Woman, Don't Speak

      I hold to a complementarian worldview of gender roles. I believe that God made us male and female and that we have separate roles that are meant to complement each other. I believe that wives should submit to their husbands and that husbands should love their wives as Christ loves the church. I believe that the title of pastor is reserved for men, but that doesn't mean women can't be leaders. I believe that men and women are equally image bearers of God and that our heavenly Father does not see one sex as lesser than the other. I believe we are all gifted in different ways and that we should use those gifts to bring glory to God. I believe both men and women should learn solid theology and that we should serve one another, calling each other to holiness.

     But I have also seen how complementarianism has been twisted by some into toxic patriarchy, where women are not equal image bearers, but are instead seen as less than. Where "wives submit to your husbands" is twisted to "women submit to men". Where "only men can hold the office of pastor" is twisted to "only men can be leaders of any kind". Where a woman's lesser than status means she cannot even speak in mixed company as she might be trying to teach men. Where being submissive means being a silent doormat who cannot make decisions. Where a woman's role is diminished to peaceful, homemaker only and any woman who deviates from that is looked down upon. This is wrong and disgusting and has no place in God's kingdom.

Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

     At our old church I experienced this toxic patriarchy, not from the church as a whole, but from a few, and from one person in particular who would go on to hold a leadership role and ultimately played a role in our eventual departure.  It eventually got to the point where I didn't want to be in the same room as this person because of how he treated me. When we first started at our former church I was working full time in an office job and our kids attended public school, which were automatically two strikes against me. I also had attended Women's School at Sojourn a few years prior which Aaron has said was like a mini-seminary and I learned quite a bit of theology. I was outspoken with my beliefs and my knowledge and I was pretty confident in who I was a woman. As I sit here now processing what happened I am just now realizing how so much of that was beaten out of me over our time there.

    Sometimes the toxic beating was subtle - a comment about my parenting or housekeeping skills. The feeling of judgement because I worked and wasn't always available to serve at every event. The feeling of isolation from the other pastors' wives. The comments made about me to my husband. The expectation to fit a mold of what everyone else thought a pastor's wife should be. The slyly hidden "rebukes" for things I let my kids watch or read or listen to that were just judgements hiding behind a farce of caring.  But sometimes the toxic patriarchy was blatant and in my face and I was met with it early in our time there.  

    When we first started attending this church we joined an adult Sunday School class that was geared towards couples. The class was led by a couple, the husband being the person who would end up causing our family the most hurt. Aaron and I attended together for the first few weeks, but it didn't take long before Aaron was pulled into serving and I was left to attend alone. Eventually I found excuses to not attend because I could not handle the way this man treated me, and women in general.

     This man led the class, which was meant to be a time of discussion, as more of a lecture in which he was the professor. And it quickly became clear that if HE asked a question, especially an academic or theological one, he expected a man to answer it. Women were free to answer the questions asked by his wife or the "feelings" type questions, but not the deep, theological questions. There were several occasions when this man would ask an academic or theological question and I would answer, often correctly, but my answer would be ignored only to have a man in the room give almost the same answer and that man would be praised. It didn't take long for me to realize that my voice was not valued in that room, so I just stopped going. 

     In the beginning, it was easy to just avoid this man. I served in different ministries and he was not yet in leadership, so was not in our close circle. When Aaron first started serving in leadership, first as an intern and then eventually being on staff, we were serving with other couples. But over time these couples would leave to serve in other churches and eventually our circle included him.

    I wasn't the only woman to have issues with this man. His view of women was that we were hysterical and emotional and not to be trusted. When he would hurt a woman, he had to be forced to apologize and then the woman was expected to immediately forgive him. His view of masculinity was rough and rugged and honestly toxic and he was very quick to judge any man who didn't fit that idea. He was legalistic and would often prescribe his preferences, that's to say he would teach (or preach) his personal preferences or conscience as if it was biblical law. He was a man who had decent orthodoxy (beliefs/theology), but lacked greatly in orthopraxy (biblical practice) and did not see the importance of treating people, especially women, well.

     As this man was brought into the circle of leadership at the church, my distaste for him only grew. He was extremely critical of my husband and rarely in ways that were edifying. I found myself being angry at him a lot, because of the way he treated my husband and how he treated me and other women. And when "the event" occured in 2020, the event that eventually led to us leaving the church, his attitude towards me was dismissive, at best - he only ever spoke to Aaron and it was always in a "man, why can't you control your woman" tone. This man had issue with things I had said, but never once came to me about those issues, he only EVER spoke to Aaron. I felt as though I wasn't worthy to even be spoken to, as if my voice did not matter, and I was just an out of line, hysterical woman who had forgotten her place.

