The Shadow Proves the Sunshine

Have you ever had a rough patch?
Not like your dog died, but like things are so rocky you're crawling on all fours just to make it up the hill?
There is no safe footing or soft, manageable terrain.
You look back and your companions either turned back long ago or they pushed you aside and are already on their way to the top of the hill without you.
This kind of rough patch gives you two options, each setting the course for the remainder of your life.
You can either turn back in disappointment and follow your companions who abandoned you when you reached this rough patch, or you can dig your knees into the mud and trudge through it with heavy head and determined heart.
Both ways are hard.
Both ways will mean hurt.
Both ways will alter your world.
Both ways lead to a place you've yet to touch or see.
Both ways will require you to dedicate 100% of yourself to that path.
You look down at the steep slope you've covered so far and you see a crowd at the bottom, yelling directions for you to turn around.
"Hey! Hey! Come back down! It's dangerous, this hill you know! Look, you're slipping! What are you thinking? This is no hill suited to climb. You can't possible make it to the top without damaging yourself."
You bury your face stained with dirt from the struggle and tears from the fight to climb into your own shoulder.
You wipe off the sweat, blood and tears from your brow.
You manage to turn your gaze to the top of the hill. The climb is so steep.
It's so treacherous in your line of vision.
Your eyes wander up the rocks and mud, looking for a path to grab hold of.
Your peers shake their heads and some even laugh at you for thinking you could find a foot hold.
But there's a light up top that they can't see, because they've already turned their backs to you and made their way back down.
There's sunshine up there.
There's peace up there.
Your climb is confusing to those at the bottom.
Your climb is hard to understand even for yourself.
Your climb is over-casted by dark shadows.
That's how you know.
That's how you know that there is light at the end of that climb.
You swing your arm back and dig your nails as hard as you can into the clay dirt.
You scream and bite your lip so hard it bleeds as you try to pull yourself up the next stretch of your climb.
You face plant into the earth and your arm goes back to flop in failure when a soft touch snags your elbow and you feel your body being flung onto the back of this stranger.
The ride is still rugged and you can hazily feel your limbs being slung back and forth as the Stranger climbs and trudges through the muck of your climb.
You haven't reached the sunshine yet, but the load has lifted by a great amount.
Your weakness doesn't seem to weigh the Stranger down.
He scoots you on top of His shoulders.
This reminds you of your father, your chin bouncing on his head as you rode on his shoulders so long ago, running from that lightening storm after a baseball game.
You felt safe then,
Like you do now.
You're on the shoulders of Love.
And you can feel the warmth of the sunshine even though you can't see it yet.
That's how you know.
That's how you know that at the end of the climb, that somehow Love will be there and there will be sunshine.
The shadow proves the sunshine.

Windows Down

Today I was driving back home from a race.
The course was brutal.
I slept terribly.
Driving felt like I had been at an amusement park all day, standing in line for hours for a 5 second ride.
Sunburned and drowsy.
Head bobbling like it belonged on a business man's desk.
My fingers fumbled and cranked up the tunes I barely noticed for the last hour as I got lost in thoughts and the winding road.
"He loves us! Oh how He loves us! How He loves!"
My head rested back on the drivers seat as I whispered the lyrics to the familiar song.
Road winding.
Eyes glazed.
"Britney."
My eyes flickered.
"Love's like a hurricane I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy."
"Britney."
Fine. I'd sit up.
I was waiting like a child for his father to wave their finger and slap their hand.
"Yes? You wanted to speak to me? What? You're angry? Should I get a pen and paper to make a list of how I've handled things in all the ways they disapprove of? Bring it, God."
"Britney. Be silent."
"If Grace is an ocean, we're all sinking!"
"I love you. Britney, I love you."
"Oh yeah? I know a few people who 'love' me. I don't see them here, do You?"
"Them? They? Who? I am the Maker of all things. Do you not think I see you? Has my infinite love gone dry? Does a carpenter build his most prized piece and leave it unfinished? Does he forget the time and love he put into the piece? Does he let it collect dust and rot? No. The carpenter completes his work. The carpenter smooths his piece with time and sweat. Sometimes the piece doesn't take form like the blueprints say. Sometimes the piece is not understood. Sometimes the piece has to be taken apart and reassembled to the carpenters pleasure. You are my piece. You are my most prized possession. Why do you question Me? Am I not your provider? Am I not the Posessor of peace, understanding and possibilities? Do I not hold the Earth in place and yet still keep you tight in My grip? Tell me."
"You are all those things, but I am feeble and small. I lack. I possess the pieces but can't figure out how to place them. They say You won't use me now. They say You can't bless my ministry now. They say my call to missions is invalid. I've been slammed with curses and cut with unacceptance. What could You possibly do with a piece like me?"
"I AM. I AM. I AM. I am the beginning and the end. I am the author and perfector of your faith. I am your hope. I am your anchor. I am the Designer of callings and Writer of your dreams. I am the Alpha and Omega. I am the one Who used the dead, the sick, the lame, the leapor, the beat down, broken, no-good collector of taxes. I am the One Who tamed waves, lions, Satan Himself. I have seen and do see you then, now and on your death bed. I do not operate on the terms of 'they' or 'them'. I have no limits or boundaries to My ways. I create everything out of nothing. I heal when the doctors say no. I mend hearts torn apart by bitterness and hate. My ways are higher, further, deeper, better, stronger than 'they.' Who are 'they' to the Holder of the keys to Heaven and the strings to your soul? I take what 'they' label a set back and make it a stepping stone. Britney, I love you."

