let me see that montu step

i remember the first time i road the montu at busch gardens in tampa. i think i was the summer after 5th grade when it first opened. it was among the first of its kind: with the dropped floor and the rails above your head rather than the traditional cart-style ones. my grandmother road it with me (and i think thats the moment i also vowed to rock pink hair and skydive after i turn 70, but we've got plenty of time to address that).

i remember first sitting down to strap in and wondering just how safe those chest bars really are. i didn't know what to expect. could i slide out? would i throw up my pricy theme-park lunch? would grams vom all over me? i was so nervous; i think my biggest fear was just breaking down in tears and not being able to do anything about it.

aside from my ambition to skydive late in life (i've already conquered that goal), not much has changed. as i sat down before the roller-coaster of these past two weeks, i've felt a lot of the same emotions. i didn't know what to expect; nor do i claim to. would i throw up? i have. have i broken down in tears and not been able to do a thing about it until it passed? you betcha.

but just like the montu, i've learned valuable lessons. the ride is best experienced with your eyes wide open. regardless of how terrified you are, and how tight you hold on, those chest straps, and Jesus, aren't going anywhere. they are stronger and more safe than anything else your hands could grasp. the dips will always make you sick to your stomach, regardless of how experienced of a rider you may become. but when you reach one of the peaks, after a long, tumultuous journey to its crest, the view and clarity are unrivaled. you see beyond just the twists and turns; you realized how small this roller-coaster is from such a height, compared to the park hundreds of feet below your dangling legs. you see things from a different perspective. and you also know, that you're going to wind up right back down at the bottom.

but you'll survive. even through vom and tears, you'll make it off alive. most times, you'll feel exhilarated, empowered. others, you may leave feeling queasy and have to take a rest on a nearby bench. but whatever you do, don't swear off roller-coasters for life.

***

today, was a montu sort of day. i didn't even eat until it was over, for fear i would get sick in the process. it started off slow, with a 10:45 wake-up with Lauren and a little cheese-tastic TV (duh, it's what she does best!). but i started to make the climb up to that big summit in no time, and fell faster than my heart could handle. i released a lot of emotion on the ride, and ended with a really great talk about our spiritual progress and prayers and hang-ups tonight. i find it refreshing and encouraging to recount the ways the Lord has made His presence very real throughout this "situation", and praise the Lord we're not talking about jersey shores. i hope that my alacrity to seek the Lord and learn from each day can inspire and encourage the same motivation in the fatigue that james is already starting to feel. i hope that my mini-milestones help to spark a desire in the search and journey through the faith.

please be praying for the both of us, as the devil will stop at nothing to see-to an armistice of apathy in our battle and journey with the Lord. pray for an awakening of the Holy Spirit inside of us; that truth be revealed, and that a life-long passion be ignited to not just seek, but walk beside, the Lord. I ask that in each moment, be it grief, comfort, understanding, clarity, pain or weakness; that we are able to allow it to bring glory to God.

i think in all my exhaustion, and in spite of the hurt that overwhelmed my heart today, that is the strongest prayer i can pray. and i feel, i know it has the potential to be mighty. i stepped off the ride and into bed tonight; exhilarated and empowered, even in light of something so nerve-wrecking and potentially dangerous. i survived.