As I mentioned in my last post, this past week has felt like one giant mountain. I know, we have all had those days, weeks, months, years...that feel like a giant mountain that you just keep on trying to climb.
And that was how I felt this past week: climbing this mountain, losing my footing, regaining my composure, deciding to keep on climbing.
I know we all walk this fine line with blogging. With writing. In life really. Where we go back and forth on how personal to be. Especially when things go wrong or we face trials. It's almost as if the air is sucked out of us and we just don't know how to convey our humanness.
Last Wednesday I faced some physical trials that are always somehow connected to my disease.
And it took me by surprise. I wasn't expecting it.
And like I said, it felt like a giant mountain as the days following kept bringing more issues and more concerns and more experiences that were somewhat terrifying.
I felt as if I couldn't quite believe what was going on. As if it was stumping me. And I can honestly say that if it wasn't for the prayer that was poured over me and my body I'm not sure where I would be at this point.
I was clinging to the hope that I have in Jesus.
When things happen that you don't expect, those are the moments when what or who you are standing on, trusting in, hoping in, become very real.
I remember thinking at one point during everything that if this was it....all the silly things that I was focusing on and hoping in, what did they really mean in this light?
Perspective will sneak up on you real quick.
I thought the above quote was quite applicable to my last week. My interpretation of it at least.
There will be moments in our lives where we feel like we are in the dead of winter friends.
That we are walking through the night. And we might feel like we are alone even in the midst of so many people that love us.
I think suffering can be a lonely thing, because we still struggle with talking about it and sharing in it.
But, even in those times where everything feels the most stark and void of life, there is hope.
And I felt that realization during everything that took place.
As if through the pain and fear and uncertainty God was whispering that His grace was enough for me.
That He hadn't let me go. That He was still holding me together. That He died for me so He could walk with me through this suffering.
This is where my own interpretation comes in.
I have come away from this past week with some wounds and a lot of work ahead of me.
But, Christ in me, He is my "invincible summer" so to speak.
He has given me hope in the midst of this winter to keep on climbing the mountain.
He is my promise of a life giving summer ahead.