mayflowers. I am rather convinced that May is about mountains. Really, really big ones.
I mean, I can think all the way back to May's when I was in school and college, and the mountains were exams. Long, sleepless, wearying nights, when I just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up until June.
Following school came May as a young married wife to a military man which always, always, always meant some sort of unfabulously long deployment. And military wives know that the minute he leaves the house, everything of an appliance nature utterly implodes, explodes, or just-plodes. Those were mountains.
May with children is a mountain. All the carpooling moms just shouted "Amen!" I heard you. Even as a homeschooling mom, May has its fingers tenaciously wrapped around the endings and beginnings of curriculum and planning and graduations and last minute squeeze what you can into every last micrometer of breathing space mountains.
So, it's not a surprise to me at all that May would continue its trend of bringing mountains to bear upon my life right now, when honestly, I feel myself least able to climb anymore. Where is the summit?
Enter Moses for my study this week in Deuteronomy 34. Moses is 120 years old, and the Lord tells him to climb Mt. Nebo. That's right. C-l-i-m-b, CLIMB Mt. Nebo. And doggone it, Moses does climb Mt. Nebo. All the way.
And once there, he views all the Promised Land that God in covenant faithfulness and eternal counsel has given to His beloved people. The same people who gripe and complain and moan and bellyache about walking in flat wilderness, let alone mountains.
But God persists to not only give them the land, but show Moses, the one obediently climbing the mountain, the fulfillment of His Word.
That's the mountain I'm trying to climb. The one that summits with a view of Promised Land, of His every Word fulfilled, of His matchless love for His people. It's only the eyes of faith right now that are keeping me going. Faith that God's Word is always, always true. No matter the mountains and no matter my weariness. One obedient step at a time.