The spring wind whipped my blonde locks over my face.
My head leaned back into a resting position.
I let the windows disappear and my hand dance on the air outside my car.
Overwhelmed with grace.
Taken aback by love;
Not the love that waivers on my circumstances,
Not the love that flees and ducks when storms strike.
Not the love that is embarrassed of me.
Not the love that shakes its head and walks away.
Real, insurmountable love.
I am wrapped in it.
Engulfed in it.
Drowning in it.
Completely intoxicated with it.

"He loves us! He loves us! He loves us! Oh how He loves us!"

Headwinds.

A few weeks ago I tagged along for a run with some friends for a good 13.5 mile long run. I was thrilled and anxious to get started that day and spend time with my good running buddies.
I woke that morning and packed all the things I'd need for my run along the country back roads.
Chunky water bottle, sexy fanny pack to hold beans and gels, you know, the essentials.

I swung open the door and jumped out in my church high heels with my running bag stuffed full.
Then the door swung back ferociously and smacked me in my face.
I stumbled and lost my balance on those ridiculously unnecessary 4 inch heels that I didn't even particularly like.
My carefully pinned back hair whipped and whirled and soon took on the character of a deserted squirrel nest.
I stumbled and fumbled and grasped my car door handle and threw my self inside.

I checked the rear view mirror and my mouth dropped at how 2 minutes in that wind had changed my appearance.
My stomach dropped.
The run.
The run.
This wind.
40+ mph winds on a long run was unthinkable.

I sat in church that morning, occasionally glancing out the side door only to find my hopes of seeing a still sunny day be swept away with the first Arkansan hurricane.
I tapped my foot ferociously as the minutes ran by me, reminding me I was about to trade my heels for a hat and my dress for dead legs.

But I'm no quitter.
But I'm no fear stricken child.
I always brave the run.
I always brave the consequences of going out on a run not knowing how nature or my own flesh will react.

That day the wind whipped my body back and forth on the road, so much it made me rethink skimping on food lately. Maybe that extra slice of pie would have made me less fragile and less moveable.
My hat flew off my head revealing my untamed pile of hair.
I groaned, grumbled and moaned with frustration.
It was cold, windy and I was running straight into winds that could move a car off the freeway.

I pushed myself up a good mile incline, wavering and rolling my ankle as I went.
My friends suggested turning back, the winds were too brutal that day.
We were at mile 8, there was no way I could do that.
If I had the bravery to dive into these conditions, I was not going to cut it short or take some detour.
This run was mine and I was going to fight for it, even if that meant the entire run was against headwinds determined to blow my tiny frame to Greenland.

Tears streamed down my face when I reached the point in the run where I was alone with myself and the wind.
It was too hard.
My arms were swinging 100 times per minute but I felt as if my legs had chains tied around them.
I was running in place, literally.
I was getting absolutely nowhere, so I decided to finally look up from the asphalt for the first time that day:
It was beautiful. The way the trees swayed to the beat of the wind and the waves of grass followed as a good dancing partner does.
Then I took a look at my body and felt myself moving to the same rhythm.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
I smiled and shook my head.
This entire time I was concerned with the headwinds that I hadn't taken the time to see what was actually happening!
I stopped swinging my arms like an Olympic track star, I threw my head back and looked at the sky above me, arms spread behind me like a toddler about to run down a hill for the very first time and flew.
Britney, ready for take off!
I soared and the sunshine danced on my freckled  face.
The wind was now a song of love and I was the DJ.
When I saw my car creeping up a small shred of disappointment swept over me.
That run was over, but my run wasn't.
I was saddened that it had taken me until the end of the run to bask in its goodness.
I remember the looks that people gave me as they drove by me that day on the side of the road.
Looks of disbelief and shock.
They were gripping to the interior of the safety of their vehicles and here I was exposing myself to dangerous elements.
But which was more dangerous?
Clinging to the comfort of your leather interior or braving the run.
So as useless is a ship in safe harbors is a person who refuses to face the headwinds.
At the end of the run, I looked up and saw figures standing at the end of the road.
They were the ones who started that run with me, braved it with me and ended it with me.
They were the ones who finished the run when I said I didn't desire to turn back because it was difficult.
On that day, they were my family, and we must take care of our family no matter where we find them.