Growing Is Hard--February 26, 2005
Reflections
Sun warmed my back this day walking in the hills. Thoughts, as usual, turned to life, eternity and family blessings. The trail was dry, warmed by the February sun and almost without knowing I was at a point of departure from the wide road to where the trail forked and serpentined down a canyon to a small river. No sweat (literally). For it was downhill, mostly, and I’d made this journey nearly without thought dozens of times.
The trail looped around to meet itself at the fork; but, faced with a choice, I took the lower trail, which proceeded further down the canyon before looping up to the fork. It was something different, therefore interesting. But all that goes down eventually must go up, and so it was with the trail. I noticed on the incline that whereas my thoughts before were serendipity and random, flitting from child to child and from days past to eternities ahead, they were now focused on my feet, or rather on my steps, for I was puffing a good deal going up the grade. I became conscious of my consciousness and the effort I was putting forth. Time slowed down (like it does in the dentist’s chair or having to live your life in Pocatello). I tried lifting my eyes and focusing on the crest of the hill before me; maybe that would take my mind off the effort and messages of complaint being sent from my quads to my brain—it didn’t help. I could see there was only one way to get relief; that was to get there. I was loath to slow down; no pain, no gain kept flashing in my mind. To slow down or rest would defeat much of my purpose in setting forth in the first place. On I trudged being mostly aware of the pain and how slowly time was passing. Finally the crest—my daily private victory!
How like life, I mused. (My experience is only illustrative, not in any way comparable). Christ before Pilate and all that happened thereafter must be the supreme example. How the minutes must have dragged as he quietly faced his tormentors, and yet, how great the impact of his sacrifice. Elder Maxwell notes, “The aloneness of the atonement in its final hours symbolized how we must, at times, do what needs to be done, even if no mortal understands or appreciates what is being done. In fact, the atonement with its awful arithmetic (the billions who would benefit from the exquisite agony of Christ as he somehow bore thousands of sins for each of us) was the last appreciated but most beneficial act in human history!” (Neal A. Maxwell, For the Power is in Them….Mormon Musings. P. 27.)
My attempt to hasten time or assuage the pain by looking to the crest of the hill failed. I know, however, that when faced with life’s little difficulties my focus on the Savior, remembering his act and the price he paid, will make all the difference.
Love,
Mel
Sun warmed my back this day walking in the hills. Thoughts, as usual, turned to life, eternity and family blessings. The trail was dry, warmed by the February sun and almost without knowing I was at a point of departure from the wide road to where the trail forked and serpentined down a canyon to a small river. No sweat (literally). For it was downhill, mostly, and I’d made this journey nearly without thought dozens of times.
The trail looped around to meet itself at the fork; but, faced with a choice, I took the lower trail, which proceeded further down the canyon before looping up to the fork. It was something different, therefore interesting. But all that goes down eventually must go up, and so it was with the trail. I noticed on the incline that whereas my thoughts before were serendipity and random, flitting from child to child and from days past to eternities ahead, they were now focused on my feet, or rather on my steps, for I was puffing a good deal going up the grade. I became conscious of my consciousness and the effort I was putting forth. Time slowed down (like it does in the dentist’s chair or having to live your life in Pocatello). I tried lifting my eyes and focusing on the crest of the hill before me; maybe that would take my mind off the effort and messages of complaint being sent from my quads to my brain—it didn’t help. I could see there was only one way to get relief; that was to get there. I was loath to slow down; no pain, no gain kept flashing in my mind. To slow down or rest would defeat much of my purpose in setting forth in the first place. On I trudged being mostly aware of the pain and how slowly time was passing. Finally the crest—my daily private victory!
How like life, I mused. (My experience is only illustrative, not in any way comparable). Christ before Pilate and all that happened thereafter must be the supreme example. How the minutes must have dragged as he quietly faced his tormentors, and yet, how great the impact of his sacrifice. Elder Maxwell notes, “The aloneness of the atonement in its final hours symbolized how we must, at times, do what needs to be done, even if no mortal understands or appreciates what is being done. In fact, the atonement with its awful arithmetic (the billions who would benefit from the exquisite agony of Christ as he somehow bore thousands of sins for each of us) was the last appreciated but most beneficial act in human history!” (Neal A. Maxwell, For the Power is in Them….Mormon Musings. P. 27.)
My attempt to hasten time or assuage the pain by looking to the crest of the hill failed. I know, however, that when faced with life’s little difficulties my focus on the Savior, remembering his act and the price he paid, will make all the difference.
Love,
Mel
posted by Melvyn Bennett | 8:44 AM
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