I should have listened. I knew better, but thought I knew better.
In June of 2017, I ventured out on my first multi-day backpacking trip. Not too many lengthy trails for such purposes are found within a 3-4 hour drive from home, but a good beginner trail is only a couple hours away. As part of the 1,000-mile Ice Age Trail, the section located in the southern section of Kettle-Moraine State Forest is ideal.
The trail itself is well-marked and covers more than 25 miles within the state forest. My plan was to begin at the southern entrance, hike up to Pinewoods Campground, and return. And even though hiking requires following the up-and-down contours of the kettles and moraines, the elevation gain isn’t all that significant. As I recall, the toughest climb came at the end of my second day, following the short but all-uphill spur path to the shelter.
It stormed fiercely that night. A heavy downpour beat on the shelter; strong winds blew the rain through the large opening, easily reaching my tent. The morning brought partly cloudy skies—and a wet trail!
Some sections required trudging through three or more inches of water. But that’s why you buy expensive waterproof hiking boots. Except mine somehow lost their waterproof barrier, and it wasn’t long before my socks were getting wet. The longer I walked, the wetter they got.
Uh-Oh!
Then I could feel it. Just a small, minor point of discomfort on my left foot. A tiny, tiny little pebble, maybe the size of a pinhead, had worked it’s way through my sock. “Not a big deal,” I told myself. “Doesn’t hurt. No pain. Keep going.”
But I was arguing with all the advice I’d read in preparing for this trip. I have a couple of extensive manuals on backpacking. Even enrolled in an online course through Backpacker magazine’s AIM Adventure U. Concerning my little spot of discomfort, everything I read gave the same advice:
Stop as soon as possible, take off your boot and sock, and find out what’s causing the issue.
Why? Because it won’t get any better…only worse. The tiniest speck of a pebble trapped in your sock will let your foot know it’s there. Your foot’s telling your brain, “Get rid of this annoying thing!” And if the brain ignores the foot, said pebble will create a blister. Then you’ll be sorry. Blisters can be quite painful, get infected, and sabotage an otherwise good hike.
The point? Lose a few minutes now to get rid of the culprit rather than losing much more in a few hours.
Well, my brain won the argument. The pebble won the war.
Two hours later, I sat down on a bench after hobbling the last half-mile. Boot and sock gone, there it was on the side of my big toe, a nasty blister staring at me as if to say, “I told you so!” And another on my heel. Another on the side of foot by my little toe. Didn’t notice the other two before, probably because the pain of the first was too intense.
I tried to do a little repair work on the blisters, applied some moleskin, and then rethought my plan. I scrapped the next six miles to the campground, opting to turn around and spend the night at a hostel about 2 miles back. In the end, I cut the whole trip short a day.
Should have listened.
A Memory Recalled
The memory of that lesson learned the hard way came flooding back when I read a statement by Thomas Manton:
Who will pity the man who complains of soreness and pain in walking, and yet doth not take the gravel out of his shoe?
And Charles Spurgeon’s follow-up comment:
Lord, make me to know wisdom. To this end, make me mindful of little things. Help me to look to the little stone, or tiny dust in my shoe, for this may cause me many a blister, and even lame me, so that I cannot hold on my way.
Sage Advice
Some ancient biblical advice along this line comes to mind.
Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards, for our vineyards are in blossom.
Song of Solomon 2:15 (ESV)
I’ve never had a vineyard or lived on a farm threatened by foxes, but the sense of this is clear, isn’t it? Another image along this line might be termites. Scary word, isn’t it? Termites? At first sign of these destructive little creatures, you’re calling the exterminator!
How about termites of the soul? Ever been eaten alive inside by a relatively little “wrong” someone committed against you? At first, it just miffed you a bit. But never getting over it, the pesty thoughts multiplied, and before long, you couldn’t stand to be around that co-worker anymore!
Many, many relationships have been destroyed by an accumulation of little things, like pebbles in the boot. Stop. Right away. Sit down, take off your shoe, and get it taken care of…now.
A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest, and poverty will come upon you like a robber, and want like an armed man.
Proverbs 6:10–11 (ESV)
Some of us tend to gravitate more easily to laziness than others, to be sure. How we’re wired has a great deal to do with it. But it can creep up on just about anyone if we’re not careful. Lack of enthusiasm for life…of motivation…of goals…of ambition. Maybe sleep isn’t the preferred expression of laziness. Perhaps it’s bingeing on television or the internet or video gaming or just about any leisure activity that displaces progress on tasks that require attention.
How many suffer from a chronic sense of longing and feelings of being a failure, wanting what will never be achieved, because of a little pebble that kept up its subtle harm to the soul?
Dead flies make the perfumer’s ointment give off a stench; so a little folly outweighs wisdom and honor.
Ecclesiastes 10:1 (ESV)
I suppose countless stories could be told of lives ruined, homes destroyed, friendships tanked, reputations tarnished—all because of the pebble of a “little folly.” Just a couple more drinks before getting behind the wheel. A little word of gossip passed on through the pipeline. A shady deal to make some fast money. A little lie that can’t stop growing. A one-night stand on a business trip. Or as one old song puts it, “An angry word spoken in haste, such a waste of two lives….”
A bit of personal reflection will likely send you in a couple directions.
First, faces come to mind, don’t they? People you know, perhaps very close to you, have suffered deeply and carry the scars of a “little folly.”
Second, “near misses” surface, too. Like foolishly riding in the back seat of a car as a teenager, having tried a couple of beers, behind a driver that had more than a couple and is a bit too sauced. Trying cigarettes…or pot…or worse. And so on. But the folly that could have been so destructive wasn’t. And you wisely realize that the proverb stands, though you experienced a “near miss.”
Do you not know that a little leaven leavens the whole lump?
1 Corinthians 5:6 (ESV)
The context of that statement is in the midst of dealing with a sin issue in the church at Corinth. The church had prided itself on being tolerant of flagrant immorality, instead of acting decisively to rebuke the erring member and expel him from membership if he remained unrepentant. Paul’s point, of course, is toleration on this point will certainly infect the church with a mindset that would tolerate about anything. In the end, the whole would be corrupted.
The principle extends beyond a local church setting, of course. Again, thoughtful people recognize this. Parents have experienced what happens when they give their child the proverbial inch. A mile later, they’re picking up the pieces. For example, mom tell little Johnny not to touch the TV screen. He turns, looks her in the eye, reaches out his hand, and touches the TV screen. Does mom get the pebble out of her shoe right then and there? Of does she look the other way, pretending not to see, because sitting down, taking off the boot and sock is just too much trouble. Later, she wonders why every instruction has to be given multiple times, usually ending up in a raised voice and elevated blood pressure.
So the advice stands.
Feel that little bit of discomfort, that pebble just ever so slightly pressing on the side of the big toe? Stop now. Sit down, remove the boot, the sock, the pebble.
Blisters sting!
