the word "spelunking" doesn't do justice.

I drove a van full of eager students to the bottom of a mountain. Parked. Got out. We were told there would be a small hike to get to where we were going... boy were we deceived. Two hours and one new friend later we arrived to what we were told was our destination...

The hike was beauty. Such beautiful nature had been rarely seen by my eyes. My lungs took a hit though along with my body... I am not used to such steep terrain. I am surely out of shape. Panting ended a conversation. We hiked in silence for an hour and a half.

In time for lunch we sat on logs, dripping with sweat. We ate a feast of muffins and carrots... we indulged in the carbs because God (and our guides) knew we needed them.

Post lunch we suited up. Blue coveralls. Size extra extra large for giant me... and the crotch area hung below my knees. We adorned helmets and handy head lamps, along with gloves that could have been found laying around in my mother's garden.

Then it was time to climb a cliff with no harness. Finally we were standing at the mouth of the cave. Under 20 of us. Little did we know we would become some sort of a family forced together by delight as well as pain.

We crawled on our hands and knees into the dark. The last real light we would see for five hours.

We had signed up for the activity when given a choice. "Spelunking" I had written as my number one on my sign-up sheet. I like doing different and adventurous things even when I don't know exactly what they entail..

Mud everywhere. Now I knew the reason for the coveralls. For hours we scaled ravines and twisted our bodies into small spaces in order to press on. Only once could we stretch our bodies into standing positions. The rest of the time we were moving as crumpled human beings wedging our bodies through tight tunnels... if they could even be called such.

Once when we were standing, all smooshed together and bonding, our guide instructed us to turn off our head lamps and to be silent for as long as we could. I have never heard such a noise before. The noise of absolutely no noise at all. Silence. I have always been a strong believer in listening to God in the silence... we are too caught up with background noise in this generation.

During this time of complete and utter darkness we were not afraid. We knew the way out (albeit two hours back), we knew where to find the light. But sometimes life presents hard situations to those who do not know the way out... they do not know where the light is. And it is our job to show them.

We pressed on. Deeper and deeper into the cave we went. Walls coated in mud but with beautiful rock underneath. The rock had formed to look almost like water... so fluid and with tiny stalactites on the ceiling mimicking the dripping of water.

On and on we went, having the time of our lives, laughing and bonding.

The question came, "who wants to go further?" A challenge to my ears. Clearly I would not back down, it is not in my nature.

This next part was an option because of the extreme wetness and tight passage ways that we had to squeeze through... I used to count myself as claustrophobic (after an episode of my brother putting me in my "my size barbie" box and pushing me down the stairs..) but I have discovered that I am no longer haunted by the fear of tight spaces-- excitement and risk seem to drive me these days. 

Down a slide of wet mud we went into a pond of muddy water. Soaked and cold we trudged on (and by trudged I mean crawled). The first tight passage. We were instructed to go feet first. It was up hill and about two inches off my face. I made it through with adrenaline pumping. 

After pressing onward it was finally time to go back. I hurled myself back up the long, wet mud slide after going back through the tight passages and had to be tugged by a boy up a cliff because I was so tired. 

My coveralls were soaked in mud... I could have passed for a monster on Scooby Doo, which would have been funny except the fact that they weighed about 50 pounds... I don't even think I am exaggerating.

For hours we scooted through the cave back toward the entrance. It was extremely cold in the cave and our clothes were so heavy that frustration took over our thinking and we climbed and crawled in silence with secret tears escaping our eyes. 

Was this even the same day as the events of the morning? Were we, just a few hours ago, having the time of our lives. We grew closer as we learned to rely on each other for strength and encouragement. Silent prayers escaped my lips. 

Nearly five hours since we had entered the cave had passed when I smelled dirt. Dry dirt. Surely I had never felt this substance before... cool and dusty. So different than the mud I had been living in. Then a couple tight passage ways and I knew I was close. When I saw the light a tear escaped from my eye and I crawled faster (as fast as my 50 pound crotch-at-my-knees, no-longer-blue coveralls would let me). I made it out of the mouth of the cave... caked in mud but alive. We all breathed in the fresh air and collapsed on the cliff we were standing on. Laughter and exhaustion took over my universe in that moment. We all felt sheer unbelief at what had just happened.  

After ripping off our wretched coveralls we repelled down the cliff, exhausted. We hiked back to where we had abandoned our bags, put our muddy coveralls in them and hiked the two hours back to our vans. The last time I was in that van I had no idea what I was in store for.

At last the day was done. At last we felt safe again. We all clung tightly to the 15 new best friends we had made that day. The craziest thing I have done thus far in my twenty-one years of life: complete. I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

[1.before entering the cave 2. post-cave, note this is how dirty we were AFTER we took our 

coveralls off 3. "how we really felt in that moment"]