     I don't think I fully understood just how much I allowed to be taken from me until I sat down and actually started writing it all out. When we started attending that church I was a different person and let me tell you, I really miss her. I allowed other people's judgements and criticism to creep into my subconscious and I put on a mask. I allowed other people's treatment (or mistreatment) of me and my husband to take root in my heart making me angry and bitter. I allowed fear of what other people thought of me to silence my voice and make me feel like I didn't have anything of value to offer. I allowed who I truly was to be squashed and beaten out of me. By the time we left the church, I didn't recognize the woman in the mirror any longer.

     My hope is two-fold through this process. First, I hope to give some validation to the other women, especially pastors' wives, who have gone through something similar. I want those women to know they are seen and known and not alone. Secondly, I hope to find that woman I used to be. The woman who was excited about her faith and had a voice willing to speak and share all the Lord had done for her. The woman who knew who she was and wasn't afraid to just be herself. The woman God made me to be and who didn't feel like she had to meet some arbitrary standard that someone else set. I hope to find me again and in doing so reclaim my love and passion for the creator who made me. It's so messy and painful and sometimes it's hard to find the right words. And the fear and doubt and judgement and all the other mess still creep in and I just have to acknowledge that they are there and keep moving forward. 

     I've spent so many years suffering in silence, speaking of what happened to only a few people. Our exit from our former church felt abrupt to many, but there was so much that happened behind the scenes that so few knew about. I've held onto this anger and bitterness for too long. I'm ready to be free and this is how I move towards that freedom. I will not be silent and I will not hide anymore. I will share what happened and I will move on. I will process the hurt in the way that makes sense to me, which is writing it down and putting it all out there. And I trust that God is going to bring beauty from the ashes and he will restore.

Less Than

      Yesterday, we went to the funeral home to visit with a family from our old church whose father/grandfather recently passed. While we were there we ran into several people from our old church. There were lots of hugs and "we miss you guys" and "how are the kids". We ended up spending almost two hours there catching up with old friends. It was a nice time, even if I was exhausated by the end and my voice was shot. 😁

     As we were driving home, Aaron asked me how I was doing after seeing so many people from the place that has been a great source of hurt for me. I could honestly answer that I was doing okay. It was nice to see everyone and pretty much all the people who caused me hurt have since left the church. I told him that there was really only one point when bad memories were stirred up and it's one the hurts that I haven't wanted to write about yet because I'm still processing it. So I'm going to tackle another "easy" one.

    Aaron and I enjoy the occasional adult beverage. We enjoy touring bourbon distilleries and having a nice drink out during date night. And of course I have been known to post pictures on social media, because that's what people do. We believe that drinking alcohol is a case of personal conviction - drinking alcohol itself is not a sin, but drunkeness is, so we always drink in moderation.

     Back when Aaron first started interning at the church, the topic of alcohol came up in a conversation with our pastor. Our pastor agreed that drinking is not a sin, but he told Aaron that we needed to take down all pictures or references to alcohol from our social media. We could still drink as our conscience permitted, but we just couldn't let anyone know about it.

     So we spent our vacation that year going through YEARS of social media posts to hide any picture of a distillery tour or post of a selfie with a drink on the table. I also had to be mindful anytime I took a picture from that point on to make sure there wasn't any alcohol in the background or if we were somewhere with alcohol, like a bar or distillery, I couldn't actually tell anyone where we were. I remember being so angry and not hiding my frustration from Aaron. I thought it was stupid that while our pastor agreed drinking alcohol is not a sin, we hide to remove it as if it was. But I still did it, even if begrudgingly, because that's what a good pastor's wife does. She submits to her husband and church leadership and does whatever is necessary to help her husband fulfill his calling.

     This was the first time I remember feeling like I had to hide parts of who I am. It was communicated to me, whether intentionally or unintentionally, that there was an image I was expected to put forth and there were parts of me that did not fit that image and thus were not good enough. I had to be one person in public and a different person in private. When no one was around, I could be my full self, but if anyone was around, I was expected to wear a mask and fit the mold.

