So often people want to live on the mountaintop. Don’t we all love the mountaintop experiences? They are fulfilling, and exciting, and joyful. But mountaintops are really for the view and for inspiration. Fruit doesn’t grow on the mountaintops. Fruit grows in the depth of the valleys. Are you going through a difficult time? Read more for encouragement.
Do you ever wonder how your efforts for today will pay off tomorrow? Do you ever wonder whether or not what you are doing now will make any impact? Or how to know if what you are doing is the right thing or right way?
I live in a household of runners. My husband was a runner in high school, and still enjoys running for exercise. His father used to run in college. My oldest son ran on the cross country and track teams in high school. Now my youngest son runs on those same teams.
I was recently at one of his track meets and God met me there.
I recently traveled to the west coast to record a video-promo for the 2018 Women of Joy conferences, preach at a church, and then record a tv interview. One of my favorite places in all the world is the beach. After completing my scheduled work, a friend treated me to a couple hours at a pier overlooking the ocean and beach. That is where my soul finds peace.
As I stood up on the pier, I had the delight of watching surfers in the way-too-cold water sizing up the waves to glide in toward shore…
With quivering movements, I put my pencil to the page and begin the first stroke. I continued until the piece is almost complete. Then I began the shading; under the eye, the neckline, then finally the hair. The paper transformed from a blank page with a single stroke into a piece of art. Our first stroke is our first breath. Each breath we take adds to our piece of art. Just imagine, a hallway filled with incomplete canvases. Some are nearly blank while others are almost complete.
He looked tenderly in my eyes, glanced back at the monitor willing it to sound the usual comforting rhythmic beat before looking back at me and gently alerting me to the new reality of my condition. “I hate to tell you this, but the baby no longer has a heartbeat.”
“What?! No!!” I looked at the doctor and then at my husband who was standing next to the table I was on. We both looked at the monitor and then the doctor in disbelief. “There must be a mistake. Look again,” I begged as tears began to roll down my cheeks.