Bill...stood the test...receiving the crown of life

       "Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love Him." (James 1:12)
       Thank You, Lord, for Your always timely, always good, always powerful Word.
       I read these words from the book of James just this morning and immediately the smiling face and twinkling eyes of a remarkable man, Bill Duff, came to mind.  For you see, after a difficult battle with cancer, Bill went on home to be with the Lord yesterday evening--and this man described in James sounds exactly like Bill.  Bill was "steadfast under trial."  He "stood the test."  And now, Bill is the one who is "blessed" and,  at this very moment is receiving "the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love Him."
       You know, I hate cancer.  I hate this horrible disease that has robbed our world, even just in the past few weeks here in Raleigh--of such wonderful, godly, amazing individuals like Bill Duff and Paul Creech.  Cancer has taken from us so many other infinitely precious mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, and friends...and they've been taken from us too soon.  Way too soon.
       But that's from my very limited perspective.  I only glimpse a very tiny, very limited little piece on the back of the canvas--all those ugly, little loose strings on the backside of the needlepoint.  
      God, on the other hand, understands and sees it all--the enormously huge whole, not just a tiny portion.  Moreover, our Lord sees, plans, and creates from the right side of the canvas--not from the confusing back but from the front where the beautiful needlepoint design is revealed in all it's intricacy, glory, and wonder.
       I have absolutely no doubt that if Bill, or Paul, or Rebecca, or my Daddy, or any of the dear folks we've all prayed for so long and hard could speak to us right now, they would tell us, "Mine is the greater deliverance!"  They would declare that God's sovereign timing is perfect--never too early, never too late.  And despite all the people still here that love them and want them here,  they would not want to come back to this old sin-sick planet, for they have seen, heard, felt, experienced such glorious things beyond anything any of us could dare to dream or imagine.
       Think of it: united with loved ones who have gone on home before them.  Enjoying Life as it was meant to be truly lived and enjoyed--devoid of all sin, sorrow, separation--only joys unending. Exploring worlds and glimpsing glories beyond all comprehension.  Gazing upon the gracious, beautiful, and infinitely loving face of Jesus.  They would be astounded that we could even wish them to come back here!  How can one consider leaving perfect love, perfect glory, perfect wonder, perfect peace, perfect beauty, perfect joy?
       None of us could even begin to contemplate such a sacrifice...but Jesus did.
       He relinquished it all...that we, and Bill, and Paul, and so many countless others--might receive it all.  What a Savior.  What a Lord.
      We grieve today.  As I look out on the rain pouring down outside, I think, yes, even the earth weeps for our temporary loss of Bill.  But even as I write those words, I realize it's not true--Bill's not lost.  No, something can only be lost if you don't know where it is.  We know exactly where Bill is, for because Jesus was His Lord and Savior, we know, know know precisely where he is right this very moment: rejoicing in glory and experiencing the infinite wonders of heaven.  Incredible.
      Bill's not "lost"...just out of our range of vision...for a little while.  A very little while.  But one glorious day, we will see him again.  And I'm just betting he'll have that familiar old twinkle in his eye!
      "I shall rise from the dead...I shall see the Son of God, the Sun of Glory, and shine myself as that sun shines.  I shall be united to the Ancient of Days, to God Himself, who had no morning, never began...No man ever saw God and lived.  And yet, I shall not live till I see God; and when I have seen Him, I shall never die." (John Donne)
      Thank You, thank You, thank You, Lord Jesus.  Thank You for coming. Thank You for dying.  Thank You for rising from the dead...that we might live.  Forever.  And ever.
      To God be the glory.

