Mountains of a Personal Kind

I will confess, I am not too good at these. Personal mountains of an emotional, relational kind always seem to trip me up and throw me over. I seem to drown as I gasp for air. My tears become torrents. Music loses rhythm. Life loses meaning. Heaviness takes over. Weights heavier than all the tyres I have carried or pushed around during the preparation for the Rwenzori climb, wear me down. My breathing becomes labored, more than when I labour through an exercise routine. It’s easy to get a toned body, but a toned soul? That pain cuts to the bone. It’s hot. It’s searing.

But I am glad for road trips. They help me think. They help me see all the green around me. And green calms me somehow. I am glad for the space. The time away. The opportunity to think, to rest, to calm down, and to hopefully hope and smile again.  Time to find meaning in the song “It is well with my soul.” Time to pray.

Father God, You see, You know and You care. Even when I have no words, when I can’t form words because the effort spills forth into tears all over again, I know You see my heart, You see my hurt. I see Your hand. You hold it out to me. You welcome me into Your bosom. You call me by name. I am Yours. Forever. You still my anxious heart. I rest in You. And I know You make all things beautiful in Your time.

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