Climbing
I’m 60 feet off the ground. It took so long to climb this high. What can I do but keep grabbing and pulling prongs? How high can I go before I’m at the peak of my comfort zone and have to stop? I hope such a height never comes, that I’ll only want more of a challenge once I get higher than I thought I could. The ladder becomes a thin line that vanishes into the clouds above me. As I step up again, I start to shake. If I stand here for a few days, it’ll stop and I’ll be ready for the next increment.
I’m 70 feet off the ground. Shouts from the ground still haunt me every day: “Stop climbing, it’s safe and fun down here! What do you think you’re doing?” The more I worry about what’s going on behind me, the less I’m focused on what’s ahead of me. A carelessly misplaced foot slips and throws my mind into chaos. A flash of terror takes my breath and all confidence. My heart races and I feel like giving up. I have to say it out loud. “I can’t look back and loose my concentration like that. All that matters is what’s ahead!”
I’m 80 feet off the ground. A storm hits me. Clouds hide the sun I was climbing towards. All warmth and comfort is suddenly gone. I feel alone, up in the air, attacked by waves of blistering rain that weigh me down and make the prongs almost too hard to hold onto. I can’t let go! The fall would slay me, even if I were still alive on the outside and safely on the ground once more. This is the ladder I must climb, and I will hold onto it with all that I have, even as the rain turns to hail and then to ice. I know the sun will shine on me again. All I can do is hold a close, tight grip on the ladder and wait.
I’m 83 feet off the ground. It’s been so long that I’ve been moving so painfully, so slowly up the ladder. The sun strikes through the clouds and lands on my body and mind again. My stiff, hardened hands break free and begin to grip and pull up faster than ever. I realize the heavy weather has washed away everything that was once behind me, tempting me to climb down. The ground is ruined, foreign, twisted and worthless to me now.
I’m 120 feet off the ground. How many storms lie ahead? They only strengthen my grip. I’m ready for them. I’ll never stop climbing.
Okay, I didn’t get to read this before that is why I hadn’t posted on it. What can I say but ‘wow dude!’ I love it when words paint pictures and you did that, awesome. If only I could remember the ‘after the storm’ when going into one… hehe that would help a lot. Here’s to keeping your head in the Son!