Irish Hills

Two summers ago, my Grandmother took my family, aunt and me to Ireland. We circled pretty much around the whole country, seeing and doing as much as possible during our nearly two-week long "holiday." We stayed at B&B's, climbed castles, rode horses, ate fish and chips, shopped, and even dyed our hair red to look Irish.

As much as I enjoyed the entire trip, one of my favorite memories was when we spent the day at the Aran Islands, which are located off the west coast in the Galway bay area.

The boat ride from Galway to the islands lasted about 40 minutes, and once we stepped foot on shore, it quickly became clear what fun activity we wanted to do. There was store after store of bike and buggy rentals. Mom, Grandmother and Aunt Kathy paid to tour the island via horse and buggy while Dad and us kids decided to go with the more adventurous, physically demanding alternative.

There were paved (but skinny) roads that weaved all throughout the island. In every direction, there were green pastures, rock walls, mountains, cows, sheep, and straw huts. To put it briefly, no matter where you looked, it was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. The sun was shining, there was a breeze, it was a perfect day, and I was bike riding with my family on an Irish island. What can get any better than that?! Seriously!

As we peddled, there were lots of hills that we had to climb. My poor father had to get off of his bike a couple of times and walk up the hill because the incline was too great, and I have to admit I came close to doing the same thing with some of the hills we faced. While trying to climb those bad-boy hills, sweat dripped down my face and my legs burned so much so that my body became nearly numb with pain. I think I even screamed out a couple times, "I hate this!! This is no fun!! I feel like I'm gonna die!"

But it was after the first big hill that I realized the ride down was totally worth the ride up.

Once I rolled over the hilltop, my bike picked up speed and the wind blew stronger across my face. I didn't have to pedal, which was the best part. I was able to just coast and really notice the beauty around me. I felt like I was part of it all. I felt like I was flying, I felt free, I felt so alive.

When we came to the second big hill, I braced myself for the pain in my legs but was determined to make it to the top without having to stop or walk the rest of the way. My mind seemed to only focus on my current exhaustion which would explain why I didn't hear the car behind me honking, trying to get me to move out of the middle of the road. Once it inched its way into my peripheral vision, I got so scared that I immediately squeezed the brakes out of reflex reaction and waved apologetically to the irritated driver.

My brother, dad and sister were, by this time, a ways ahead of me. Since I already failed in maintaining my goal of getting to the top without stopping, I thought I might as well take a quick break to catch a breath.

That was when I looked back.

It was an even more fantastic view than the one I had been staring at in front of me while I was biking. I could see the port where we landed, waters that stretched back to Galway, mountains, the strip of stores and restaurants we had passed earlier, horses running down by the beach, and, most importantly, the path that I had so far traveled.

It was a picture of all the hills I had climbed. It was a reminder of the pain I endured and the joy that followed. It was a second chance for me to take in the splendor I hadn't noticed before. It was a moment I wondered how on Earth I managed to travel so far without giving up, knowing how many times the thought of doing so crossed my mind.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith.    2 Timothy 4:7

We all face our own hills and have experienced the challenge of trying to keep peddling when the pain feels too great to bear. We look at the steep climb ahead of us and become discouraged, thinking there is no way we will ever be able to get to the top. We become too focused on our hurts that we are blind to the beauty around us and therefore resistant to His peace. 

As relieved as we are to finally rest at the top and as ready as we are to finally experience the joy of the ride down, we too quickly forget the lessons of the ride up.

God knows we can't climb mountains by ourselves, and that's why He promises to always bike alongside us. He is our encourager when we feel like quitting, our strength when we feel too tired, and our hope that the best is yet to come. He is the greatest partner we could have because He knows the terrain. After all, He didn't just make the journey-- He planned the journey.

It is a journey that involves three parts: where you've come from (past), where you are (present), and where you are headed (future). Maybe right now you are taking a much deserved rest at the top of a hill you've just conquered... congratulations. Maybe you are experiencing a current pain in the climb upward .... keep going. Maybe you are delighting in the ride down....embrace it.

Wherever you are, know that you are not alone. As long as your feet are on the pedals, your hands hold onto the handles, and your eyes look to God leading the way, you'll be fine. He promises to get you where you need to be, but don't forget to stop, look back and see how far He has brought you!

Trust me, the view is spectacular.

-Rachel