As the snow on the path started to become more sparse and there were just little patches here and there, he stuck with me. One time, feeling a little independent, I let go, only to fall right down on the path. When you think you can “go it alone now, thank you very much,” you usually fall right down on life’s slippery path too. Independence is quite a touted virtue today, but you must resist the temptation to become independent from God!
After hours of this exercise, the snow on the path came to an end. The rest of the path was lovely, I’m sure. But I hurt so badly. Every step forward was painful. Even to take the smallest step down from one rock to another took the gathering of all my willingness. My legs shook. I felt like I had the flu. Something in my knee started to pull tight with pain at every step. I wondered if it was possible to break your knees!
Think about the people you meet in life that “ seem” to be on a pleasant enough part of the path, and yet they struggle so. You might wonder now what mountain they have just traversed. How many icy steps on the mountain have they taken? How ill equipped were they for what life dealt them? And who has helped them to this point? Always remember that on the pleasant part of the path you were exhausted by what had come before. I felt sick to my stomach, and all I wanted to do was lie down on the path and go to sleep. I imagined people seeing me on the path for the first time at this point saying, “What is her problem?” I vowed to have more sensitivity toward the travelers I meet on life’s path.
As in real life, there was no “wimp wagon” to rest on like I had experienced on mock pioneer treks. I just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other, knowing there would be an end. Finally Mel and I found ourselves driving home in a toasty warm car, visiting and rejoicing. We had come to this experience in the dark and now it was dark again. What would have been a half-day bit of creative exercise for her had taken us all day. Your friends willingness to walk you, the novice hiker through this experience with enthusiasm and patience, with never a condescending word, speaks more than any sermon. Be more willing to go the distance with others!
I slipped into a nice warm bathtub that calmed my chills, and then onto the living room couch prepared by my daughter Jenny with pillow, blanket and heating pad. Marv warmed my dinner. I was home safe and I had learned some remarkable things about “coming down The Mountain.”
The End.
By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, August 31, 2008
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved.
Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
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