New morning...new mercies

                            A little food for weekend thought--

        How many times have I quoted these verses?  A bunch...but they're pure gold, so here they are again--"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (Lam.3:22-23)
        I love those words on so many levels.  First, consider the source...that is, the name of the Old Testament book and the writer.  Lamentation--the dictionary defines the word as "the passionate expression of grief or sorrow; weeping."  The book of Lamentations was written after the complete destruction and desolation of the nation of Judah after the fall of the city of Jerusalem in 586 B.C.  It was a horrific time--God's chosen people were decimated and exiled by the ruthless nation of Babylon.  And the author who recounts this terrible period was Jeremiah--also known as "the weeping prophet"--for he grieved over his people's sin and their defeat and utter destruction suffered as a result of their disobedience and rejection of God.
        Yet, right in the midst of so much sorrow and desolation comes this magnificent truth: God's love never, ever ceases.  His mercies never, ever end.  His faithfulness is great beyond all our imagining and infinitely beyond our deserving.  And, perhaps best of all from the standpoint of us frail, temporary little dust people--His mercies are brand new every single morning.
        He will never run out or run low of His mercies.  Moreover, God will give us a daily fresh supply of His mercies.  Those mercies will be abundantly more than any need that will arise each and every day.  And the Lord will provide that brand new mercy for every situation we will face each day--just what we need, just when we need it,  tailor-made just for us, and always more than "just enough."
        We don't need to look back longingly at yesterday's mercies and wonder if they can possibly sustain us today.  Nope, our Father has fresh, perfect mercies ready and available for us today.
        We don't need to look ahead with worry and anxiety, fearing that perhaps His mercies will be inadequate for tomorrow or next week or next year.  No way!  Like that manna God provided every morning for His people wandering in the desert under Moses, God's mercies will be brand new each and every morning for each and every day...and we can count on it just as surely as we count on the sun rising every morning.  If there will be a new day tomorrow...then there will be new mercies from God to carry us through.
         "His mercies are new every morning."  Aren't you thankful?
        I love these words on this from Paul David Tripp: "Post those six words on the mirror that you look into each morning.  Affix them on the door of your refrigerator.  Tape them to the dashboard of your car.  Glue them on the inside of your glasses. Put them somewhere where you will see them every day.  Don't allow yourself to have a view of yourself, of others, of circumstances, of daily joys and struggles, of God, of meaning and purpose, and what life is all about that is devoid of this gorgeous redemptive reality: mercy....Let these amazing words sink in.  If you are God's child, they describe your identity and your hope.  They give you reason to get up in the morning and to continue.  They enable you to face and admit how messed up you really are.  They allow you to extend mercy to the failing people around you.  And they allow you to be comforted by God's presence rather than be terrified at the thought that He is near."
          Yes, indeed, praise God that "His mercies are new every morning!"
          Today, right now, will you thank your gracious, generous Father for His tender mercies He has for you this very day?  Tomorrow, the moment your eyes open for a new day, awaken with joy and hope, knowing His mercies are new yet again and will be exactly what you need for the day.  And as you look to the future, choose to live with faith and without fear for you can rest secure in the certain knowledge that God's mercies will be ever new, ever sufficient, and ever powerful.  For His mercies rest upon His perfect, eternal faithfulness and love.
          New morning...new mercies...never failing.  To God be the glory.

College...neat bedrooms...and love

        About a week ago, our son, Preyer, was playing tee ball at the Salvation Army--

        Then, when I turned my head away for a moment, he was suddenly in elementary school and wrestling with his brothers in our front yard (Preyer's the one in the middle)--

        And then, foolish mama that I am (though I'd been warned time and again), I looked away for another millisecond, and it was time to pack him up for college.  Suddenly, our busy, noisy, messy home of seven...has become a terribly quiet and much neater home of three.  I walked upstairs to his room and have never ever seen it so clean--beds made, clothes put away, books shelved, and no papers, ipod, phone charger, golf hats, or gum wrappers on the floor.
        So clean...and I'm wondering why I ever could have gotten upset about messy bedrooms.
        But here's the thing: a few years back, God gave us an enormous gift in Janie's accident that has helped prepare us for these hard moments.  For we learned then that each day, each moment, is precious and never-to-be-repeated.  When Janie left to go to the lake that day, I had been distracted, talking on the phone, and so I failed to tell her I love her.  I've made plenty of mistakes as a parent (in fact, that's a huge understatement), but never again have I failed to tell my children I love them whenever we say goodbye--whether for an hour or a month.  "I love you...salt and light, make a difference."  Pretty much every time, every child, year after year.
        Because people are precious, life is short, but God is big.
        So for the last several years, messy bedrooms haven't bothered me.  Almost never do they cause me to fuss and fume.
         I can make a bed and gather clothes from the floor...I can't make a moment or gather lost time with those I love.  While we have them...we need to love them with all our hearts...even with all their--and our--imperfections.
        Like Michelangelo's unfinished statutes I talked about the other day--those we love are slowly being formed into God's masterpieces...but we need eyes to see and hearts to love, trust, forgive, encourage, and help them along the way.  So don't waste so much time and attention on the minor stuff that won't matter a hill of beans in few years.  Yes, we need to train and teach our children...but more importantly we need to love and treasure them, for we will not have them forever.  And when we look at their empty rooms after they've left for college, we won't be focused on their neatness but on their preciousness.  
       Preyer's battered old car all packed up this morning, we prepared to head to college--

