that fall morning, we were a TEAM OF DIRECTORS AND ADMINISTRATORS.
On that mountain climbing experience, my motto came to me: "Turn Challenges Into Opportunities." The mission statement for the agency became: "To Work In Partnership With Teens, Their Families, and the Community: To Meet, Master, and Embrace the Challenges of Adolescence." The key phrase is "To work in partnership."
Thank you for letting me share this mountaintop experience. I'll climb the mountain, just don't make me jump off.
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