The Mountain

Today's picture is ....... approaching Hamburg Germany via air......

Have you ever fallen off the mountain? This mountain we call life at least? We all fall off of it from time to time.

But we always seem to find our way back up.

It isn't always when you are standing at the top that you realize the true beauty of what is around you. Sometimes it is from the bottom.

Imagine this.... you are standing there in the sun, arms wide open, looking up to the sky and screaming "THIS IS IT!"

And all of a sudden a rock breaks beneath your feet. You start to fall. You hit every single thing on the way down. Slice open your back, hit your head. Bang into boulders, get bruised, cut open and you bleed. You come to what you think is the bottom for a moment, but you realize it's just a ledge. Just when you think you hope this thing doesn't break it breaks, sending you rolling downward again. Your hands are grasping but you are grabbing twigs that break. You fall faster. You grab hold of a tree branch and you stop. You look up, you look down and while you know you are in the middle you are not sure which way is closer. Before you take your next breath that breaks too. You keep grabbing but you keep falling.

You hit the bottom and there is a lot of dust. Pain you have never felt. You are tired and you are bleeding. You look up. The sun somehow is still shining. It looks different from here. Through the rocks you can actually see sunbeams. You never saw that on the top. You notice the shape and the color of the rocks above you. You realize that the mountain is far more beautiful from the bottom.

And you can't believe you just survived the fall. You still have faith.

As you start to pick yourself up you are in a great deal of pain. There is a lot of blood, but you don't mind. You are muddy and dirty. You brush yourself off. It's what you've always done.

You take a deep breath in as you look up and wonder if you have the strength to do it again. As you reach for the first rock you are uncertain, but it holds you. You put your foot up on another, and it is solid. You begin to believe that you can do this.

Then the next rock you grab breaks. You begin to fall again and it's worse this time. You realize what you thought was the bottom, was not. There was another 250 feet to go.

Again you lay at the bottom. Rock bottom. As you look up you say that's too high. I can't do it again. You lose faith.

A group of climbers comes by and offers you assistance. No thanks you tell them…. I am fine, I can do it, and I need no help. The fear of someone knowing you are weak, sick, broken…… it overwhelming. You watch as they walk away together and begin to climb. Part of you wishes you went with them.

To not be alone right now …. you would do anything…. except admit you are weak.

So once again you pick yourself up. You walk to the bottom of the mountain. You see the group climbing, laughing, ascending, together. Your heart aches and the pain is so great. You want to have faith.

Finally, finally you decide to ask them for help. But they are far away and your pain is so great. You begin to climb anyways because you know if you just make it to them…… they will help you. You begin to look for faith.

You call out to them but your voice is weak. You don’t' want to really admit you need help. You know you have to. You try to shout. You are at war with yourself. Part of you is begging for help and the other part is angry that you would need it.

You scream louder. One of them hears you. They climb back down and they extend their hand. You reach up and you take it. Just by holding onto them your pain eases. Tears begin to flow and you try not to let them see you cry.

They pull you up to a ledge where they have water and food. They tell you they have been waiting for you. They tell you they have been climbing this mountain too, and they have been watching you fall and climb and fall. They tell you they have wanted to help you but …. you were stubborn. So they just waited.

As you sit down they give you water, they begin to clean your wounds. They put their arms around you and hold you tight.

At first you fight it, but then……. you stop. You allow the tears to come. You allow the love to come within you. You realize you are not alone. You never were alone and you never have to be alone.

You feel their love. You feel them hold you. They pick up your bags and you for once do not protest. Faith has found you.

When they say we will carry you, you let go of the fear. You relax into them and you allow them to carry you back up the mountain, You trust they won't let you fall. You trust that they will not let go. Every now and then the old fear arises that they will let go…… you pick up your head, you look at them, and they tell you to trust them, to relax. You go on faith.

Step by step and foot by foot they carry you to the top of that mountain. They remind you that you were never meant to do it alone. But because your life required you to survive……. they understood why you felt that way.

You look up to the sun, and while you are still weak, you are now healing. You feel the sunbeams wash over your body. Someone takes your hand, and again you begin to cry. You let it all out. But finally not crying because you are sad. You are crying because you let go. You let go of the stuff and you let in the love.

You become faith and faith becomes you.

And you realized that love is what ultimately heals. That love is what erases pain. Takes away evil. Makes the world go around. You've been turned off of it for so long…… that you forgot that existed.

But you never will again.