“The theif comes to steal, kill and destroy. But I come so that you may have life and have it abundantly.” John 10:10
I think my pride took almost as many beatings this past week as my body did. I’ve never been known for my physical grace; ballet was never in my future. So, of course, climbing up “hills” and crossing rocky riversides led to many bumps and bruises. However, rice paddies are apparently my sworn enemies.
Day 4 of our trek had me on my bottom a bit more than the other days, mostly because it was the wettest of our trekking days. Slippery rocks and downhill slopes led to dirty pants and a bruised tailbone. Little did I know that the most dangerous of the terrains I would face would be the grid of a rice paddy. As I watched the rest of my group make the short hop between two ledges, I decided my best bet would be to use my walking stick to “pole vault” my way across the 3-foot gap. Sadly, my 30-lb pack chose to land first and took me down with it. The only way to describe the way I felt – and how my friends said I looked – is to call this “The Great Turtle Fall.” I literally had to lay there until my laughter subsided enough to allow me to be helped to my feet again.
Two days later, I was rejoicing after a day of fall-free trekking. I hadn’t landed on the ground once the whole day, a much needed relief for my bum. We made it back to our starting village and got to take a little walk to the nearby lake for a swim and “bath”. This walk included rice paddies. Another miscalculted jump from one ledge to another landed me face first in a paddy, mud covering my recently-cleaned body. The saying “pride comes before the fall” seems to be one of my new life mantras.
Through all of these spills and tumbles, God showed me something I never expected: that life is meant to be lived deeply. Sure, I could’ve taken smarter routes, been more careful, saved my pride and my body a bit less pain. But I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time. And telling the story to my squadmates (over and over) has given them the chance to share in that laughter.
If you would’ve asked me even 3 months ago to list some of the worst things that could happen to me, I probably would’ve said that such public embarrassment would be akin to torture. Looking back at that attitude, I can’t help but shake my head at the old me. Part of life is in the falling, in the mistakes, in the times where we are flat on our backs and have no other option but to reach out our hands looking for aid. I got to spend the last week with some of the most amazing people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and calling family. We had no showers, no internet, no toilets and no mirrors. I was dirty, smelly and, to be quite honest, pretty hairy. Yet I have never felt more beautiful.
I want to chose each day to sacrifice the things of this world, my fleshly comforts, in favor of this abundant life. I want to choose love over pride. I want to be all in, putting others first, forsaking myself and carrying my cross so that I may look more like Him.
May God give you your own rice paddies. May He send you flat on your butt on a rock, or face-first into the mud, so that you may come up rejoicing in His goodness and grace. May you let your days be full of belly-laughter and intentional conversations. Drink in the moments of stillness while sitting on a rooftop. See the dirt stains on your skirt (that will probably never come off) as a sign of time well-spent. Count the blisters on your feet and remember the faces of the people that walked alongside you.
Choose the wider, deeper life that He is offering. You won’t be sorry.
