The pits.

We live on a path.


And sometimes we choose to step off of this path.
Out of curiosity, maybe rebellion, or because the grass seems greener over there.


Without any marked trail to follow we misstep, stumble, and fall.


That's okay, as long as we get back up, and realize that we should probably follow our bread crumb trail back to the path.


But sometimes we fall in holes. Or pits.


Those falls are hard, and fast.
And the pits are deep, dark, and cold.


All our strength is gone from trudging through the wilderness so we're tired and weak. And we wanna just lay there for a while on the nice cold ground. A break from searching. A break from walking.


Then, once we start to feel the pain of our broken bones, and the hardness of the ground, we wonder how we got there in the first place.
It seems like we just took a brief scenic route, so how did it lead here?


It never takes too long to lose yourself. And you don't realize you've wandered...until you're lost.
Until you're lying, broken, on the cold floor of that deep pit, do you realize the steps you took to get there.


And so you start to climb out, ironically, healing on the way.


And it takes a while.


But it's worth it.


Because once your face is warmed again by the sun, and your weary feet touch the soft green grass, you'll look back and be grateful. 


Grateful for what you learned and grateful for the grace you were given to climb out.




And you'll never go back.