Stop and listen to your heartbeat. Stop and think about all that is going on right now in your body. It’s amazing. You’re amazing. Do you ever stop and just think that? How is it that you even ‘work’?
And if you’re reading this and your health is something that’s a struggle for you, think on this: at least you can understand what you’re reading right now – and the emotion it evokes means that at whatever level, you’re ‘working’.
That’s pretty cool.
I was watching my 9-year old sleep last night. His eyes rolling under his eyelids. His lips twitching, sometimes forming a split-second smile. His shallow breathing because of the smaller lung size. Amazing. And I did that.
Well, ok I didn’t. But you know what I mean. God did. That’s some crazy stuff. From dust to a soul that steals my heart.
I went for a hike with one of my closest friends today. Talking about nonessentials and the stuff that matters most, we traversed over terrain that even a month ago I would have considered impossible.
At times we’d stop and just try to take it all in:
The warmth from the sun resting in the crisp, deep blue cloudless sky.
The air as it carried the chill from the frozen stream and the scent from fallen pines. The crunch of snow and the rolling pebbles cascading down.
And my own heartbeat, just like I had been listening to Luke’s the night before.
In this small experience through my limited perspective, I could imagine God looking down after creating it a while back and saying, “It is good.” Then, before I even knew it was coming out, I said it – and really meant it – “God, you really are good.” Despite it all, it still just spilled out of me, reassuring me that I hadn’t lost the thankfulness for the way He works, in big and very small ways.
And I hope that in that moment, God could see His creation among His creation, with a grateful heart and that it too was ‘good’, maybe even by human terms, miraculous – considering. I know it was for me.
At one point, we reached a spot where the tracks in the snow just stopped. Looking up, we saw that our pristine lake destination was going to elude us. I was on such a high that I decided to climb the frozen waterfall blocking our way. After all, I’d faced much bigger obstacles than that.
This, my friend, is never a good idea.
Sliding back down (not on purpose), I found myself massaging muscles that I didn’t know I had regained, or ever had for that matter. Even with a few abrasions, the only thing that was really hurt was my pride.
On the way back down the mountain, I knew that my fear of ‘normalizing’ after this experience was once and for all put to rest. Never again will I be able to see nature, relationships, or the value of a human life the same.
And that is good.