On Climbing Cardigan – May

Memorial Day, and for the second time in a week, I head up to the mountain I love.

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Two years already you’ve been gone.

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What have you missed?

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Your sister ran a 50K, a 50 Miler, and Boston this year. She and hubby are off to hike the PCT in a couple of days.

Jealous.

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Your one brother started college, played some hockey, made future plans.

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The other one committed but needs to fix his two wrecked shoulders, poor guy, so there’s that.

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Your father has another job, another wife.

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Your college class graduated, many of them off to work, missions, or higher degrees.

I hear from them from time to time. They miss you, too.

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And your momma?

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I’m still here, another year older, drinking too much coffee and not running as much as I’d like.

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Two classes of middle school boys have come and gone, and you know what that’s like this time of year: climbing the mountain, singing the hymn, silently weeping a procession of good-bye.

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They’re wonderful and wild and make me laugh.

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It was a hard fight for contentment, but sometimes, I think, the battle actually looks more like surrender. When we stop wrestling and just hold on, perhaps we give Him room to work. That tricky not my will thing.

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I never got a chance to tell you how I used to pray for you while you were down the road at school.

On certain days, I’d feel a pull, that Spirit-nudge, and run the Durham streets, looping tighter to where you slept, blissfully unaware, in your dorm. Around I’d run, prayers pouring from my heart like tears, like blood, as I asked God to pull you, to nudge you, to call you into His destiny and purpose.

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He answered in a way I could never have predicted, but I have come to trust His ways. I believe He is using you even in death – because of it, not in spite of it.

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So I’ll keep climbing, keep looping, keep surrendering.

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Keep looking for you in rock and cloud and sigh.

 

 

 

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