Just Today.

When my brother and I hiked this ridge a couple of years ago, I remember thinking that it did me no good to look way ahead and fret about how hard it would be to hike the peaks in the distance...that just got discouraging and overwhelming. It was well worth the time to stop and soak in the views in every direction, but the best way was to enjoy each moment I was in and watch for the best line to tackle each climb as it came.

My dad was recently diagnosed with cancer. It was just a few days before Christmas that the news hit like a punch in the gut to all of us. My dad has always been healthy and robust, so it felt particularly confusing to hear. To even write the word "cancer" feels weird. There is some sort of strangeness in it. A weird mix of pity and claustrophobia and sober-toned language stirred in with "we can beat this" mentality. And it's not even in my body. I don't own it, but the harshness of that word in my dad has been tough.

I recently read something that caused me to really think hard. Essentially, it was talking about how we often try to think our way through trials. We ponder long on how life will play out.  What the outcomes will be. The thing that really pushed into me about what I read was that when we do this to ourselves, we multiply our suffering. The author says: "Rehearsing your troubles results in experiencing them many times, whereas you are meant to go through them only when they actually occur." (S.Young)

During my runs over the past few weeks, I find myself running with a heaviness...like a brick on my back that I can't shake off. I'm sure the frustration shows on my face. The mud, then the extreme cold, and now snow make the time on trails and roads even more challenging, but I think it's more of the things I'm wrestling with in my head that make it so heavy and hard. Running for a few hours forces your head to go to places of vulnerability. But, when I feel it physically, I remember it better in my soul. 

I think a lot about my dad and how my running ties us so much. When I was in high school, he would bike beside me on the lonely country roads to encourage me. In cross country, he would find all the lonely spots to be the one standing to cheer from the middle of some woods or field. In track, it would never fail that my dad would stand on the back corner at at the 200 to remind me of my form or who was closing in from behind. He still makes all my races to this day. He still finds those lonely spots in the woods or the less crowded curbs to wake me up from my exhausted stupor to remind me why I'm running. With choked up pride, he finds me fast at the finish line. He is a good dad.

During these runs, I've been thinking about how sometimes things come into our lives that cannot be fixed or placed or set aside in any quick manner. Sometimes we end up with situations that are long lasting, causing us to endure something for a while. And when I think of these things, my heart and my mind always go straight away to my dear friend, Andi.

My friend and I were both pregnant during the same time with our babies. I was due in early February with a baby girl, and she with a baby boy. The difference between our pregnancies was that her little guy would not survive outside of her womb. Her sweet baby had Anecephaly. She and her husband knew what was coming. They had been prodded by physicians to end the pregnancy and their suffering early, but that was never an option to them. I clearly remember one evening, standing in the closet, hanging up baby clothes when I was about 8 months pregnant. I was talking with Andi on the phone about how things were going. She never stopped asking me how I was doing. She was constantly showing her excitement for our baby girl to come. She never once made me feel sad for the joy we were experiencing. In the beauty of that conversation that forever changed me, I remember her telling me that she knew that the best things in life were best not rushing through. That even in the pain of seeing and knowing of the coming death in the baby moving inside of her, she would gladly relish every movement, each day as his lifetime...as tiny as it was. She told me that God had taught her the most amazing joy in the waiting and the savoring. She knew the fullness of Haven's life. Every single moment of it. Beauty in the fullest. 

"Strength! Courage! Don't be timid; don't get discouraged. God, your God, is with you every step you take." Joshua 1:9 (MSG)

I learn again and again from that lesson. Be watchful for the joy all around, but don't jump ahead in the hardships of this life. It's so hard when you love people. It's so hard when you don't know what will come. But, to take each moment as it is given is so much easier than trying to live the entire week, or month or year all before it comes. We just have to re-live those days we think we've figured out ahead of time anyhow. 

God doesn't give us options to cut corners in dealing with difficulties. But, He often blesses us with unexpected good days, or hopeful diagnoses, or feeling joyful when there seems to be no reason for it, or laughter to forget for a while, or soaking in beauty. He plans for us to plow through the difficult things as they come, but not before, with His strength to do the plowing. He changes our fear into confident trust. 

So, for now my feet are running, and Haven's are with Jesus. But, I love the knowledge that I will walk with him someday in heaven and his mama will see him full and complete. And I am certain that Jesus will say, "well done" to my dear friend for her patient endurance.  

So, as I think about my dad having surgery this Friday, I think about how much this has caused me to run back to the cleft of my Savior's arms. To cling to His goodness, His strength, and hope in Him. I am reminded about my friend, Andi, and her beautiful boy and their story of staying in the middle of the tough. I think about climbing mountains and how God wants the heights to beckon me onward, but He wants me to stay close to Him for getting there, not concerning myself with the things unknown or the fears of what could be. Trusting through the tough brings amazing blessings that highly outweigh the trials themselves.

So I am thankful and even writing this has made me incredibly joyful...hopeful! My earthly father is going through a hardship. But my heavenly Father has it all covered. So I will soak in each day as it comes and trust with all my heart. Please remind me when you see me to do that. I need it. And please pray for my dad, my mom and my family. But we have hope, and that cannot be snatched.

"Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it."
~Helen Keller

Bottom photo credit: Tim Black