I Live To Serve

… because I live to love.

I woke up one morning last week to a fresh mountain of wet bedding and a litany of demands from my 14-year-old special needs daughter.

As I stripped the sheets, I couldn’t help but think a few woeful thoughts. “Happy Birthday to me. Is this what the next year has in store? Do I live to serve?”

The answer slipped into my heart. Yes.

After all, Jesus narrowed over 600 laws and commandments down to two. Love God. Love people.

Then He showed what that love looked like by putting off glory and taking on human skin. By living among and healing the afflicted. By washing the feet of his friends. By teaching by example that those who want to be great should be the servants of all. By hanging on the cross to take the punishment earned by selfish mankind. By conquering death to give us life.

With these thoughts flooding my heart, I stuffed the bedding into the washing machine. My complaint had become my mission statement.

I live to serve … because I live to love.

What about you? Who do you serve? Why?

The Wall

Years ago, way back in high school, I used to be a long distance runner. Most races ranged from a mile to three miles, but my sophomore year, I entered a half-marathon. That's over 13 miles of putting one foot in front of the other. 

I can still remember parts of that race. The starting line was miles up a canyon in Utah. Soon after the gun fired, the pack of runners spread out along the winding, scenic road to the valley below. The twists and turns masked the length of the journey and sporadic tables with paper cups of water helped break up the monotony.

Until about mile marker nine when I hit The Wall. That place in long races where every muscle cries out in pain for you to give up and quit. That reaching the finish line isn't worth this level of physical torture. Where you're wishing for an injury just to be able to bow out with grace instead of humiliation. Where every step forward is a supreme act of the will. As if you've run into a brick wall blocking your forward progress.

I'd like to say I've only encountered The Wall when running, but we can all reach that place in the long journeys of life. Marriage. Parenting. Work situations. Health issues.

Solution? Keep putting one foot in front of the other. For just a few more steps and then a few more. Maybe slow the pace down and walk a bit, but always keep moving at all costs. And when you push through The Wall, something amazing happens. The pain fades away and you get a second wind to carry you forward to the cheering crowds at the finish line.

I'd hit the wall with editing my latest manuscript. All of my critique partners' comments were marked on the paper copy and sticky-notes flagged pages where I needed to add different plot threads. The revisions were done in my head, just not in the computer file. I was full of excuses about being swamped at work and having a hormonal teenager in the house, but the real problem was procrastination.

Then I got a much needed kick in the pants from a quote I heard on the radio. "Procrastination is the grave where opportunity is buried." Ouch. Oppotunities to seek agent representation and pitch this book to editors at a writers conference I'm attending in May would never amount to anything unless I had a finished product to send them.

I shifted my schedule around and blocked out two days for writing in hopes to get momentum building again. I started that weekend with 13 of 30 chapters in pretty good condition and the knowledge that I needed to add another whole chapter. Friday morning, I plodded my way through another chapter's worth of revisions.

Not bad. I started in on chapter 15 and then the phone rang. It was the call notifying me that this very manuscript had advanced to the semi-finals in the ACFW Genesis contest. Talk about a jolt of new energy and motivation to pursue this opportunity!! By the end of the weekend, I had written a completely new chapter and had 19 of 31 chapters ready. Over halfway done and motivated to push forward, I found my second wind.

Last week, even on nights when I was extremely tired from work and baseball games, I found the time to get a couple more chapters done. Then, Friday night, I went on a pre-birthday dinner date and saw the musical that plays a significant role in this book. Flooded with fresh ideas, I spent much of Saturday pounding away at the keyboard, adding new threads and pieces of dialogue to the already-revised chapters as well as pushing ahead on other needed changes. With only five chapters left to revise, the end of this stage of the race is in sight.

I've left The Wall far behind.

What about you? What long journey are you on? Have you ever hit "the wall?" Did you quit or push through? Did you gain a second wind of energy to carry you forward?

Tunnels

Two weeks ago, my family headed into the Rocky Mountains for a Spring Break trip in Breckenridge, Colorado. With sledding and hot-tubbing on the agenda, the kids were more than excited.

The two-hour drive took us up winding canyons, beside rippling creeks, and through seven tunnels. (The whole car counted them thanks to my daughter’s autistic characteristics.)

Some tunnels were quite short. One stretched for over a mile and a half and crossed the Continental Divide at over 11,000 feet elevation. All were hewn from solid rock through the sacrifice of countless hours of work, blood, sweat, and tears.

Why? To make the journey easier for those who came behind.

Before the tunnels, travelers faced narrow paths perched on the sides of steep mountain slopes. The long scenic route isn’t relaxing when one faces sheer drop-offs along the way. Factor in the extra time and energy invested to make it over or around the mountain standing in the way. Not to mention thunderstorms and blizzards eroding the path or blowing you off course.

Why go over or around the mountain, when a way is made to go through? Yet, how many times in life do I try to do it my way and ignore the difficult lessons learned by those who have gone before?

Going through a tunnel isn’t cheating. It’s wisdom.

What about you? What tunnels have you found in your journey? Have you carved any for those who come behind?

Scaling Mountains

Many years ago, I climbed two different 14,000 foot-high peaks with my family. My dad had started a quest to scale all of the 14-ers in Colorado (long since accomplished) and wanted to share the experience with the rest of us.

So, we loaded up the car, drove a few hours, and set up camp complete with tents and sleeping bags. After all, in order to climb a tall mountain, one needs to start extra early in the morning so you can be done before any afternoon thunderstorms decide to develop. After a not-so-restful night’s sleep on the ground, we filled our water bottles, laced up our hiking boots, and hoisted day packs onto our shoulders.

At first the trail was easy. Well-groomed, wide, mostly level, and meandering through meadows of wildflowers.

Then we began to climb. Still beautiful scenery but a steeper slope. A few switchbacks to make it easier to gain the vertical distance. A few more rocks in the path and the first of many water breaks.

Before long, we were huffing and puffing behind Dad with gazes fixed on the path before our feet. One wrong step and we’d twist an ankle for sure. The scenery changed, too, as we finally reached timberline. Tall trees were replaced by stubby, twisted bushes that faded into memory behind us.

Without the trees, I felt the wind more. I also noticed the huge boulders littering the mountainside. And looking further up the path, I saw it. The summit. Standing clear against the blue sky.

With the end in sight, I found my second wind and pushed onward and upward to reach the goal. Only to find it was the first of several false summits as the narrow trail wound further up the mountain.

Oxygen grew scarce. My lungs burned. My muscles quivered. One foot in front of the other, I stumbled forward. Why was I climbing this stupid mountain anyway? I could have been relaxing back at camp reading a novel.

And then a voice called from above. My dad’s voice. “You’re almost there. You can do it.”

I staggered forward over the last bit of the trail and collapsed onto a rock at the top of the world. After catching my breath, I gazed in awe at the panorama before me. Peak after majestic peak for as far as I could see in all directions. Tiny colored dots moved along the trail below. A vast expanse of sky above. And the exhilaration of doing something few would ever do.

What did we do then? Said a prayer. Took a few pictures. Drank some water. And started the long and winding journey down to valley below. All the while wondering when and if we’d scale another peak.

Life is full of mountains to climb and the journey to the top isn’t as easy as we’d like it to be. Yet, when we’ve reached the end of our own strength, there is One who calls from above. “You’re almost there. You can do it.” And after we've conquered the first, we see a whole world of possibilities spread out before us.

What about you? What mountains are you climbing? Are you on the easy trail or the rocky slopes? Are you discouraged by a false summit or have you reached the top, only to find there are more mountains waiting to be conquered?