Photo by Motoki Tonn on Unsplash

     Over the years, this feeling that I wasn't good enough and that I had to hide parts of myself would just continue to grow. When I would walk into church, I had to make sure my "face" was on. I had to be careful of the words I spoke. I could never be truly open or vulnerable with other members because then they might see those "less than" parts of me. The Lisa our church saw was not the real Lisa, because the real Lisa was not good enough.

     This last year as been a time for me to find the real Lisa again. I have worked on being real, and not apologizing for who I am. I have tried to stop hiding parts of myself and accept the parts that for so long I was made to feel were "less than". I still have a ways to go, but I'm making my way back to me. I'm hoping that when I find myself again that I will be able to see that I am exactly who God made me to be. I'm hoping that at the end of this journey I will be able to crash that mold that I've been attempting to squeeze myself into and be fully and uniquely me. 

Can't Measure Up

      The challange before me is to name the hurts done to me and to not try to find my mistakes or somehow justify another person's mistreatment of me. This is going to be hard and will be painful at times, so I'm going to start with an "easy" hurt.

     Five years ago we were packing up our Louisville house to move to Southern Indiana because we felt called to live in the community where we attended church. One day, several folks from church came over to help us load up furniture to move to storage, including our pastor and his wife. After our couches were moved out of the living room, we saw several Lego bricks and other small toys among the normal stuff you find under a large piece of furntiture. So my pastor's wife and I sat on the floor for several minutes picking out the items that need to be saved before sweeping up the trash.

     Nothing was said to me directly, but sometime later Aaron, who was interning at the church, and our pastor were meeting and my pastor raised concerns about my house-keeping abilities. He commented that he could tell that I had never swept under our couch. I feel like other things were said, but the comment about never swepping under my couch is what stuck and I still think about it sometimes.

    I felt attacked on several fronts - my ability to be a homemaker, my cleanliness, my worth as a pastor's wife. I felt like I was being compared to this crazy standard and I was never going to measure up. I was also pissed as all get out. How dare he question my ability based on what it looked like UNDER my couch?

     I won't say this started the feeling that I wasn't a very good pastor's wife, but it definitely added to it. This was just one other way that I wasn't good enough and just one more way for me to compare myself to the other pastors' wives. I worked outside the home and none of them did. They all homeschooled their kids or sent them to private Christian school and at the time my kids went to public school. They always wore dresses or cute outfits and makeup to church and some days I barely could get out the door in a matching outfit and my hair was almost always in a ponytail and I hardly ever wore makeup. My kids watched a lot of TV and listened to non-Christian music (still do) and their kids had limited screentime and only listened to praise music. And the internal list went on and on.

Photo by Crazy Cake on Unsplash

    So much of my time at our old church was spent feeling like I was on constant display. I felt like I was always being judged and that I never measured up. I never felt like I could be my full self because my full self wasn't good enough. I had to hide parts of who I was to put forth the image of what they wanted in a pastor's wife. And because I was hiding parts of myself, I never felt fully seen or known and thus always felt isolated and alone. I wanted to be liked and I wanted people to respect Aaron, so I tried hard to play the part, but it was EXHAUSTING.

     Real talk - I think deep down I felt some relief when everything blew up last year and we left the church (more about that at another time). After years of hiding, I could be me again - hot mess, sometimes foul-mouthed, awkward me. I didn't have to play a part anymore, I could be real again. I was released from the glass box that had been holding me on display for so long.

     As we consider Aaron going back into vocational, paid ministry, I will admit I'm scared. I'm scared that I will have to hide again. I'm scared that I will not deal with my issues and will just end up back in the exhausting cycle of trying to please people by hiding who I am even though all I want is to be seen and known and thus I will feel like I don't measure up and alone, so I'll hide more of myself and play the part more and feel even less seen and less known and on and on and on.

     I don't know what the future holds for us and I don't honestly know what it will take for me to break the cycle, but I'm hoping this process will help. I'm hopeful that if I can be honest and name the hurts and honestly acknowledge my fears, that I can finally be free of that pressure. I'm hopeful.

Permission Granted

      Yesterday we met with our pastor. We met with him because Aaron thinks he wants to go back into paid vocational ministry and we both know that we need to work through and make sure we deal with what happened at our last church. Neither one of us wants to take that hurt and baggage into the next place and then cause hurt or pain there. We know that we need to process and deal with what happened.