       Moved his stuff into the dorm room--

      And ate one more lunch with him and some dear friends, the Pages, before we headed back home and left our priceless, irreplaceable gift of Preyer at college.

       Lots of tears...but lots of thankfulness.  Thank You, Father, for the joyous privilege of knowing, raising and loving this young man.  Thank You that he loves You and seeks to bring You glory with his life.  Thank You for allowing imperfect, sinless, often clueless parents like us, enjoy the happy wonder of raising children.  Wow, might we never get over the gift of that!
      Thank You that our children are doing exactly what You've called them to do--grow up, leave our little nest, and fly out into the world to make a difference for You.  Oh Father, please protect them, guide them, guard them, strengthen them, encourage them, and use them to show the world Your greatness and Your glory.
       Most of all, thank You, thank You, thank You for allowing me to be their mama.  Got to quote him once again, old, wise Dr. Suess: "Don't cry because it's over...smile because it happened."  And by the way--it's not over till we get to heaven...and then it will really be just beginning!  So keep loving, treasuring, savoring, and smiling.
       To God be the glory.
     
       

Unfinished sculptures to masterpieces

          "And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.  For this comes from the Lord who is Spirit...So we do not lose heart.  Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.  For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.  For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." (2 Cor.3:18, 4:16-18)
           Since we arrived home from Italy, my mind continues to mine the treasure trove of wonderful, beautiful memories shared with my girls.  Oh how I thank the Lord for the priceless gift of those days with each of them.  Someone asked me yesterday what was my favorite part of the trip, and my immediate answer was, "Being with our girls and sharing it all with them."  Special places are wonderful...but beloved people are what really give our life joy and meaning.  And sharing special places with beloved people, well, it doesn't get any better than that!
          But of all the amazing things we had the privilege of seeing,  there's probably one image that stands out most in my heart and mind.  It was in Florence at the Accademia Gallery.  We walked down a wide hallway containing six unfinished statues by Michelangelo and at far end of that hallway glimpsed the magnificent statue of David.
          The unfinished works were powerfully moving--we felt we were watching someone ensnared in the marble, and they were struggling to break free.

A version of the Pieta--

 Moses holding a copy of the 10 Commandments--

   And then the majestic David, standing under the dome at the end of the hall:

       As we drew closer to Michelangelo's David, we marveled at the incredible power, beauty, and pulsing life.  He seemed ready to step off that platform and confront the giant Goliath.  What a look of incredible determination and strength he has on his face.  The veins bulge in his neck and along his right arm and hand holding the stone...an indication of the adrenaline pumping throughout his body as he stared at the Philistine giant who was hurling insults at the God David loved.  It's simply unimaginable that an artist could fashion something like this out of a giant piece of hard, lifeless stone.
          And what makes it even more remarkable is that the block of marble he used was considered defective.  Several other sculptors had tried to use it and said it was of inferior quality and couldn't be used to make any kind of sculpture.  (So many life lessons just in that!  God makes no mistakes, and by His grace, He loves to take nobodies and turn them into somebodies.  What a God we serve...but that's for another day!  Back to David and the unfinished sculptures.)  

          As the girls and I discussed all this later, Mary Norris said Michelangelo's unfinished sculptures and his David reminded her of a powerful quote by Tim Keller about marriage.  I loved his words and thought I'd share them here.  Pretty long, but so worth it!--

         “What, then, is marriage for? It is for helping each other to become our future glory-selves, the new creations that God will eventually make us. The common horizon husband and wife look toward is the Throne, and the holy, spotless, and blameless nature we will have.

Have you ever traveled to a mountainous part of the world when it was cloudy and rainy? You look out your windows and you can see almost nothing but the ground. Then the rain stops and the clouds part and you catch your breath because there, towering right over you, is this magnificent peak. But a couple of hours later the clouds roll in and it has vanished, and you don’t see it again for a good while. That is what it is like to get to know a Christian.

