Mountains to Climb

Sometimes there's a story that haunts you because of its shear beauty and inspiration. When it comes in a package of a woman who has faced hardship with a wicked sense of humor and a tenacious faith in God, it's unforgettable.

Below is a copy of an email from my new friend, Andrea. Before you read this email, you have to know a little of her story. Andrea and her husband have 4 children. The two middle girls are 11-year-old identical twins with cerebral palsy. They are beautiful girls who are confined to wheel chairs and have a vocabulary of about 5 words.

Andrea loves her girls deeply, but life at her house requires lots of hard work and patience--beyond what most of us experience. The most stunning this about her email is her perspective.

If you're struggling today, please take time to read this:

...It made me think of one day my daughter Hannah came home from school (she was in the 7th grade--so middle school dramatics should be inserted here) so upset because all of her friends lives were soooo easy. She said all they ever had to do was homework, and then they were free for the rest of the day to do whatever they wanted--one of those lucky ducks even got to ride a horse after school.

They never had to help with disabled sisters or set the dinner table. It wasn't fair that they had it so easy and she had it so hard.

I panicked and prayed real quick for the right thing to say. It wasn't fair, I felt that way too about other peoples lives. It concerned me that I sometimes looked at my friends who seemed to have it all together in the same way and felt immediately convicted.

As we spoke, I reminded her and myself that whether we like it our not we live a transparent life. Anyone can identify our daily struggles at one glance. We were Everest. You could see us from space. Walking through the mall or down the street with 4 kids, two in wheelchairs and a service dog at our side--we look like a one family parade. We struggle. We have to do things that others don't. We have to care for our girls and put their needs first everyday as a family, and Hannah was a part of that. It's wasn't fair or easy and we didn't get to hide and pretend everything was great. We were constantly exposed to the elements.

Then I remembered (somehow) that Everest wasn't the tallest mountain on earth. The tallest mountain is Mauna Kea (31,000 ft) off the coast of Hawaii under the pacific ocean. No one can see it. It's not visible from space and from the surface it looks flat and calm. I shared with my daughter that her friends could be climbing Mauna Kea, they may have much further to go than she does and they may be climbing it alone. Things may not always be as they seem.

Instead of jealousy, she and I both needed to choose gratefulness. We climb everyday, but we climb in the light. Our mountains look different, but God still sees every step we take and every step her friends take.

In time Hannah began to become aware of difficulties her friends faced, some of which were very serious. We have learned gratefulness over time. Anyway, I remember that story when I want to look at the surface of others situations. Sadly, I have to remember this often. I am reminded to look deeper again and to question just what mountain is being climbed that day. I guess it's really the opposite of what you were saying. I coveted the calm, those who seemed to have it all together. I wanted to share it with you because I guess in principal it's the same. Martha, all of us--it's where the heart lies.

Thank you, Andrea, for sharing your beautiful story with us. Here's a picture of her joyful girls.