Today felt like a mountain.
I woke to the sound of water running in the bathroom sink, my husband getting ready for breakfast out with some buddies…and I didn’t feel like putting my feet on the floor and starting my day.
I didn’t feel like moving.
But it was 6:15 am and the alarm was going off for the third time, and ready or not, life happens and morning comes, fully rested or not.
So I got up and my wake-up morning emotion was feeling… completely overwhelmed.
How to enjoy the day when my heart beats fast and crazy, my head spins uncontrollably, everything looking, feeling, being frantic frenzy?
I want to fall back into the sheets and pull the covers over my head.
But there’s a mountain to climb.
At three am, the hikers rose. There was a mountain to climb. It was my man’s first time, but they do it every year. Did you know that three am is never too early when you’re conquering a giant rock with friends and good hiking boots?
Here they are! They defeated Mt. Katahdin, the end point for the Appalachian Trail.
It was a feat that brought them to the point of sheer exhaustion. But the big yawns and the heavy eyelids accompanied by large smiles of satisfaction later that evening. They had conquered Katahdin. Made memories. Grown stronger. It was an accomplishment that deserved three hundred plus pictures capturing the moments.
There are no pictures of the mountain I climbed today.
But I did climb.
Through feelings of exhaustion and the lack of motivation and the need for more sleep and the anxiety of hosting a large group of people. I climbed with my friend Jeanie, who gave her whole morning to help me bake. Her smile was better than a good pair of hiking boots.
I enjoyed the evening. All anxiety and weariness faded in the laughter and teasing, the early, surprise, “just right” birthday gift from my thoughtful friend Mari, my husband whispering “I think you’re amazing”, the kinship of campfire and friends.
Ann Voskamp once said, “I will not desecrate this moment with ignorant hurry or sordid ingratitude.”
How many moments have I desecrated with my frantic frenzy – mental or physical? How many moments have I missed? How many people have I brushed past? How many scenic views have escaped my notice because I couldn’t look up from the climb to see?