         You have an old self and a new self (Ephesians 4:24). The old self is crippled with anxieties, the need to prove yourself, bad habits you can’t break, and many besetting sins and entrenched character flaws. The new self is still you, but you liberated from all your sins and flaws.

This new self is always a work in progress, and sometimes the clouds of the old self make it almost completely invisible. But sometimes the clouds really part, and you see the wisdom, courage, and love of which you are capable. It is a glimpse of where you are going.

         Within this Christian vision for marriage, here’s what it means to fall in love. It is to look at another person and get a glimpse of the person God is creating, and to say, “I see who God is making you, and it excites me! I want to be part of that. I want to partner with you and God in the journey you are taking to his throne. And when we get there, I will look at your magnificence and say, ‘I always knew you could be like this. I got glimpses of it on earth, but now look at you!’”

Each spouse should see the great thing that Jesus is doing in the life of their mate through the Word, the gospel. Each spouse then should give him- or herself to be a vehicle for that work and envision the day that you will stand together before God, seeing each other presented in spotless beauty and glory.

         My wife, Kathy, often says that most people, when they are looking for a spouse, are looking for a finished statue when they should be looking for a wonderful block of marble. Not so you can create the kind of person you want, but rather because you see what kind of person Jesus is making.

When Michelangelo was asked how he carved his magnificent David, his reply is reputed to have been, “I looked inside the marble and just took away the bits that weren’t David.” When looking for a marriage partner, each must be able to look inside the other and see what God is doing and be excited about being part of the process of liberating the emerging “new you.”

         'If we let Him . . . He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, a dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful; but that is what we are in for. Nothing less.' (C.S. Lewis)"

         That's what God is doing with and for every single one of us--as Paul says, we are "being transformed" into the beautiful likeness of Christ--from "one degree of glory to another."  It's a long, slow, painful process, and some days we may feel as if we--or those we love--may never change.  We may even despair that those rough edges of marble will never be chiseled away...oh, but they will.                God is creating His uniquely designed masterpiece in and with each of us, and only heaven will ultimately reveal the magnificent finished product.
         So until that day, might we trust the Perfect Sculptor who makes no mistakes and produces only beautiful, one-of-a-kind perfection in every one of His creations.  Let's trust the Master Artist with who--and how--He is sculpting us and those that we love.
        And might we lovingly join Him in His creative work with those people He has placed in our lives--whether our spouses, our children, our friends, or our family--by encouraging, exhorting, strengthening, building up, forgiving, and loving them.  Seeing their "unfinished sculptures" with eyes of faith and love, because we trust and know that God--even in this very moment--is fashioning a magnificent, wondrous David out of a roughhewn block of marble.  
        For that is exactly what He is doing..."nothing less."  To God be the glory.

The Colosseum Cross

         Standing before the ruins of the mighty Romans in their capital city has been an amazing experience.  Our guide tells us about the huge temples, the beautiful porticos, the graceful basilicas of the Forum, and you stare in wonder at these places you've heard and read about...and here they are.  Real places, real people.
         You see part of the steps where Mark Anthony eulogized Caesar.  You hear of the remarkable engineering brilliance of this culture, their power over nearly all of the known world...and yet everywhere you look in Rome, you see crosses.
         The mighty, seemingly omnipotent Roman empire...yet towering over all the ruins, magnificence, and opulence is a symbol of seeming shame, defeat, and despair: the cross of crucifixion.  No Roman citizen could be crucified--too shameful and ignominious a death for a true Roman.
         But not for the Creator, Sustainer, and Savior of the world.
        He suffered the lowest, most despicable, most painful of deaths for us.  And now, the mighty, unconquerable Roman empire stands in ruins...and His cross still stands.  A symbol of His conquering love...His powerful grace...His infinite forgiveness...His awesome goodness, righteousness, and mercy.
         Later in the day, we rounded a corner, and there it was--the Colosseum.

        Truly staggering in it's size, stunning in it's construction, and moving in it's sorrowful and tragic loss of so much innocent blood--both man and beast.
        As we stood staring out over the ruins of the Colosseum, my eye was drawn to the cross that now stands in the very place where the emperor's box was located.  

