Wipe the Dust Off

I am falling in love all over again with scripture.  I'm finding that I'm easily disgruntled, discouraged, or guilty when it comes to the interpretations of scripture (i.e., books that people write - Christian bookstores are enormous these days, no?).  I find I'm often subject to attempts of mass conviction.  And to be honest, an unfamiliar writer somewhere in the world trying to amp up my faith and tell me what we all do wrong and (hence) what I'm doing wrong?  Bogus.  I must admit, there are plenty of edifying books out there.  I could just eat up C.S. Lewis and Don Miller.  But I find the writers that lift you up are few and far between. 

 

But when I read scripture ... oh when I read scripture!

 

I am edified.  I am lifted up and filled to my brim.  I am enticed, and engaged, and even when I'm convicted, it's from a place of love and encouragement to the point where changing is exactly what I want to do.  What a concept!  To go back to the source is proving incredible.  Even delving the background, the history, the lineages is so refreshing.  I've started again at the beginning - the book of Genesis - and the answers are coming together.  The kind of person Cain was and the choices he made.  The necessity of Seth's existence.  The patriarchs leading up to Noah and the kind of fathers that they were.  The complete orchestration of the flood and what kind of phenomenon that was.  Have you ever seen streams come out of the sky and the barriers of the sea broken?  When reading this living and active Word, I see who God is.  In reading the story of our history, I see His face and His energies.  To nitpick the details is not to just gain scriptural background and history, it's to see the work of God, and to see His character through His actions.  It's to fear Him and respect Him.  Scripture, being living and active, seems to encourage in us a right (yet not complete) understanding and perspective of the Creator of the universe.  Want to know who God is?  Read His book.  The work, the curiosities, the questions answered and the infinitely more obtained are all worth it. 

 

Boom. 

Fuji san

Mount Fuji is massive.  I climbed it last week, and we even cheated.  But it is HUGE. 

 

We drove up to 5th station - about halfway up the mountain - and started climbing around 9:30 pm.  Up, up, up.  Lots of loose gravel, careful maneuvering, and boulder scaling.  To 6th station, 7th station, 8th station, and all the little huts in between that offered to put stamps on our walking sticks.  It took us 7 hours just to get that far.  Thank the good Lord we couldn't see how far we had to go. 

 

Overnight, we could see the city.  Yamanashi was at the base of the mountain, and Tokyo was further away, along the bay.  There were stars and lightning and city lights everywhere.  It was simply amazing. 

 

We watched the sunrise from 8th station at 5 am, and continued on in the heat through 9th station.  Still up, up, up.  Climbing and resting and climbing and water breaks.  And climbing.  When we finally walked through the torii gate to signify summit, it was about 7 o'clock in the morning.  Oh glorious.  Realizing we still had to get ourselves down the mountain, we quickly laid eyes on the volcanic crater, got our stamps, rested a bit, and started down. 

 

Oh the way down! 

 

Zig zag.  Left and right.  Loose gravel.  And thoughts of impending death.  Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad, but a clutz on a mountain scaling downward?  Bad idea.  I only fell once.  Yes, I pride myself on that.  But I wish I could've just fallen my way down that mountain.  With each step you take, you become more exhausted and robotic.  Step.  Step.  Step.  You feel your knees and your hips.  You dread taking off your boots and seeing what your feet look like. 

 

From the looks of the map, after the zig zags, things seem to level out.  You find hope.  It's not until you keep going in the downward direction that you realize it was false.  When the ground finally levels out, 5th station - your sweet destination - is fleeting.  You keep turning corners thinking you're there.  Only to find more rocks.  And gravel.  And paths that never end. 

 

Wah waaaah.

 

Along the way, I passed fresh looking climbers, ready to scale the mountain and reach the top.  I wanted to shout at them.  No!  What are you doing?  Turn back!  But I thought better of it.

 

After over 12 hours of movement.  I finally sat down in the car where my husband and mother-in-law were already resting.  And I kid you not, I was broken.  Emotionally.  After wallowing and weeping a little, I was better.  And ready for get some rest. 

 

It's funny that only after you climb do you realize that people would have to be crazy in order to trade a good night's sleep to climb a 12,300 foot mountain.  Who does that?! 

 

It was glorious to arrive home, take a shower and 4-hour nap, wake up only to go out for Indian food, and crash until the next morning.  Believe me, the views and the accomplishment were worth it.  Rarely have I laid eyes on such beauty - it was breath-taking!

 

Would I do it again?  Never in your life. 

 

8th Station. Right before sunrise.

 

 

 

200 meters to summit!

 

Me and my father-in-law at summit.

 

The crater.

 

Aomuke

I dropped my cat on his back yesterday.  Whep.  It was a mix of holding him upside down, him wishing to be released in a certain direction, and me trying to not break his hip.  Chaos.  Hence, dropped on his back.  But only from a foot in the air.  Yay? 

I find this super interesting and coincidental.  And NOT the universe yelling at me for dropping my poor little kittuh.

Mama Mania

I'm all over the place.

Babies are all I think about.  And that initially sounds like I'm anxious for pregnancy and motherhood.  Well, calm down.  That's only part of it.  There are days I'm freaking out.  Because you know what they call us NFP folks.  Honestly, I'm a big fan of NFP.  Not only has it helped me understand my body and its patterns, but it has greatly increased my faith and trust.  To give up any plans of my own and to realize that I'm not actually in control.  God is sovereign, and He'll give me babies when He wants to!  And it shall be perfect.  But of course, I will always be growing toward this level of trust.

Anyway.

There are days of panic, because I am smack dap in the middle of a pregnancy scare.  I kid you not.  And we conveniently have neighbors whose kids scream.  All.  The.  Freaking.  Time.  Could this really potentially be my life soon?  More in the last year than ever in my life have I seen more temper tantrums, freak out sessions, and drama from humans under the age of 10. 

And to be honest, I think it's all pretty ridiculous.  I've also face palmed more in the last year ...

Not my idea of sanity. 

Then there's the fact that life isn't planned out.  I have so much more to do and see and figure out!  My dreams are lofty.  Will they die as my children are born?

Oh that age old question. 

But then.  I.  Just.  Realize. 

I have my moments of clarity in which I'm brought to tears thinking about my children.  MY children.  And I can't handle NOT being pregnant.  Because they have names already.  And ideas and techniques and theories surrounding how they'll be raised, and how much their parents (hey that's me!) will love them.  I see photos of other peoples' exploring, wondering, playing, laughing, joyful kids, and I just want photos of MY exploring, wondering, playing, laughing, joyful kids. 

Kids are obnoxious.  And I haven't yet pushed the idea out of my head that motherhood will be like 24-hour babysitting without pay.  Because yes, it's constant attentiveness and care and discipline.  But I'm coming to accept that there's so much more to it.  Midst the meal-planning and education and cleaning up vomit every 3 seconds, there's just something about raising tiny humans.  That something is more extraordinary than anything else I will do.  Of that I am convinced.

Am I ready for this?  We'll have to see if the time is now.