Storm Clouds

As with the beginning of any new journey, even some of the tough ones, I suspected there was a honeymoon stage of this situation. I remember even mentioning it to my next door neighbor Eunice.

During those initial days I feel the invigoration of a new challenge and something stirred at the thought of a victory down the road. It is hope welling up. It is that adrenaline of a summit to be climbed. That glimpse (from down on the road you've arrived on) of the peak of the hill, blue sky framing it, sunlight streaming on it cause you to forget the effort that this trek will require.

The journey starts. It is even somewhat pleasant at first--almost like a vacation in its newness. I was breathing fresh cold morning air. An awakening occurred. I forgot (or denied) the reality ahead when bumps and falls and rain and wind would occur. I would get tired of the continual upward effort, the things that would challenge mind, body, and spirit.

Today I sit on a ledge, not sure how far up this mountain I am. I am so close to the grit of the rocky path that I cannot see how much land I've covered or how much elevation is ahead before I will reach that peak and stand on the top.

This week has been tough. There is dirt under my physical and emotional fingernails as I have dug fiercely into the days. My face is smudged. My jeans are torn. I am tired and thirsty. I don't like this mountain that seemed a friendly challenge just eight weeks ago. I would like to get off. But I don't have that option. I must figure out how to keep at it. These are the transitional days. These are the ones that will make or break me. These are the ones that will reveal what I am really made of, and how well I do at receiving the strength that is offered to me via grace as I go on. These days push me farther than I would prefer. I would like to only go so far as I know I can succeed. This territory tests me.

There have been a few sunny moments this week. A friend arrived with a bag of food from her garden last summer. Several kind words, inquiring phone calls about how the job search is going, and the friends who seem to surface at just the right time (or is it that it SEEMS like the right time because it is that particular person who has come?) I got an email that included a hymn that reminded me that "all is well" and a link to a video that had some amazing creativity.

Mostly, however, it has felt like a rainy week, causing that damp to the bone chill that is hard to recover from. There were some storm clouds rumbling, and lightning strikes that hit a little to close. I am tired. I need to find the rhythm of this climb--pressing on and allowing myself the nourishment and rest I need for a journey whose length I don't know.

I also have been reminded of some whose journey is colder and steeper than my own--a little girl with cancer, a dear woman whose life has had an inordinate amount of hardship and whose son may be in his last days, a young man battling cancer, a young gal with medical questions that need untangled, a neighbor who lost her mother this week, and my sister and brother-in-law who lost a dear friend.

So it is ok that I am in a different stage of my path and having to learn to walk new territory. We all have to figure those things out along the way. God is not tired or less present than at the start. His promises are not weaker. His resources not depleted. His help is not absent. He never changes. It is me that is in transition. And I can become something better during this time.

I will also be kind to myself as I keep at this, doing what I can and not beating myself up for what is beyond my control.

Maybe a "second wind" is around the corner.