           As we stood staring out over the ruins of the Colosseum, my eye was drawn to the cross that now stands in the very place where the emperor's box was located.  (It's a dark, metal one in the center of the picture.)

          The cross--the terrible, beautiful, shameful, glorious cross.

         As we stood staring at the colosseum, our guide explained that the emperor who completed the construction of this incredible structure was a man named Augustus.  "Augustus?  As in Caesar Augustus?" I asked her.  Yes, the very same.

           I gasped as suddenly my mind went straight to the words we've all heard countless times, at countless Christmases: "In those days, Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman Roman world." (Luke 2:1)  And so a poor, powerless, unknown little carpenter and his wife set out from the tiny, dusty village of Nazareth to register in his hometown of Bethlehem...all because of a decree of a mighty Roman emperor.
            Little did Augustus imagine sitting in his opulent palace, surrounded by his unconquerable army, enjoying unprecedented luxury and adulation, that an awesome God he could not see was the One who was really controlling, superintending, and ordering all things--ALL things--for God's purposes, for our good, for His glory.  The Lord was sovereignly ordaining and using a pagan Roman emperor's decree so that Scripture would be fulfilled that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem.
             Despite every possible appearance to the contrary, mighty Augustus was not the one in charge.  God was.  And is.  And always will be.  A cross would conquer not only a king and a kingdom...but sin and death for you, for me, for all of mankind.  
             And so at the center of the awe-inspiring Colosseum stands a simple, but infinitely more powerful, beautiful, and eternal cross.  Oh thank You, thank You, thank You, Father.
            No matter what is going on in your life, there is One who is fully in control and is sovereignly working all, all, all things out for your good and His glory.  
            To God be the glory.

A day in Florence

Suddenly, our nation feels like a newborn...or at most, perhaps, a two month old infant.  Here in Florence, we're seeing all kinds of churches and buildings erected in the 12th, 13th, 14th, and 15th centuries.  Just yesterday when we learned of statues carved or slight changes made to the famous Duomo in the 1800's, it felt like current news.  Amazing how your perspective on age and history changes in light of such remarkably old beauty all around you.  

After a day-long walking tour of the city, my head is spinning with historical dates all the way back to Roman times and lovely-sounding Italian names I cannot pronounce and certainly could never spell.  All I can say is "Wow!"  

In one corner below, there was a building from the 12th century, one from the 13th, and another from the 14th, and a column from yet another...all within feet of  one another, happily coexisting.  All magnificent and strong.  

       You can't help but ponder what their lives, their families, their day to day existence must have been like.  Wonder if they ever in their wildest dreams imagined that centuries and centuries later, we would be staring in amazement at the places they lived and loved, worked and worried, laughed and cried?  After all, they were regular old folks like us in so many ways--with their own dreams and hopes, fears and foibles. They were just living their lives one day at a time, walking these very streets we now walk.  What a reminder--life is brief, eternity long, people and the Lord are what matter.  
        Everyday, we pretty much hit the ground running: touring, walking, and, of course, eating, from dawn to dusk.  Look up the definition of "a hole-in-the-wall" and you will find there our favorite panini place...located on a tiny side street in Florence.  It's the size of a closet, and you walk in, order your panini and watch them slice the meat and tomatoes right there, put them on the panini they baked that morning, slather on some goat cheese, and toast them in their ancient-looking oven.  Then voila, your sandwich is ready to go.  (And that's a good thing since not one table or chair could fit in this teeny, charming place.)  
        Forget the fancy-smancy meals...give me this panini every time!        

         And believe me, we needed the hearty nourishment, as our "One Glorious Day in Florence" walking tour was fabulous but EXHAUSTING!
        Geez, why is it so hard to stand for hours?  It's not like we were hiking multiple miles.  Nope, not at all.  There was actually very little walking involved.  We were seeing magnificent pieces of art and learning all about the amazing history of Florence (and loving every minute of it!), but we all thought our backs would fall off.  I took to leaning over and touching my toes behind the guide in the middle of the Uffizi gallery...all the while thinking what I really needed to do was lie down and take a teeny tiny little nap in the corner.
        I'm gonna shut up now, but just a little taste from this magnificent gallery--full of works by the likes of Michelangelo, Donatello, Giotto, and Raphael.  Truly takes your breath away (my, I'm mighty full of cliches today).

