Snapchat

Recently I downloaded an app called "Snapchat." It's something that Darian does a lot. It's where you take a picture or a short video and send it to someone who can view it for up to five seconds and then...poof...it's gone forever. It's fun and silly...and I joined this bit of craziness just to see what it's all about. And so, I've been sending "snapchats" to Darian: Good morning! Off to work! ... or ... Here we are on our way to Taco Bell! ...or ... Sexy Jace! (He seems to have this obsession with calling himself sexy.)  It's just all fun and games and creates a few seconds of laughter sprinkled throughout the day. It keeps things light. 

Last night I woke up to rolling thunder. And now as I write this the rain is tapping on my window; it's pitch black outside. Ahh, the sounds of spring and the promise that it is just around the bend.

I have had the most wonderful several days. My keyboard broke so blogging became a major complication--that was the only dark cloud in the long weekend brought on by the snowstorm that ravaged the East. But beyond that, our whole little family was safe inside our walls until Sunday night when they headed back to Southern. And even the next couple of weeks hold promise of fabulous. As of tomorrow, we are on a school-wide mission trip (though Roy and I are staying here with the students who chose "Asheville" as their mission base) which means no teaching or planning or grading. And then starting next Thursday, we're on spring break! Oh my...two point five weeks of sheer delicious.

Mmmmm....

I love it when life is easy and comin' up roses. But last night before I went to bed, I checked Facebook--one of those mindless things I do when I am stalling for time--and noticed that a friend of mine posted an Amber alert. A little ten year old girl was abducted in Springfield, MO, by a stranger who drove by in an old pickup and snatched her up. I can't imagine the terror that family must be experiencing every waking second.

Meanwhile another friend on facebook died two days ago after a vicious battle with cancer. She was younnger than me, leaving a son who is still in academy.

Those are only two stories of millions. Life can be gut wrenching. It leaves me dumbfounded at times, feeling like I don't have the right to feel so content when so many feel ravaged inside. My life, though a far cry from perfect, is certainly easy compared to so many.

And yet...it hasn't always been. I too have had my share of valleys. And I know that valleys are coming; they are just around the corner--as that is how life plays out. I remember when I was in high school feeling blissfully happy and then having that moment of terror, knowing that something was soon to happen, bursting my reverie. That is a rather woe is me mentality, I suppose; but I just remember recognizing around that time of my life how life is made up of valleys and mountaintops...and then a whole lot of in-betweens.

But thankfully, I have learned to appreciate the mountaintops much more now, to enjoy the quiet days without bated breath. I have gotten better at pushing worries aside, knowing that things will work out in due course. And though valleys come in my life, I have discovered tools for muddling through those times with a degree of acceptance, knowing that difficult days don't last forever.

One of our mission activities for those who are hanging around Asheville this coming week is to help four people who are in the final throes of cancer. One lady needs some furniture moved and papers shredded--common activities that she can no longer handle. Others need simple tasks accomplished as well--yardwork and housecleaning and odds and ends jobs. And so we are loading up a few kids who are good at being compassionate to shed a little sunlight in the midst of a whole lot of heartache.

Life is a lot like "Snapchat." We have pain and sickness death and terror and struggles in our midst. And yet...we have these moments sprinkled throughout that make us feel light inside. These moments bring sunshine and laughter, if just for a few brief moments. But these moments? They give us hope. They bring the promise of something better, of mountaintops--if just for a momentary interlude in the midst of the darkness.