Rising Up Out Of The Tundra

In 2018 I visited the Rocky Mountain National Park. At some of the highest peaks the elevation is 11,000-12,400 feet. The wildflowers and succulents cover the tundra in the summer months. I was amazed at how delicate they seemed – tiny little flowers in bright purple, red and yellow, different than flowers you see in traditional gardens.

I took many photos of these wildflowers and could never quite capture the beauty I was seeing with my eyes. I was careful not to step on any of them and paid close attention to my feet to avoid the many clumps growing from under the rocks on the pathways. Amazing, tenacious, delicate little flowers.

As I journeyed farther up into the Rockies, I stopped at another viewpoint. Here there were signs posted that read, “Protect the Tundra. Stay on the Pathways.” There was also an informative kiosk at the front of the trail titled, “Tundra Protection Zone” which elaborated on the reason for requesting park visitors to stay on the trails and I quote, “This short trail crosses the tundra – a Russian word for “land of no trees.” Here, above the treeline, winds often exceed 100miles per hour (100km per hour) and temperatures remain below freezing for at least five months each year. Because of these harsh conditions and short growing season, tundra plant communities require centuries to mature. Decades re required for tundra to recover once it’s been trampled.”

After I left this place, I kept thinking about the tundra and the tenacious wildflowers. These mighty little flowers reminded me of many people I’ve been able to walk with in this life who gracefully endured difficult illnesses or tragic deaths of loved ones and continued to brighten the room and inspire people with their tenacity and beauty.

My thoughts turn to my brother-in-law, Joe. Lovingly referred to as “my Joey”. He was diagnosed with aggressive stage 4 Melanoma and given just months to live. I organized a party for him – a prayer party and celebration of his life while he could still be with us. About 80 of us gathered at a beautiful venue on Puget Sound. We enjoyed lunch, watched a slide show, listened to Joe's favorite music and, at Joe’s request, we all gathered in a circle and said the Serenity Prayer. Joe didn’t die.

He fought for 12 more years in his own Tundra. His own high winds and brutal conditions during invasive chemo treatments that ravaged his body, not to mention the mental storm he was enduring. He amazed me, and everyone. Joe’s doctors were baffled and stopped telling him when he should “get his affairs in order” because clearly his survival wasn’t something they could predict. They said more than once he wouldn't survive and he did.

Joe lived with us for over a year at the end of his battle. He would tromp up the stairs for morning coffee every day in spite of being incredibly ill. His skin was peeling and he was rail thin. He would have his coffee, crack jokes, tell my daughter and I how wonderful we were, and talk about what he would do at work that day with his brother. Amazing, tenacious, delicate human.

Joe had been trampled by his addiction earlier in life and he rose up from 'under that rock' to create a new life for himself. Then he was trampled again by cancer, but remained beautiful and powerful in his special “Joey” way. He inspired all of us to be grateful and live life to the fullest as he mustered the strength daily to endure what appeared to be torture and kept a smile on his face most of the time.

We all experience times in our own “harsh conditions” when it feels as if we are being trampled and may not survive. And we experience and witness rising up out of our own ‘tundra’ to provide beauty, inspiration, love and joy in the world in our own unique, colorful wildflower way.