     What I THOUGHT was going to happen: We would go in, share what happened, admit to the areas we failed, be given some practical steps to process, think through ways to handle conflict and hard things in the future and eventually be sent out by our church.

     What ACTUALLY happened: I was asked what I want. I admitted to my fears of not being good enough - a good enough Christian, a good enough pastor's wife, a good enough woman, etc. I was given permission to name the hurt done to me WITHOUT looking for ways I had been wrong. I was reminded that following after Jesus is not meant to be full of pressure and I was given permission to stop doing things out of obligation and guilt. I was given permission to figure out what I want and that I do not have to fit some arbituary definition or mold of "pastor's wife".

      At one point, my pastor point-blank asked me why I kept pointing out the mistakes I made that I thought caused me to be hurt. I think I may have physcially pushed back against the sofa as I contemplated that question. After a few moments, I answered that part of it is growing up in the shame culture of the south, I was taught to find my blame in any situation.

     Later, Aaron and I were processing out loud our conversation and I realized that deep down I think I am justifying other people's mistreatment of me. As if in some way, I deserve the hurt or the wrong or the suffering. Because I am not good enough, it is somehow okay for others to mistreat me.

     Something that my pastor said still has me a little shook: "You don't have to repent for suffering." For so much of my life, I have been taught that I am a wretched sinner and the consequences of that sin is suffering. I'm just now beginning to realize that I believe I deserve to suffer because I have failed and because I have sinned.

      Suffering is not a sin. 

      It is not on me to repent of another person's sin. It is okay to acknowledge when and name how someone has hurt me. It is okay to admit that the situation at our last church was at times abusive. And I don't have to repent for any of that.

     My pastor has encouraged me to spend some time and actually name the hurts. Not list the mistakes I made, not justify someone else's actions. Just name the hurts. To give myself permission to see the hurt and the wrong for what it was. To release the pressure I have been putting on myself.

     So that is what I am going to attempt to do. Over time, I'm going to name the hurts. I am going to own the fears that have been weighing me down. I am going to seek to find myself again. I am going to take back my voice and my choice. 

     It is not going to be easy. I am using new muscles and it will be painful, but like my pastor, I'm curious to see who I will be once I feel fully seen and known. 

     Be patient with me, I am a work in progress, but I am just that, in progress.

Photo by Florian Klauer on Unsplash

     

A Lonely Introvert

     There are things about me that I think make it hard to be my friend.

     Big crowds cause me anxiety. I hate social situations where I don't know anyone and have to force myself to attend social functions. More times than I can count I have said something awkward or socially inapproriate or overshared. Often I will make the conversation about me (I really don't mean to and many times I don't realize it until after the fact). I am a work-from-home mom who also homeschools and has a child with multiple medical and other non-typical needs. I am an introvert who most of the time prefers being alone or with my immediate family because being around too many people can drain me of all my energy. 

     I am also lonely A LOT. When most people hear "introvert" they think: shy, doesn't like people, only wants to be alone, etc. And yes, there are times when I would rather be alone, but it is not because I dislike people or never want to be around others, it's just that I need alone time to recharge and reset. I want to be included, but it is hard for me to initiate a social hang-out. So, I end up sitting on the sidelines watching the people in my life do all the things I wish I was included in.

     Another thing about me that makes it hard to be my friend: I'm a worse-case scenario type of person and unfortunately I have a bad tendecy to take things personally. I also hold things in and won't tell you if my feelings have been hurt. How this plays out in my friendships, I will see friends hanging out together and immediately question why I wasn't invited and think there is something wrong with me and that my friends don't actually like me, but I won't ever say anything to anyone. So I end up in this vicious cycle of wanting to be included, feeling left out when I'm not included, thinking that I'm not included because of some character flaw, and keeping silent about it all, which means my friends don't realize I want to be included, so I'm not included.

     Whenever I get in this cycle, I try to remind myself that I'm not being intentionally left out. I will go through all of the logical reasons as to why I wasn't included: a friend is hanging out with her other friends and I'm not really friends with those people, my work schedule doesn't allow much flexibility during the week, my youngest has therapy four days a week, I've never indicated to said friends that I wanted to be included in the activity, if I really want to hang out I could pick up the phone. Sometimes this helps and I can see the irrationality spiral I am heading towards, but then there are times when all the logical reasons in the world can't keep me from spiraling into self-loathing loneliness.

