The path to the cross (warning: it might be an uphill climb)

Our first day of spring break.  My husband and I retreated to the Texas Hill Country at Camp Buckner.

With bicycles in tow, we took little time to head to the hills once we arrived.

{I’d like to know, however, at what point a hill becomes a mountain.  I am quite certain we became acquainted with a mountain.}

Thinking we’d take a stroll around the campground, we headed up what we imagined would be a short ride.

An hour later, thirsty and with aching legs, we figured we were lost.

The landscape was beautiful.  But, we had difficulty appreciating the majesty of our surroundings.

Having been given more than one choice, we wondered if we’d taken a wrong turn.

Then, thankfully, we began to see carefully placed signs along the path.

Markers showing the way.

And relieving our concerns.

And the arrows.  Love the arrows.  Clear indicators of the direction to take.

Monuments as reminders.

Spurring us along.

Just as we’d lose hope we were on the chosen path, another pillar.

A testament indicating others had taken this course.

Yet, we questioned.  Where are we and why are we doing this?

An hour and a half into our hike and bike, I grew weary.  And thirsty.  Dry Texas heat with no water.  Just a stroll around the campground.

We determined to stay the course.

Resolved not to turn around.

A pillar of salt. That’s what I warned my husband might happen should we look back.

He rode ahead to scope out the land.

That’s when I heard his gladdened voice.

His refreshing words soothed my parched resolve.

A cross!

We made it to the cross.

Unaware of a cross waiting amidst the bluebonnets, rocks and timber, I was leery of his asserted discovery until I could see for myself.

An initial glimpse of limbs peeking above the trees.

Then the cross.

A place for rest.  A reward for the climb.

And there my husband gently blanketed my hands between his. 

Settled on the bench. 

Overshadowed by the cross.

He prayed.

Lord, give us Your eyes to see.

Your ears to hear.

Your heart to follow.

And I sang.

The weariness vanished.  Hope restored.

At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light and the burden of my heart rolled away.

It was there by faith I received my sight and now I am happy all the day!

Life is often uphill.  The path is rocky.  A rugged terrain.

Keep climbing.  Watch for the signs along the way.

{Consider bringing water}

Don’t turn around.

You can’t see what’s waiting for you at the top.

Trust me.

There’s a cross.