But ONE

 There is but One

Who knows the mountain that I climb,

The battle that I face,

The loss that I mourn.

 

My mountain is treacherous and steep,

Harsh and unforgiving,

With no clear path.

Directional decisions weigh me down, catching me off guard like an avalanche that buries a wrong turn;

Like a Great Grey Owl, camouflaged predators instinctively watch and wait –

Positioned to pounce

Placing bets on when - not if -

I will get lost, get hurt, or give up.

Heart pounding, lungs panting,

I push and persevere

despite a heavy backpack full of fear.

Steadying and stabilizing myself,

I carefully take one step of courage at a time

And I climb.

 

After all,

I am chosen to conquer this mountain- and have been training for it all of my life,

Yet I feel unfit, unable, unqualified.

My tired muscles ache and I grow weary.

Over and over, I get to the end of myself.

 

But One is with me on the mountain

The light

who pierces through the thick, dark, forest to reveal

The Way

through the briars and thorns

that shoot up from the ground like a barbed wire fence.

He cuts them back with His machete of mercy,

unties my insecurity and leads me,

gracefully lifting me up over the obstacles and snares

His staff wrapped around me like a waist harness.

And I discover

With Him

I lack nothing on the mountain.

 

My battles are fierce and ferocious,

Raging and relentless.

Daggers of deception and devaluation are determined to intellectually behead me,

Chains of disengagement and distraction are determined to emotionally bind me,

Bombs of discouragement and despair are determined to spiritually bury me.

The weight of my armor, like a winepress, squeezes salty sweat from my crushed spirit.

My arms droop like trees without sun as I struggle to hold up my shield

And pierce the darkness

with the whisper of my sword.

 

After all,

I am chosen to win this battle

Prepared and surrounded by equipped reinforcements like a Secret Service agent of ‘My White House’ -

Yet I feel insignificant, insecure, inadequate.

My brain is foggy and I grow weary.

Over and over, I get to the end of myself.

 

But One is with me in the battle

stabilizing my core,

strengthening my back,

with Truth

Like the tide which erases the lies drawn in the sand by the enemy,

He restores my identity;

Like the messy pollen of spring which brings life from what is dead,

He rescues and reconciles me back to Him;

Like the sun which draws trees out of darkness,  

He lifts my shield and sword,

reminding me of His victory and repositioning my helmet.

And I discover

With Him

I lack nothing in the battle.

 

I hide the loss I mourn in a safehouse of deafening silence.

Dreams disappeared like a helium balloon that slipped off the wrist of a child the moment her mother turned away;

Plans that were stolen like tulip bulbs dug up by squirrels despite the bloodmeal scattered over the soil;

Relationships that shattered like a perfectly wrapped porcelain vase dropped by negligent movers -

carefully placed back together with a thick glue of modern medicine, disclaimer, and denial.

Despite the missing pieces

we move on.

Things that should have been -

or could have been -

will never be.

Like a gambler defeated

who keeps betting despite the fact that his bank account is empty and his bills are past due,

 I spend the day distracted in a casino of defiant desperation

spinning a wheel of disbelief with everything I’ve got left.

 

Trauma grabs a hold of me

like a handshake that squeezes way too hard -

lips wince, teeth clinch together, eyes tear, knuckles crack.

I try to pull away

but it won’t let go.

I try to shake it off

toss and turn all night

sweating in sorrow,

shivering in shock.

Hours turn into days,

days into weeks,

and weeks into years.

Discouraged and downcast,

I hold tight onto Hope

and scatter mulch over the weeds of disappointment that pop up in my flower beds.

 

After all,

I am chosen to persevere through this loss

strengthened by His presence, a present.

Yet I feel overwhelmed, overpowered, overcome with grief.

I can’t stop the tears and I grow weary.

Over and over, I get to the end of myself.

 

But One is with me in the loss

Who acknowledges and affirms my pain with compassion,

understands the depth of my sorrow with empathy

promises me new Life.

The glory of the cross who turned death to gain,

gently binds up my broken heart

and restores my crushed spirit.

He overpowers Trauma

and the strength of my suffering submits to the strength of my Savior.

He uproots the weeds of my disappointment,

patiently removes my doubt and devastation,

and joyfully plants gardenias of grace and peonies of peace

into the rich soil of His goodness,

His kindness,

and His love.

The fruit of His faithfulness exceeds my imagination.

 

And I realize

the mountain that I climb

the battle that I face

And the loss that I mourn

Are what lead me to

discover

With Him

I lack nothing.

 

Psalm 23: The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.  He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.  Even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.  You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.  Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.