Saturday, October 29, 2005


Rock climbing. Those two little words make my heart smile. In GA, I'd have to do about a 5 hour roundtrip to get anywhere decent to climb. Out here in the Springs, I have multiple destinations within 5-25 mins from my house. Which makes my face smile as well as my heart.

Here are some of the reasons I love climbing:

1) It's very social in a unique way. Nothing beats a day outside trusting your life to your friend's belay skills. You can't BS with a climbing friend--trust is ESSENTIAL.

2) When you're up on a climb, you think of nothing but that climb. Now, I'm not one to recommend drowning your sorrows in anything, not even a sweet, exposed 5.10b. But when your brain is on overdrive on solid ground, there's nothing like thoughts of crimps and jugs and scary cruxes to sweep out those cobwebs of worry. Well, at least the worries you had yesterday. I guess falling 20 feet could be considered a worry...

3) I am a girl. Yes, this is old news. But really, it is so much fun being a girl who climbs because she wants to, not because some boy wants her to (although, I must admit, that's how I got started in all of this). I like being friends with guys and climber guys tend to be pretty awesome friends. You just get a different kind of respect as a girl who climbs well. And I won't lie...I like it when I climb harder than the boys!

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

A Writer's Prayer

A gift of words You've given to me, yet time and again I choose silence. A gift of a blank page and a blank slate each day You've also given me, but more often than not I choose to leave it blank. Or allow someone else to fill it, or worse, consider it...then ball it up and throw it away.

Father, You made it so clear that a talent not used for You is a talent that will be lost, a talent wasted. But still I allow fear to make these decisions for me. Your love, as evidenced by the cross, has bought me out of fear. And I want that evident in my life. Make writing an act of worship, not something for myself or for others, but an act of praise toward You, the Giver.

Father, as I am perfected through perserverence, replace this fear with love for You and then let this love spill over onto my page, reveling in the gift You've given me, but most of all reveling in the Giver.

Father, for all the people out there who write, I pray that their inspirations will lead them somehow to You. We are by nature an inquisitive breed, writers. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but in this case scrutiny cannot harm because You are Truth. Father, for all those with a spark, an inkling of who You may be, I pray that You ignite it, with words, with people, with situations. Words on a page are just words on a page. They may be beautiful but how beautiful can untruth be? Father, in Your grace, give us all light and lead us to water.

This I pray in Your Son's name.