The Incline

Remember my post about how this cancer journey is like being dropped off at a trail head with no map, no idea how long the hike is, no idea the elevation gain, expected weather conditions and no idea if and when your snacks, water, backpacking gear and relevant necessities will appear? Yeah. Well, as it turns out that trail head drop off point was 2 years ago. We've crested mountains we would have sworn were the summit. We've meandered a bit and caught glimpses of a very dark valley and a steep mountain beyond that we all prayed wasn't a feature of this particular trail. And now? We're on the edge of that valley and the incline beyond.

I know from experience that I will find a cadence in the difficulty ahead, but I also know the burn of those muscles as they get pushed to their limit. I have a bit of muscle memory, and it all begs to abdicate. Even knowing there is no way but through, I don't want to do it.

Discomfort anyone?

 What does it take to sit in discomfort?

I've been pondering this question for awhile. (Is my whole blog about this question? I don't think so, but it features a lot.) Probably because life/God keep giving me opportunities to sit here, and so I keep pondering. Very recently I was evaluating this current discomfort and asking God for more tools to navigate the hard. I sat in quiet and stillness for a few hours, waiting. Thankfully, I had these beautiful trees to keep me company.

As I was watching the aspen leaves quiver in the very slight wind that was gusting through from time to time I was thinking about the seasons and the pattern God laid out for us on repeat. I was watching these aspen leaves that hold on to the branch by the thinnest of stems. So delicate their grasp on stability. They wave and quiver and look like the slightest breeze could knock them loose and it doesn't, until all at once it does. Down they float gracefully to join a million others blanketing the forest floor in gold. It's beautiful.

I tend to fight this season. Fight the discomfort. Fight to stay afloat and stable. 

"He makes us wait. He keeps us on purpose in the dark. He makes us walk when we want to run, sit still when we want to walk, for He has things to do in our souls that we are not interested in." - Elizabeth Elliot

Honestly? I don't think many of us have what it takes to sit in discomfort. This is a skill crafted by the master craftsman. It's not something highly valued in our society or even in ourselves. It's a gift most of us don't want. I know I don't want it. At least not a first blush, but since I'm here...