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COVER STORY: Sherri and Wayne are not invisible when it comes to their ministry!
Did Your Vote Count?
A Reading Resource
The Flavors of Fall
Simple Scrapbooking
3 Easy Gifts to Make
Be Anxious for Nothing
When is it Time to Leave Your Doctor?
Moments with God in the Mountains
Dangling in Depression
Are You Allergic to Your Church
I Want More!
Talk Over Tea with the Editor
Tell Us Your Thoughts
Strive to Thrive Health News
Joy Bites
Strength in the Shadows
Volunteer Corner
Book Review: Cherish the Days
Ask the Doc
HopeNotes: hopekeepers
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The Colorado Rockies hold history in my life. My father's military career took our family to Colorado Springs, CO my senior year in high school. Thirty-five years later I returned for my high school reunion. I looked forward to this trip, but an unexpected convergence of my attitude with the Colorado altitude made for a difficult time in the Rockies.

Colorado is often a challenge for those coming from lower elevations than its mile-high peaks. Many adapt quickly. Concerns erupted for me in 1996. These stemmed from the onslaught of vestibular dysfunction that hit my balance system in 1983, bringing constant dizziness and my adjustment to the higher elevation never came. Still, God's touch ministered to my body and spirit.

A favorite spot revisited during this trip was Glen Haven. A paved road passed the general store but the rest was dirt roads winding to various cabins amidst the green and rocks. During my stay I anticipated sitting by the creek, reflecting on memories and looking at the present.

One afternoon, I took my journal and strolled down to the creek. With necessary caution I side-stepped downward toward its edge. Rereading the last entry in the journal, a passage from Scripture, I discovered its message matched my current feelings:

How I long for the months gone by, for the days when God watched over me, when His lamp shone upon my head, and by His light I walked through darkness! Oh for the days when I was in my prime, when God's intimate friendship blessed my house, when the Almighty was still with me and my children were around me, when my path was drenched with cream and the rock poured out for me streams of olive oil. -Job 29: 2-6.

I thought of the different path I had been asked to walk. There was so much energy needed to keep on moving-physically and emotionally. I pressed these feelings into my journal:

This is such a wonderful site from my childhood years. How physically difficult this trip has been, how hard to breathe, my head a tumbleweed, nausea so strong. I cry out to You, Lord, and You help me move. I had hoped I'd hear some fresh word from You, but all my moments seem spent persevering to get through. Now by this creek I struggle to write-not what to write, but the simple physical act of writing. I am being still, listening, hoping. The sound is loud from the creek. Can You reach me over it? I watch the water tumble over the stones, smoothing them, refining them. The water diverges into different paths and then the waters meet again, unified until the next obstacle. I look down the creek toward the uprising mountain. It is still. The creek is flowing smoothly below. I hear You whisper "Not much longer, Lynn." I choose to believe.
-August 28, 1996.

A bit later an unexpected thunderstorm sends me back to the inn. Once there, I partially reclined on a couch, the weariness intense, the dizziness uncomfortable.

Now there is quiet in this sun room. I lay my head upon my arms that rest on a window sill. Lace curtains brush the top of my head. The thunder storm has passed. The sun is storming its light and warmth through the window. My being rests in its comfort, eyes closed recording the moment in my whole being, letting it invade my heart. Yes, Lord, You brought me to the sunroom, not to seek and strive, but to rest and soak up your Presence, gathering fuel and strength for the next step.
-August 28, 1996

Those days in Glen Haven are a treasure. They are a part of what I bring to each day. The journey with the physical dysfunction still exits. Sunshine and warmth can still fuel my being. I remember the creek waters flowing smoothly once they passed the rocky obstacles. The view of a steady mountain echoes God's words of hope. And I continue to step into each new day.

Lynn Severance is a retired elementary classroom teacher. She is currently working on a book manuscript for women. Lynn is single and lives alone in Lynnwood, WA.


This article was featured in our Sept/October 2004 issue.
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