I start my journey at the bottom of a hill. Getting here has been quite easy. My tracks were laid out ahead of me… for me, by others.
On their backs sometimes I was carried; my legs weak from varying amounts of overactivity and inactivity. I thought I had resolve, but at this hill, I find myself wondering who will cheer me on and tell me I do have what it takes? What good is resolve if at the foot of this hill every fiber of my being tells me to turn around and return to where I came?
I decide against it. I am now a mile into my journey and all is well. I can pause for a moment of reflection. Taking the help I’ve received into account, it’s not surprising how fast I have managed to to move. Mile 4 and the tests intensify. I am tense with the anticipation of what is to come while meditating on the lessons of the past. The hardest bit is acknowledging that one slip, one mistake could set me back five paces, ten if it’s a truly dire mistake. Will I see it coming? Will it be of my own doing? JonJorgenson describes ‘Grace’ as Granting Rest After Condemnation Ends. It may be humbling to admit that circumstances are out of our control, that we can't always anticipate mistakes. But we do not need to dwell on our missteps, we can, we must move on. Perhaps one slip could lead to a different, better, greater path. One which lends the necessary hope and guidance I will need for the rest of my trip.
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