When I first started blogging, I met Nancy, and we've been "pretend friends" ever since. She is a writer that explores her faith in a thought provoking way, but she adds a little salt and pepper to her posts to make it interesting. Plus, she posted a video of the Muppets doing a Patriotic number on her Facebook account for the 4th of July and you know I'm a sucker for Muppets. Sam the American Eagle? Love.
Anyway, I adore Nancy, and I think you should all be reading her blog (if you aren't now). She inspires me and makes me laugh, which is a nearly impossible feat.
I asked Nancy to write about her belief that God really is GOOD. Check out her blog, follow her on Twitter or, if you are basically interested in Muppet videos (aren't we all) follow her on Facebook.
Thank you for sharing your story, Nancy. It's beautiful.
Anyway, I adore Nancy, and I think you should all be reading her blog (if you aren't now). She inspires me and makes me laugh, which is a nearly impossible feat.
I asked Nancy to write about her belief that God really is GOOD. Check out her blog, follow her on Twitter or, if you are basically interested in Muppet videos (aren't we all) follow her on Facebook.
Thank you for sharing your story, Nancy. It's beautiful.
See that mountain lake I’m hiking toward in the distance? There was a time when I wasn’t sure it really existed.
My husband, the beloved Swede, is a wilderness hiking-guy extraordinaire. During last summer’s vacation, he suggested a hike near Crested Butte, Colorado, leading to a place called Copper Lake. The trail began at 9600 feet of elevation (where there is no oxygen) and climbed to a height of 11,300 feet (where there is even less of the stuff).
A local trail guide described the hike this way, “An easy grade for 3 miles up Copper Creek. The trail rises quickly for the last mile to Copper Lake.” With few cairns or trail markers to tell us how far we’d hiked or how much further we had left to go, some of us (who weren’t in as good shape or nearly as Scandinavian as others) started getting a little frustrated and cranky. Certain we had to be on that last steep mile, I began singing to myself, “All, my trials Lord; soon be over . . .”
I insisted to my husband, “We’re almost there. Right???!!!!”
After more hiking and climbing, profuse sweating and oxygen deprivation, I may have accidentally screamed, “There is no lake at the end of this trail!”
My husband reminds me of that hike from time to time, when he sees me getting tired and frustrated by life’s twists and turns. At times, God has asked me to walk paths that were difficult, ones fraught with dangers, toils, and snares. He’s called me to climb hills I didn’t particularly want to climb. And sometimes I’ve gotten tired and cranky, and begun to question God’s goodness.
I was devastated when I learned my body was incapable of making babies. My husband and I prayed, we sought medical treatment, we pursued adoption. This was not the path we had envisioned for our lives. It was hard. It was painful, humiliating and expensive. We had no idea how long our journey would last or whether, at the end of it, there would be babies.
Looking back on our journey through infertility and adoption, I see the places where God met, encouraged, and sustained us. We had dear friends sharing a similar struggle who walked with us along the way. Our insurance covered most of our expenses. I had a friend whose sister was the social worker for our adoption at the local office of Bethany Christian Services. God demonstrated His goodness, not only in satisfying our desire for children, but also in placing His hand upon and giving us the very ones He knew we needed.
I cannot imagine my life without them.
I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD . . . wrote the psalmist (Psalm 27:4, NAS). I’ve been walking another difficult road lately. Some of it has been a fairly steep climb. At times, I’ve been certain I was nearing the end; the clearing was almost within view. Then the road turned sharply and unexpectedly and began to climb again. I’ve been tempted to curl up in a heap alongside the road and give up in despair. I’ve wanted to scream in agony. But I cling to the words of the Psalmist, and I remember where God has demonstrated His goodness to me in the past. I look for the signposts and the cairns along the way, evidence of His presence with me, and I find strength for each stumbling, faltering step. And I continue on.
Because sometimes, as my husband reminds me, I just have to trust that there really is a lake at the end of the trail.