From the Mountaintop

We call them Mountaintop Experiences.

They are the times when you go somewhere far away from your normal life and distractions and get closer to God. Often during these experiences we learn who we are, who God is, and what we should do with our lives. But, when we come down from the mountain, we forget what God told us and soon fall back into the patterns we were used to before we left.

Every year, when I go away, I experience a spiritual high of sorts. I hear God speak as I spend time with him far away from my normal life which is buzzing with distractions. But when I come home, all those lessons are forgotten and I return to my usual patterns of life. I know it is the same for most people, but that doesn’t make it any less of a disheartening occasion. I desperately want to change, but I just can’t seem to find the motivation to do so since I’m back in a familiar environment that just urges me to keep doing what I was doing.

Photo on 7-2-17 at 5.10 PM

Just last week, for the second year in a row after coming home from my experience, I remembered a quote from The Silver Chair that I think speaks to this situation. (In all honesty, the entire book speaks to the Mountaintop Experience, but I won’t quote it all here)

“Here on the mountain I have spoken to you clearly: I will not do so down in Narnia. Here on the mountain, the air is clear and your mind is clear; as you drop down into Narnia, the air will thicken. Take great care that it does not confuse your mind.” -Aslan

Don’t let the busyness of everyday life distract you from what is important: from what you were shown on the mountaintop. As Aslan also says in this chapter, “remember the Signs. Say them to yourself when you wake in the morning and when you lie down at night, and when you wake in the middle of the night.”

Don’t forget. Don’t despair. Keep trying.

This is a lesson I’m still trying to learn, and I know it’s going to be a hard time for me to try to break the old habits and turn out the better from my experiences, but this time I’m relying on God and not myself.

God bless, have a great day, and thanks for reading:)

Catherine

Farewell to School

Picture

Farewell school.

You have been a burden pleasure.

With you I have finished my childhood, and now I must move on in life. I will look back on you in fondness as the days when I could just sit back and imagine what it was like to grow up, when I would complain about having to do schoolwork and wonder why anyone would even want to go to college, but this is the end. I’m not coming back. I’m saying goodbye.

Farewell school.

I won’t miss all the hours spent crying over algebra or the forced literature guides or the callus on my ring finger from having handwritten so many three-point paragraphs. I won’t miss required reading for history which gave me an intense dislike for reading for a very long time.

Farewell school.

I will miss the times exploring my interests, when I would draw people or dragons and turn them in as schoolwork, when I would write novels for NaNoWriMo and count that as english even though the finished products were absolute traitors to grammar. I will miss the freedom of homeschooling.

Farewell school.

I feel like my love of learning came too late, and sometimes I wish I could do it all again just so I could actually appreciate everything my mother tried to teach me as an obstinate fifth grader. I would appreciate the literature guides, the essays, and the history lessons. Gosh, I’d probably even enjoy math (though there is no assurance that I wouldn’t cry again).

Farewell school.

Despite these sentiments, I am glad to say I am finished. Hindsight is twenty/twenty, but the road of life only goes straight forward. Here is where we go separate ways, you to some other child who will probably hate you until it is time for you to go, and me to my future; wherever that leads.

But know this:

If it wasn’t for you, I never would have made it this far.

So, thank you.

and farewell.