     I finally said out loud a while ago that I am lonely. I was talking to the hubby and finally said how much it hurts when I see my friends hanging out and I'm not included. We talked for a while and he reassured me that it's nothing against me and helped me think about steps I can take to be more included.

     One of the things I have been doing lately is pushing myself outside my comfort zone and going to more social events. My church offers Women's School a few times a year, and I've signed up for it each time. Each time I am with a different group of women, which is pushing me to spend time weekly with people I normally wouldn't. I also plan on attending a Mom's Night Out later this month, something I normally wouldn't do. I don't love being in these kinds of social situations, but I'm trying to push myself out of my comfort zone.

    I am also trying to simply say yes more often. Because of my social anxiety and introvertness (is that a word?) I have a bad habit of making excuses to not do something. It doesn't make sense, but even though I want to be included, sometimes the thought of being in an uncomfortable situation also seems so overwhelming that it's just easier to make an excuse and say no. Then I end up hating myself for being left out. Again vicious cycle. So, I'm trying to say yes and not make excuses.

     Finally, I'm trying to speak out more. Just this week, I walked into a social setting and saw a friend who I hadn't seen in a while. She seemed so geniuely excited to see me and it really meant a lot to me. On the way home, I mentioned it to Aaron and said, I think I should tell her how much it meant to me. So, when we got home, I sent her a message letting her know that it meant a lot to me and that I had been really lonely and needed to feel wanted. It wasn't much, but it had a two-fold benefit. First, it let my friend know how awesome she is (because let's face it, she is), but it also pushed me to say the hard things. Yes, it was a good thing, but it was still hard. I had to be vulnerable and admit that I was lonely. 

    So here are some of the hard things I struggle to say: I want to be a better friend. I want to be the person other's think of when they are planning something. I want to be included. I don't want to be alone. I want to be seen.

     Social gatherings do give me anxiety, but I also want to be included. I need space to recharge by myself, but I don't always want to be alone. I am introvert, and I am lonely. 

We are going to be THOSE parents

      We have never really been the kind of parents to think "oh that will never happen to us." We discuss worst case scenarios with our kiddos on a regular basis. We have talked about what to do if someone tries to take one of them or what to do if someone stops their car in the neighborhood asking one of them, a kid, for help. We have talked about what to do if they are at a friend's house and they begin to feel uncomfortable or someone wants them to do something they feel is wrong. We've discussed what to do if they get lost at Disney World or the zoo or a theme park. We talk about what to do if they get lost in a crowded store or if we get separated in a crowd. But never, in all of these worst case scenario discussions, have we ever talked about what to do if they get lost in the woods.

     This week we rented a cabin at a state park and got off grid for a couple days. Upon arrival, we unloaded, set up our cabin, and decided to go explore before dinner since it was still early. We cut through the woods from our cabin and linked up with one of the trails and walked for about half a mile, exploring our surroundings. The temp was starting to drop, so we decided to turn around and head back to the cabin before it got too late. The plan was to eat some dinner and then have a game night. The big kids ran ahead, which didn't concern us because we hadn't gone far and there were 3 cut throughs to get to the cabins from the trail. 

     We got back to the cabin and neither big kid was there. We weren't worried, just figured they missed the first cut through and were just further down the trail. Aaron put down the baby and headed back to the trail to call the kiddos back. Our son came into the cabin and then a few minutes later Aaron came in asking if our daughter was back. S still hadn't shown up, so Aaron told me to suit up and come help him look because he could not see her anywhere on the trail. I put my shoes and sweatshirt back on and followed Aaron out to the trail, leaving E and the baby at the cabin. Aaron rushed ahead calling for S, while I followed behind slower, scanning the lake and the woods for the sparkly pink jacket that S was wearing. 

     We walked for at least half a mile before Aaron turned around and met up with me. At this point, I told Aaron it was time to head back to the cabin and if S wasn't there one of us would need to take the car and go find a park ranger to help us. We met up with our cabin "neighbor" who was also out looking for our girl along with his 14 year old daughter ,who was at the time running up and down side trails looking for S. I ran up through the first cut through to the cabin while Aaron stayed on the trail and found that S still wasn't back. So I ran ahead to the next cut through, told Aaron that I was going to get help while he continued on the trail, backtracking to where we went earlier thinking maybe S went there.

