Sometimes when the sky fills with a gray storm flurry
pelting me with hail and fail and impossibilities,
I slide from behind my laptop,
stiff from laboring in my seat,

My body chilled, but hands hot from pounding out words that find no purchase,
and throw on some spandex.
Then I face the floor and push it away,
arms burning,two, six, ten
begin again.
The floor appears to be a wall that won’t move
but I keep pushing it away
soon, my arms have developed enough strength to lift
Back straight, eyes ahead
looking beyond that storm which is not
strong enough to hold me down.

Dreamscape: A Climb

There’s always a new thing to learn. Sometimes its fun, this new venture, and God is so gracious to give the tools to get started.

Things start a bit wobbly, but with a smooth path the breeze sends me a kiss.

A hill stands in the way, and I pump my legs until they burn.
They ache and tremble with the effort,
So I rest, and try again the next day.
And the next,
and the next, until that ache turns into solid strength.

I can go against the wind now, and there’s joy in that.

When I think of the next mountain, I realize that my best tools are the ones made through the pain.

And I begin again.

He gives strength to the weary and increase the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary,

and young men stumble and fall;

but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:29-31