Where I live, the terrain is a mix of farmland, woods, lakes, streams and patches of small to medium size hills and rocky slopes. In any season it's a beautiful drive on the outskirts of town.
One of many things that inspires me the most are the trees that poke their tiny branches through layers of solid rock on the hillsides. The tree's tenacity, thrive to survive and ability to overcome obstacles of hardened surface surrounding it are incredible. Immediately I think of Jeremiah 17:8, "They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit."
Last night I dreamed that someone was teaching me how to run. He didn't just teach me with words. He ran beside me. We started running series of simple sprints. After each run, he'd point out what made that run even better than the previous. Without putting too much focus on what was slowing me down or what I was doing wrong, the focus was more on the dynamics involved with motion, breathing and physical stamina.
There were eight of us linked arm in arm. We inched our way forward. Just a little over an hour before then, the sun was lighting the woods of the Swedish village of Gislaved. But no more. It was dark. Spooky dark. This forest was unlike any I have ever experienced. The woods in Pennsylvania are kind. At least they allow the moonlight to slip through the branches. Not where we were. I held my hand in front of my face, but I wasn't sure my hand was indeed cooperating and if my eyes were even open. I couldn't see a fraction of anything, not the blurry shape of my hand, not a sliver of light.
We were afraid to take big steps, fearing we'd fall into the abyss. Funny how the darkness changed our perception. Our steps were wobbly and insecure, even though we already knew the dirt road was flat and wide, free and clear of obstacles for at least a half mile. We were only a few steps away from the cottage we rented, but the porch light was already dim and seemed to be blocks away. Even so, we all kept moving one small step at a time.
