Mountains and Valleys

Lately two of our little ones have dealt with illnesses. Our little Nora Anne had a nasty stomach bug a week ago and our little Aubree ran a 102.7 degree fever on her first birthday, which we celebrated yesterday. I hate it when my children and grandchildren—or anyone I love—isn’t well. Yet it’s an inevitability of life. In this fallen world, we will all deal with sickness, injury, and loss; it’s so certain that we even include these challenging times in our wedding vows, promising to remain faithful through it all. In the past month, I’ve prayed for husbands standing by their wives who are dealing with cancer; parents attending to their four-month-old son with a broken leg (which included being airlifted out of Laos); a mother bathing a sick child while her father changed the bed, not once but four times throughout the night; tired parents sleeping on a hospital floor while their son lay fighting for his life on the other side of the door in ICU; and several people who recently lost jobs. I know there are countless others in need of prayer as well. How do these difficult times impact lives, not just the lives of those who are suffering, but also the lives of those caring for, praying for, and supporting them? Can anything good come from pain and loss?

When I think back on my own hard times, I know that pain and fear and suffering have certainly shaped and molded me over the years. I know that I’m stronger for having survived the experiences. Caring for my children when they were little taught me a lot, and has given me some wisdom to pass on to my daughters when they’ve asked for advice while caring for their little ones. Strength and wisdom alone might be worth some of the tough stuff life deals out, but amazingly, there’s even more to be gained. Having survived the storms when life’s waves whipped my boat around, has allowed me to be more peaceful and calm when new storms blow up. Having seen the sun return after stormy skies clear, has reminded me that my little ones will heal, rest will come to the weary, and somehow, needs will most often be met, even in the bleakest times. Like I’ve often said, mountain tops offer beautiful views, but up there on the highest mountains, where the view is perhaps the most spectacular, the peaks are barren, nothing grows, and it is in the valleys where the fruit hangs heavy on the vines. I love the mountaintop experiences, I need them; but I know that if I’m to grow and become the woman I’m meant to be, I have to walk through the valleys too.

I’ve been thinking about some of this lately, because I have had so many friends walking through such challenging valleys. My prayer times have been filled with more pleading than praise, and my heart has been heavier with the awareness that so many people are being buffeted by life’s storms and unexpected challenges. As often happens, God sent me some words of wisdom, this time through a magazine. Since I was a little girl at my grandmother’s house, I’ve enjoyed reading Guideposts—it always inspires me. Here are the words I found so encouraging in the February edition, a quote from a gentleman named Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest who said, “Heartbreaks, disappointments and even our own weaknesses can serve as stepping stones to the second half of life transformation. Failings are the foundation for growth. Those who have fallen, failed or ‘gone down’ are the only ones who understand ‘up.’” And I heartily agree, for in sickness, I appreciate health, in loss, I appreciate having, and the list goes on. Just having celebrated my birthday last month reminded me that I’m well into the second half of life, and I’m thankful for the stepping stones that have paved my way so far. Hoping the mountain tops and valleys will be as beautiful and fruitful from here forward.