For various reasons, when I was a middle-school aged child I often found myself suspended from the school bus. When this occured, plans needed to be made for me to get to and from school. The school was about five miles away from home, so mom or dad would drive there in the morning and I would be left to my own devices to bike or walk home.
In the beginning of the school year or near the end, when the temperatures were warmer and the streets were free of snow/debris, bicycling was the way to go. But to my discredit, suspensions can occur at any time of the year and, inevitably, they seem to always occur when it's cold outside and there is snow on the ground, prohibiting the use of my bike and forcing me to do something I would rather not do: walk home.
However, seeing as waiting around several uneccessary hours for one of my parents to get off work and pick me up from school would be a ludicrous suggestion, both for me and my parents, I became determined to walk home. At least one half of this walk would be at least somewhat agreeable: well-plowed, close-to-road sidewalks. But for more than a negligible part of the walk, due to the necessary route(s), I had to tredge through unplowed snow for a good amount of time.
On one such day under these sorts of circumstances, I had to walk home. Yet, unbeknownst to me before school, there was an ample snow fall during the school hours, meaning two things: (1) that I would be walking through a foot of snow, and (2) I was woefully underdressed for such an endeavor. Being a middle-schooler with a middle schooler's understanding of how meteorological patterns affect garment decisions, I had failed to bring a winter coat or shoes that were suitable for my walk. But, as there was no choice otherwise, I still had to walk home.
Half way on my journey, in the thick of the snow, every step became a bear as I plodded, cruching with each struggling stride. My limbs were so cold that I had brought my arms back through my sleeves and I was clutching them around the trunk of my core. Luckily, my feet had been numbed by the frigid snow encasing my thin tennis shoes with each step that they barely hurt at all, only tinging subtley with every labored hoof.
At some point, exhaustion hit me and I stopped. I was more than half-way home, but I was still about two miles away from home. Although I was in the middle of suburbia, becuase my route took me through the county park, no one would ever know where I really was. As I stood still in a snow-covered emptiness, I searched my hazy breaths for some of the most sincere thoughts that I had ever or have ever since.
I could sense a sort of foreboding danger in the numbness of my limbs and I feared that I might not make it home in time to prevent hypothermia. My ears felt like they were on fire to the point that I had to touch them to be assured that, no, they were in fact almost frozen. Fear and worry filled my arctic thoughts. I knew that there were two possibilities: (1) I could give up, or (2) I could become determined and trudge on homeward.
To be sure, for a middle school kid this is an existential dilemma but I decided that the latter was the better option. So, with each new step I garnered a bit more determination and will to continue on my path and to reach my goal. This was one of those days that affected me. Ever since, I have learned that there is incredible value in setting a course and, though it may be challenging and long, to stick to it with consistent perseverance. Funny thing is that when I came to Christ and started reading HIs Word in earnest, I learned that this is exactly how God desires us to endure in our faith. Praise be to God for those moments of deep learning that can happen amidst the strangest circumstances in life!
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