Chapter Thirteen - Slowly, Then All at Once
Someone recently asked me why I love the mountains. Why do I love climbing them when the climb itself is often painful, tedious, daunting, miserable? I didn’t know how to answer him. Then today, perusing old notes and drafts, I discovered that the answer had been written in part three years ago. What began as a blog post drifted into a lengthy personal crisis of heart and mind that I was not prepared to face. It ended in me lying on a mattress facing a cinderblock Honduran wall, my mind swirling, tears falling silently so as not to disturb my roommates. I strained to see a vision through the fog, but exhaustion and resignation were the victor that night. I was wrestling with fear and a call. I knew in my heart that God was calling me to leave Kansas City. I didn’t have the courage to acknowledge this, much less follow through. I was too ashamed to re-read what I’d written, let alone post it. What if I posted it, and then remained a coward? I was afraid to appear foolish, ...