~The Juxtaposition of Joy~

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 I went on my favorite hike this morning. It's a killer, but I love that about it. The climb to the top, full out, and at a steady, fast clip takes me a good hour, and the trail run down is fast and exhilarating. Simply put: this hike makes me happy~

I got married three weeks ago, almost to the day. He is the love of my life, and the person who I believe deep down that I was created for. He is gone right now. Having left for a two week trip one day after we arrived home from our wedding, my husband went to a far away place, to surf and video and explore, without me....and it hurt deeply.  "Hurt" was soon renamed for what I later uncovered it to really be....fear. Fear that already, as a wife, I was not enough...somehow inadequate to keep my husband happy and fulfilled at home...tears followed, and as internet connection where he's at is very limited, I was left with silence. Deafening silence, and crumbs of communication. Tiny morsel-moments when maybe that day I get a small sliver or snapshot that serves to shrink the space between for even a nanosecond. For these tidbits of time I am truly grateful, yet there still gnaws at me an edge of hunger...for the certainty and security of his strong, affirming, tangible touch.

My hike begins. I waste no time in warming up...I never do. I want to dive in, to charge, to go, go, go....higher. I push myself, and for a solid 45 minutes I climb. I never take breaks...I thrive on the momentum. I use it to spur me forward...launching ahead....up, up, up...focusing on what I know to be waiting for me at the summit...a view unmatched by any other, and a well-earned moment of rest and reprieve---a-high-above-the-clouds communion with my Creator.

At the 45-minute mark, the trail tops off momentarily and plateaus, flattening out along a lovely ridge before dipping down into a forested valley. I remember the first time I went on the hike I thought I had taken a wrong turn, messed up when looking at my map, somehow gotten the directions backwards and was getting further away from what I was seeking......the summit.

This couldn't be right...the hike showed a straight climb upwards...I knew to make it to the top I had so much ground to cover...this couldn't be the best way. Yet I kept going that first time...and that has made all the difference. If I had turned back I never would have known the value of the view that awaited. I had had no other solid signs showing me anywhere else I should be going...so I decided I had to just move forward and trust the trail that so many had traveled before me, that so many had assured me was a good and beautiful trail. A trail well worth every bit of effort it took to tread.

I made it to the summit that day, despite my distrust of the signs, and the momentary fear of the forest valley. And the view, the view that greeted me was healing... I saw the whole island...every part stretched out before me...I could even see way down to the place where I started....it seemed so small to me from such great heights.

As I hiked today, I prayed alot....I always do. I talked to God and just walked with my thoughts....I processed. I praised. I petitioned. (I always do). The climb up is steady, slower, and milder. It allows me to get lost in the sweet silence of the scenery, to create a cyclical rhythm to unwind within--to loosen what during the interim has been tightened or twisted. There is safety in this sure, steady climb. I take a bit more time to enjoy looking around...a moment to marvel at every minute detail of the delicate dwelling place I call home. It is this critical climb that sustains and satisfies that hunger that spurred me towards this trail. I feel steady. I feel sure. I feel calm. I know peace.

Arriving at the top, I almost always am alone. No one ever comes much to this height, and here...here is my earthly Heaven. I say my thanks here. I sing here. I stay here, as long as I need...and I breathe.

As I make my way back down the trail, I run. No, I *catapult* down the mountain. Crashing through the forest, tripping over branches, slipping and sliding on tiny pebbles and making my best attempt at navigating the mud-wracked and moss covered clearings....I fly. Giggling, I let my arms and legs go wherever they may, imagining the flailing, fairy spectacle I am sure to be making should anyone see. But I don't mind....It is exciting. It is exhilarating. I feel free. I know joy.

I thought today, as I was removing my muddy sneakers, how much I feel I learn from the mountains, every time we meet....

I see now, only because I quieted my heart enough to hear...My husband did not abandon me, nor did I drive him away by not being "enough." I love him "enough" to try to see, to seek to understand....that on our journey, he needs it all...WE need it all...and we can have it all---the steady, certainty that comes with routine...the bookending days that bring such comfort and tangible connection. The puzzle parts of the daily that slide together to form that perfect pattern for peace....and the exhilarating open-ended adventure, the freedom to find the passions that prick our hearts and stir us within---the whimsical wonderful bits that beg and bellow for fear of being buried or hidden away...here, here...that juxtaposition of joy.

My husband comes home tomorrow, and I have longed for that moment these whole two weeks. Simply put: these halves can be happy.......can be One. And there is joy, and there is peace~