Canyons

I stumbled down a path one evening thinking I knew where I was going. The gritty earth led my feet. I did not read the sky. Red rocks brought me down. I kept walking. I have been walking through canyons of deep sadness since. Some parts of the canyons are dark and I cannot see a way out. I fooled myself into thinking there would be an easy way out. There isn't. But I keep walking. The dust grinds in my teeth. The canyon walls surround me now. I am at their mercy. They look down on me but their plan for me is veiled. Every once in a while I come to a vantage point. If the clouds pull back I can see a little clearer and taste the air above. Last night I had a moment like this; I could see out of the canyon for a bit. I  saw a friend who is walking down a similar canyon. It was then that God whispered to me that I don't have to go through this alone; that I'm not meant to get through this on my own.

It has been close to five weeks now.

It is so easy for me to believe I can always recover from sickness. My default is to expect recovery. I am lying to myself when I think my health is entitled. I am lying to myself when I think I am entitled to 70-odd years of precious life. At my best times I am patient- waiting in the Lord and accepting peace from knowing my life is in His hands- and at my worst times I question why God withholds healing from me. The time between is long and arduous but everyday I move forward. Everyday that I am able to walk is a gift. 

And so I endure. I wedge myself through the canyon walls when they become tight. I climb the walls when they allow. I haven't reached the top of the canyon but I will keep trying. Everyday I will walk, or climb, or crawl. One day I hope to emerge. I am slowly learning to peacefully accept my lot even if I never make it out.