Life on the Edge

In a post I wrote a couple of weeks ago titled The Bucket, I talked about taking my three teenage children and driving across Trail Ridge Road from Grand Lake, Colorado, to Estes Park and how that drive caused me to start my bucket list. While it was beautiful and breathtaking, that drive was also the most frightening one I've ever undertaken. There were no guardrails on the side of the road ... the side of the road that dropped straight down the side of the huge mountains. It truly felt as though we were driving along the edge of the earth.

Those of you who are long-time readers of this blog have read countless words about the paved trail that I walk on each evening, and you know that those walks are often the best part of my day. As much as I enjoy my walks, there have been times over the last year and a half that I've encountered some physical issues out on the trail, and I've taken a tumble or two along the way. All it took was a few times of smacking my chin or face on the pavement to teach me that I'm safer if I walk along the edge of the path near the grass ... that way, when I fall, I'm more likely to land in the soft green stuff than on the hard black stuff.

As I walked last night, my shoulder was throbbing, and I found myself scooting closer and closer to the edge of the trail knowing that if I fell, I didn't want to land on my shoulder on the pavement. In fact, I was almost walking in the grass. As I made the turn to head toward home, one of the folks I've met on my nightly walks called out to me. I looked up, and she said, "Hey, Terrie, you're really close to the edge tonight. Be careful that you don't stumble and fall into the creek." I scooted over a bit and thanked her for her concern, but as soon as she was out of sight, I inched back over to where I was before she stopped me. Tugging on Ollie's leash as he slowed to gaze at the ducks in the water, I realized that once again God was teaching me on the trail.

Walking along the edge of the path began because I had fallen before, because I had been wounded in the past, because I didn't feel well at times. It was born out of fear and out of the need to protect myself. It came about from a desire to never have to call for anyone to help me should I fall again. It struck me that my walking pattern quite often mirrors my living pattern ... I've been living on the edge ... trying not to fall, afraid of being wounded, my heart and soul weary and ill. And I realized that the deeper my pain, the closer to the edge I walk ... during the very time that I should be seeking the center of the path ... the true Center of the path ... I inch my way closer and closer and closer to the edge instead.

Pull me back from the edge, Lord ... help me to find my center in You ... pull me back, Lord, pull me back.