Beauty in the strenuous climbs

There have been several times in my life where I have felt like I was on a never-ending strenuous climb. A climb so steep I just didn't know how I would ever make it to the top in one piece. Shoot. I couldn't even see the top, so how in the world would I ever make it there?

Losing a mom at age 7 = strenuous climb

Because surely no one should have to experience that. . . 

Battling anorexia & later pushing forward through recovery = strenuous climb

Because surely no one should have to experience that. . . 

Struggling with infertility = strenuous climb

Because surely no one should have to experience that. . . 

Facing the daunting thing that is an IVF cycle = strenuous climb

Because surely no one should have to experience that. . . 

Learning that your firstborn might not ever function like a typical child her age = strenuous climb

Because surely no one should have to experience that. . . 

Learning that there is a name, a real name, a real reason, that your firstborn might not ever function like a typical child her age. Learning that the reason is Cohen Syndrome, and that I, her mom, had a part in passing it to her = strenuous climb

Because surely no one should have to experience that. . . 

And I know you could fill in your own life experiences in place of mine above, with the sadness and heartbreaks unique to your journey. Because we all have them. We all have moments when the mountain feels too steep. Moments when it's so steep we just can't seem to put one foot in front of the other. Or even if we can, we are so blinded by our emotions and baggage we choose to haul up the mountain with us that we sometimes feel like the breath is literally being sucked out of our body.

The elevation is just too much.

You know that moment. . . that moment when you literally cannot breathe.

We all have that moment.

And these moments might tempt us to ask "What's the point?" Or "Why me?"

But if there is one thing, just one thing I have learned from my 31 year long life story, it is this. . .

There is so much beauty at the summit.

That mountain is real and tall and dark and scary and intimidating and fear inducing and filled with sadness and hurts and lost dreams and head hanging and tears shed and lots and lots of questions.

But if we just lift our head, just a little bit, we can see the rainbow that remains once the storm has cleared. The beautiful tapestry that God has been weaving together since we first set foot on the mountains base. The stretching and pruning and growth and healing is all so very, very beautiful.

So this uphill climb that you are on. You were chosen for it. I was chosen for it. That thing called Cohen Syndrome? Yep. I believe God gifted it to me because he knew I could do it. And do it well. That's not to say it won't be done without some (ok, maybe a lot of) heavy tears and hard days, but that's ok, it's expected, because remember God promised me there would be tears and hard days.

Because tears and hard days are part of the making of the rainbow. 

So that mountain you are on? Maybe today just consider how God is using you in it, tears and all. Maybe today just consider that he has selected you for this journey because He believes in you and feels that you, of all his little children, can not only climb that mountain, but can and will emerge victoriously.

So keep putting one foot in front of the other weary traveler.

There is beauty waiting for you at the top.