        Here are some masterpieces of a different kind in the Uffizi--

        They are laughing, because yours truly just looked out a window and banged my head on the glass.  Not that I was humiliated it or anything when the guide looked over at me, had a good laugh, and said loudly over his little microphone for the entire group to hear: "Whoa!  Are you alright?  How did you do that?"  Imagine the sound of widespread laughter.  Sigh.  So glad I could entertain everyone for a few moments and help them forget about their aching backs and swollen feet.

        I can't even remember what this was--Janie told me about 25 times, but what can I say?  Maybe it was the head smash on the window.  But the point is: it was really old, really magnificent, and even had the correct time
        Can you tell it's late at night?  Clearly, I need to call it a day.  Tomorrow, there are still miles to be walked, sculptures to be appreciated, paintings to be enjoyed, pasta to be devoured, gelato to be savored...and moments to be treasured.  Every single one of them.  Oh how thankful I am.  Thank You, Father.
        To God be the glory.

Cinque Terre--the ups and downs

        Hiking in Cinque Terre, Italy--

        We started off in the morning, fresh and ready to tackle the hikes between five beautiful little villages by the Mediterranean Sea.  A hot, sunny morning spent walking beside impossibly blue water.

That's from the trail, looking back down on our "hometown" of Monterosa.  Not that I'm biased or anything, but there's no doubt that Monterosa is totally the best!  
         The walk was lovely, if a bit vigorous at times, to the first two villages.  Both absolutely gorgeous.  At this point, we were still all smiles.  We loved Cinque Terre.  We loved hiking.  We loved it all.  Bring it on, baby!

On the third leg of the hike, things began to change.  Instead of a lovely hike by the sea, we found ourselves crawling up a steep mountain, sometimes heaving ourselves up the rocks.  "This cannot be right!" was repeated a number of times.  

"Has anybody seen the red and white markings for a while?"  Nope, a number of times we lost sight of the trail and had to backtrack--back down steep, rocky trails or crawling back up--till we spotted where we'd lost sight of the trail.  Ugh.  Finally, after climbing to the TOP of the mountain...the trail turned around to head straight back down the other side.   

And I mean down.  Down, down, down...with quads burning and conversation lagging.  

Till we finally hit the village...and lunch.  Hallelujah!  

We discovered that the regular trail between the 3rd and 4th villages had been washed out a few years ago and has been closed since 2011.  So this was the "alternate route"--for insane people.  Like us.  We saw, like, 4 people on the whole trail.  I'm not kidding. And most of them looked like they could compete for the Cross Fit olympics. And then there was us.  Geez. 

But we still had one village to go. Fortunately, this was the shortest and easiest leg--according to the very nice map at the bottom of the village.  Piece of cake.  

Well, not exactly.  We began another backbreaking, NON-family-fun crawl back up the blasted mountain.  Again, all the way to the top of the mountain.  What is the deal with this?  Can't they figure out an alternate trail that doesn't involve traversing the entire mountain?  And did I mention this was a LARGE mountain?

The view was lovely, however...but the village was mighty far away.  Sigh. 

We finally made it to the top of the mountain....but the bad news was, we had to go back down.  For us older folks, this was not welcome news.  I'd rather pull myself up rather than try to avoid killing myself falling down...not to mention my knees and quads were not to pleased about all this.   "I'm not loving Cinque Terre at the moment," I complained.  "Right now, I hate Cinque Terre," was all Janie said as we climbed down, down, down, down.   

We're what you call fair weather friends.

Anyway, turns out the last leg of the trail was also closed so only total maniacs would choose to hike the alternate route...well, maniacs and Fountains who don't know any better.  

The reward was, finally, more beauty.

I must say, I quoted my Aunt Janie about 100 times: "It's meant to be as tough as you can take it!"  

Aunt Janie would have been mighty proud--because it was TOUGH...but great.  

What a reminder that anything worthwhile inevitably requires sacrifice. And hard work.  And a perspective that keeps an eye on the prize.  And always, always a grateful heart.

So thank You, Lord, for the gift of another day...another mountain climbed...and, Lord willing, a fresh new start tomorrow to experience that Your mercies are new every morning.  

Now, where's the Advil?

To God be the glory.