     Before getting in the car, our neighbor told me that he was going to go in the opposite direction and search some of the side trails and knowing that we didn't have phone signal, told me that if I heard 3 gunshots that was him. I got in my car and started to drive, reciting out loud all the information I knew; what cabin we were staying in, the trail number, the landmarks we had walked past, what S was wearing, her physical description, etc. At one point, I started to get scared, thinking about how cold it was getting, that S wasn't dressed for cold weather, how scared S must be, and I started to cry. But then I told myself, "STOP, you have a job to do and you can't break down right now". I also prayed harder than I had ever prayed in my life, praying not only that we would find her, but that God would comfort S and assure her that we were looking for her and that we would not stop.

     Thankfully, I found a park ranger at one of the other campgrounds and jumped out of the car to let him know my daughter was missing. After taking down her physical description, the ranger radioed to the main gate and told them to stop every car leaving the park and look for a 10 year old girl fitting my daughter's description. I will admit, this was the point I almost threw up. It hadn't even crossed my mind that someone might take my girl. As I was giving the ranger our contact information, I heard 3 gunshots and knew that was our neighbor. I told as much to the ranger and ran back to my car to drive back to the cabins. I had never been so happy to hear gunshots in my life.

     As soon as I jumped out of the car at the cabins, our neighbor's wife met me and told me that her daughter had just called, they found S and were bringing her home. I think I took the first full breath in an hour and anxiously waited to hold my sweet baby girl. The ranger followed me to the cabin and I was able to tell him the good news, S was found and on her way back. He told me that I had done a great job, cancelled the stopping of every car, and went towards where Aaron had headed so he could send him home. It wasn't long before Aaron showed back up, because when he heard those gunshots, he knew that he needed to go in the direction of those shots. He came to the cabin and I was able to tell him that our girl had been found.

     When we caught the first glimpse of that sparkly jacket, we both took off running, Aaron getting to her first, and S jumped into her daddy's arms, sobbing. I got to her next and wrapped her cold little body in my arms and told her that we never stopped looking for her and that we were so happy she was okay. We got her inside, warm, fed, and smothered with hugs. We found out that she had kept walking down the trail for almost 3/4 of a mile before finally turning around. She even climbed a hill at one point to a firetower, thinking a ranger or firefighter would be there, and upon getting there and seeing that there was no one around, she curled up on the bench and just cried. After a few minutes, our brave girl persevered and told herself that she had to keep walking, so she went back down to the trail and soon after, our neighbor's daughter found her.

     We talked for a long time that night and again the next day about what she should have done. That if she is walking and no longer recognizes anything, to STOP and turn around. We got her a trail map the next morning and she actually highlighted the trails we planned to take before leaving the cabin. While on the trail, we had her point out landmarks that would help her recognize where she was. We worked with her on how to best read the map and we set new boundaries, telling her that if ran ahead and turned around and could not see us, that she was to stop and stay where she was until she could see us again.

     Aaron and I have also had several conversations since our girl got lost about how we can better prepare our kids and how we can prevent something like this from happening again. We have discussed getting some good walkie talkies, with a decent range, so that even if we get separated, we can communicate in areas with no phone signal. I told Aaron that our kids will each carry a preparedness bag everytime we go hiking from now on. The bag will have water, snacks, a sweatshirt, gloves, and warm hat, a flashlight, and a whistle or loud alarm. We have learned a valuable lesson from this experience and will be better prepared should our adventurous, explorer kiddos get separated from us.

    I write this, one to help process what happened, but also as a warning to other adventure loving families. Please, please talk with your kids about what they should do if they get lost in the woods. Talk about the importance of paying attention to landmarks and that if they no longer recognize their surrounds to STOP, TURN AROUND, and GO BACK the way they came. Tell them that if it starts to get dark to STOP and STAY RIGHT WHERE THEY ARE on the trail. Please give your kids worst-case scenario items - at least a whistle or an alarm, but I would encourage a backpack with the items listed above. As I tell Aaron a lot, if you prepare for the worst-case scenario, then odds are the worst won't happen. Pay attention to your kids, note what they are wearing before heading out, pay attention to the the trail numbers and markings and landmarks so you can give thorough descriptions to authorities if needed. 

     Even with this traumatic experience, our girl still wants to go back to the state park and stay in the cabins again. She still loves hiking and exploring the great outdoors. And she says that even though she was scared at the time, she isn't scared to go out again. Things could have been so much worse, but God was kind and gracious and our story has a happy ending.