Our Story: the value of encouragement

Atop Clingmans Dome

Over Labor Day weekend, the kids and I visited the Great Smoky Mountains. Here’s some thoughts that came to me while we were on our most demanding hike, yet. 

We visited our first National Parks Site over Labor Day weekend in 2015. Three years and 111 other NPS sites, we finally visited the most visited national park: the Great Smoky Mountains.

For the two days we were there, we covered nearly the entirety of the 800 square mile park: beginning in the western portion at Cades Cove, then to the central Sugarland area and Clingmans Dome (the highest point in Tennessee), down to the southern entrance at Oconaluftee, and over to the eastern edge at Cataloochee and its treacherous, winding, cliff’s-edge, gravel road entry way. Unfortunately, we never saw one of the estimated 1,600 black bears in the Park, but we did see an impressive bull elk.

The second half of our first day was spent hiking to Grotto Falls. It is one of the more popular hikes as it leads you up a tall waterfall that you can stand behind (hence “Grotto”). What was not shared was how steep the hike is going up to the falls and how challenging it is to navigate exposed tree roots, uneven rocky areas, and narrow passages along the mountainside.

Being the most-visited national park, and further, being that we visited on Labor Day weekend, not surprisingly, it was the busiest national park we’ve yet visited. Instead of getting away to the peaceful solitude of a natural preserve, there were easily over a hundred other people hiking to Grotto Falls or coming back from it.

I cut James loose to race on ahead while I stayed with Juliet, moving at her careful, measured pace. Hiking to the falls took us at least 80 minutes, with the return going much faster due to being downhill the whole way and ominous thunder motivating us to get to the truck before the rain came.

That pink dot in the lower center is Juliet

By the twenty-minute mark into the hike, Juliet was already complaining about how she was not enjoying herself. Asking, “how far, Dad,” and succinctly stating: “I hate hike.”

Not having ever been on the hike, and with the incline making it difficult to tell how fast we were moving, I would ask those returning from the Falls how much further we had to go. Unanimously, and regardless of where we were on the trail, the returning hikers would say, “Oh, it’s probably 5 or 10 more minutes,” or “not too much further,” even when in truth it was very much further.

Still, each passerby I talked to would give a word of encouragement to us. I would ask “is it worth it?” and everyone said “oh, yes. It’s cool.” Seeing Juliet obviously wanting to turn around, some would specifically address her to motivate her to keep going.

Her attitude notwithstanding, Juliet impressed me on this hike. As I said, it was our hardest one yet. If it wasn’t gnarly tree roots we were having to make sure we negotiated successfully, then it was a stream that we had to cross going rock-by-rock, or towards the end, it was just a boulder pile that we had to climb our way through.

Complaining all the way, Juliet nevertheless put her head down and kept moving forward. She would often talk to the passerbys returning and those who were ascending with us. Asking them their names, telling them that I’m “44,” sometimes commenting on their shoes or backpacks they were wearing.

In the Grotto at Grotto Falls

James patiently waited for us at the summit and then we all went in behind the falls. Mission accomplished, we started our way back, with much less guff from Juliet as the decline made it easier.

It was on the way back that I thought how different this life would be, particularly this journey we’ve had raising a daughter with Down syndrome, if throughout our course, we received the unanimous encouragement our fellow hikers gave us. Not a one said a negative thing or discouraged us from continuing on our way. All were supportive and positive to motivate us to continue on.

How different that would have been when Juliet was born if no one said “Oh, I’m so sorry” and instead said “Congratulations” (as many did, thankfully).

How easier it would have been when we met for Juliet’s 3d grade IEP if everyone at the table shared and supported our expectation that she should stay on the diploma track.

How much better the start of this school year would have been if her resource teacher from last year had said, “Juliet is right on track for that diploma, I mean, I passed her with a 3.0 average” instead of pulling Juliet’s mom aside and saying, “it’s fine that she’s on the diploma track for now, but you wait, she’ll switch to certificate in High School, she just won’t be able to keep up.”

Now, I know I’m being polyannaish in expecting nothing but positive and supportive remarks from all we encounter along the way. Increasingly, society has grown cynical, sarcastic, critical–indeed, I’m often rightly described with all of those adjectives (twenty years of lawyering can have that effect).

And, to be fair, very often sometimes we all need to hear something we take has cold or harsh. It’s a needed dose of tough love.

The fullness of Grotto Falls (the Grotto is at the very top of the picture)

But those instances still should be the exception and not the rule. And, when those comments are prompted by a discriminatory outlook based simply on my daughter’s diagnosis, instead of her capabilities, then they should not be said.

Like anything that is hard to do, the hike to Grotto Falls will be one we all remember from our trips to national parks. Similarly, the effort Juliet has shown in succeeding thus far in school is one that has made an impression on those who have worked with her and taught her. We have been blessed with many positive, supportive teachers, administrators, in-classroom aides, and peers.

Thank you to all of those who have encouraged us along our way and thank you as well to all who may have had a critical or discouraging thing to say, and instead chose to hold your tongue.

The Great Smoky Mountains