I made it to the top of the world

Covered in clots of mud, bleeding, bruised and breathless I grabbed his hand as he helped pull me over the final wall of ice. As we stood side by side, it was almost as if we were looking at the rest of our lives. For five minutes we remained hand in hand, not saying much of anything, yet letting our silent prayers say everything. Like a leaky water balloon, I felt my heart start to use my tear ducts as an overflow. Heavenly Father had painted a picture with a viewing only for us. We were standing on the edge of the world. Everything below us- the trees, the buildings, the city- seemed to speak of the power of God. It was as if he was saying “This is yours. Go and do.”

Want to convince an atheist that God exists? Have them hike the Alexander Basin.

It’s no small miracle that I made it to the top. In case you don’t know, when it comes to physical things I can be a little bit of a baby. I’m no Pillsbury dough girl, but taking a hike with me is about the equivalent of playing a baseball game with Ernie Lombardi. Slow.

Two miles into the hike, the trail disappeared under a thick layer of snow. Beyond the snow was a giant hill…and more snow. Okay, okay. To use the word hill would be underestimating the monstrosity before us. It was a small mountain. If I can be completely honest, my first thought was this:

“That’s a nice sight. Glad I don’t have to climb it.”

Feel free to use your imagination to envision us on this mountain.  

There was no way in this life or the next that I was going to climb a mile up a giant ice covered hill without a trail. In his wisdom, Rhett knew that I wasn’t just going to tackle the hill all at once. He led me up the hill a little at a time, without me realizing that I was actually climbing the sheer side of a mountain. Every 20 yards of so I would pant and ask for a break. It took every ounce of personal stamina to claw my way, sometimes on my hands and knees, through the mud and snow. After a half mile of hill, I didn’t think my body would take another step. Sensing my frustration, Rhett offered me his wrist. I think he dragged me half way up the mountain. He must have had a better sense at what was at the top (as per usual) than I did.

If we had gone by my limited vision, I would have missed one of the most breathtaking moments of my life.

When I stand on my knees, bruised, broken and disheveled, Heavenly Father sends those stronger than me to drag me up mountains. More often than not it’s kicking and screaming (I’m working on it), but somehow I always make it. Someday when I lie at the feet of my Heavenly Father I’ll have a little dirt under my fingernails. I’ll be scratched, scarred and sweaty. Yet, I live for the moment when I finally reach that peak, when he can say, “Well done, my child,” and take me into his arms.

I am blessed.

(oh, and Rhett only lost his phone one time during our five hour escapade. Success.)

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