falling.

If there is one word to describe my month in the mountains, it would be a verb. It would be a verb in present, progressive tense. It would be a short word, one which could be yelled out in a moment of panic, pain, or a combination of the two.

That word would be "falling."

I don't know how it came to be my lot for the trip, except that in God's good and wise plans there was some purpose for falling, some lesson to be learned by it that I don't know that I have grasped even yet :). My first fall was on the rocky, sandy slope of a hill. A rock caught my back and shoulder blade on the way down, leaving 2 faint scars about an inch wide. On the second, my hand and inside of my left shin caught the brunt, leaving small scabs and a bruised palm. The final found me slipping down in the dark on a grassy hill (it looked for all the world like it was level), twisting my ankle on the way down. My foot is still bruised and swollen nearly a week later.

Craziness.

I also experienced intense times of falling in spiritual terms during the trip. Not falls into sin, but into the sustaining grace of God. On so many occasions, particularly toward the end of the trip, I was completely at a loss to conduct the work. I had no energy, no strength, no motivation. It is no coincidence that as I was reading through 1 Chronicles, I happened upon chapter 21:13:
"Then David said to Gad, "I am in great distress. Let me fall into the hand of the LORD, for his mercy is very great, but do not let me fall into the hand of man."

Taking the verse out of it's situational context a bit--David had sinned, and was facing God's judgment-- I could relate completely to David's heart and reasoning. I would much rather fall into the hand of God than into any other place (both literally and spiritually!). His heart is completely kind, good, righteous, and faithful.