For such a long time I’ve been climbing this mountain. Feels like an Everest, but it’s probably closer to a Rainer. There seems to be more crevices than clearings, more fog than sun. There seems to be more mountain than I can handle. On this climb I once saw the bright, cold sunlight over a ledge above. It was far and obstacled, but I went toward it. It wasn’t a trully warming light, but it was a hint of what was at the peak and would have left me encouraged had I reached it and climbed with it on my face. I found myself stuck, though, and had to retrace my steps and find another route in the dark.

The dark is not always bad, I sometimes have my best dreams of the warm sun in the dark.

I found another clearing. It appeared seemingly out of nowhere. I was probably looking at my boots, dwelling on my soaked feet. But the brightness caught my eyes and held them. I took two steps and it faded. I could still make out the clearing, but I was mostly blind and cold. There was that promise of a clearing that offered hope. There was the relief that the light I saw was warming other climbers, and might come back. But I can’t stop the sick tingle in my gut that’s whispering, “It’s another impass. A crevice to remind you of falling, that you are alone.” It is a lie. There may not be any clearing, a trick of my heart, but I know that I won’t be alone.

I’m not alone. It feels good to break the cold with that Truth. It almost settles my stomach. Maybe I’ll wait with this new heat in my coat. Pull my hands in. Close my eyes and wait. Maybe the light will show again.