An old friend used to tease me that I couldn’t tell the difference between a hill and a mountain. I was always quick to retort that what I called a mountain was indeed such, a hill is a bump you ride your bike over or sled down. A mountain was anything bigger than that, ranging from the rises I saw above the horizon to the Rockies I had once previewed in Colorado. Yet he continued to insist that nothing could be qualified a mountain except that which compared to the ranges he had grown up knowing. What it came down to was perspective. For a girl raised in flat-land-for-miles-to-see-Virginia-Beach, the only bump in our topography was a man made hiccup of a hill which ran between the lanes on the main road. So if I could see it from a mile or so away, it was, in fact, a mountain.
This weekend I was able to travel to a place I have long made fun of but never visited (though my brother was quick to remind me of the time I accidentally ended up in WV when I was trying to drive my freshman roommate to State College, PA) to celebrate the upcoming wedding of one of my dearest friends. I assumed it would look different but I should have looked more closely at the map. Luckily I am now driving the younger and more able Bumblebee; I’m fairly certain Laverne may have met her death on those inclines and hairpin turns. The roads and foliage were reminiscent of the drive to the orphanage in Swaziland, I remembered wondering how in the world people managed to live in a place with such a different terrain than what I have known on the east coast. I had also been scared our bus would break down and we would have to hike the last leg of the journey.
For over an hour I scaled up and down and around, feeling the pressure change in my ear drums. I saw tiny old towns and quaint stores and small school houses. My favorite sight was the parade of trailers parked down by the river with scraggly bearded men fishing and swimming off the dock. It was like a country song come to life. I should know, as I was forced to listen to country and only country for the majority of the trip. West Virginia must work some magic where country twang is the only sound allowed to escape from the radio waves.
It was some point on the trip back (I had taken a different route than the way I came, which unbeknownst to me proved to be more mountainous) that I really began to realize how little I knew about mountains. Sure I had finally seen them, but in different countries. Not so close to my home. And not when I had been the one driving. As I watched the path of my little car twist and turn on the GPS screen (I needed someway to track what was up ahead!) I realized that I had no way of knowing how long I would be crossing that mountain range. Whenever I thought I was done descending an ascent began again and I hit the gas once more. Yet the whole time I was still moving ahead, I was still making progress.
At just the right time, I once read the statement “you don’t know what you can get through until you face it.” I like to finish that with, “until you get through it.” No one wakes up one day and says “I want to conquer ::insert incredible challenge that is not relevant to their life:: today!” We only take on those things that are brought across our paths, perhaps causes we rally around but most often, and more realistically, we face the things we must because they are thrust upon our path, because there is no other way. The best way out is through. You may not know how long the journey will last or where it will take you, but the quickest way to find out is to forge ahead.
I’m not sure if I’ve crossed some hills or mountains or both. Maybe one day I’ll face something that will make all previous excursions seem like highway medians. But you don’t know until you’re out, and can look with perspective. When you’re trekking up, down, and around, all you can do is keep going through until you reach the other side.
Oh, and you can do one more thing. Choose joy.
“If you’re going through hell, keep going.” -Winston Churchill
“For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” Hebrews 12:11 ESV
ambermorganphillips 