All You Need is a Hill
by ChristaWells
“All you need is a hill.”
I don’t know why it stayed, that little phrase. It sort of haunts me. When I’m running (yep, that’s right, I run now…a little…I caved!), or when anything scary or squirmy or unpleasant comes along.
It was something Kim said as she led the creative fitness retreat where 25 female friends found ourselves sprinting and jumping and carrying comrades up two flights of deck steps in our arms.
She said, “Just about anyone can get skinny, but if you really want to change your shape, you need a hill, or some way to alter the intensity of your workout.”
Apparently, you can’t just run the same familiar, flattish mile through the hood day after day and grow really fit and strong?? (Though it’s a start!)
If we want to change our shape, she said…if we want to be shaped…we’re gonna need a hill.
Define “hill.”
Well…
I spoke to a woman this week who survived 15 years of spousal abuse, followed by the very near death of her newborn.
My friend just lost his father unexpectedly early.
My sister is allergic to just about everything except meat, veggies and fruit and aches and swells if she gets the wrong thing in her food.
Our Compassion children feel the actual ache of real, ongoing hunger and live in shanties and catch diseases through their bare feet.
These are pretty monstrous hills, I’d say. And those who climb them with their eyes on the prize will be shaped into something of greater strength, wisdom and grace.
Me? At this point and for the past several years, my hills have looked pretty much exactly like…well…gifts.
What We’ve Been Given
They ARE gifts. Things have been entrusted to my care and nurture which require much time, effort and courage. The weight of responsibility often terrifies me, and admittedly – sadly – I sometimes long to escape the expectations or needs of others. To walk away from the everyday realities I’ve been called to.
One small part of this is that it has taken years and years for me to be able to play and sing on a stage and not want to throw up or pass out, so I feared “success” (more opportunity) as much as I feared failure. Even the compulsion to create, or to share what we create, can at times seem a burden.
These are the gentle inclines I have been given and must lean into. I can’t run from them or try to travel around them. I must not judge them too great or too small for me. These are the inclines I have been given.
And you have yours.
They are the climbs that require faith and endurance and start us quaking and leave us sweaty and out of breath. Improved. Invigorated. Stronger and braver. Grateful. Ecstatic. Bone-tired. Confident. Dependent.
It’s a lovely song, but honestly…one cannot climb every mountain. You can only climb yours, and climb them you must.
When we meet a hill, let’s face it: there will be no mountaintop experiences until we have sweated and cried our way up the incline.
So, I guess what I’m saying is: Cheers to getting in shape!
great words here…I think we just might hear the heart of this in a song one day:)…I tell myself…my kids…I wish there was another way to grow…get stronger…to be reshaped…transformed than by the “up hill” climbs. Just like working out…when we are out of shape…living the self indulgent life…even the smallest of “hills” can suck the breath right out of us…but if we are willing to “train”…building our muscles…eventually…the hills don’t intimate us…we still see them…we can still wish we could bypass them…but because He has shown Himself faithful all along the way…we can climb those hills with HIm:)
blessings to you as you climb your hills with Him~
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, sweet R!
so timely for me in the current season of knowing one job is coming to an end and i’ve yet to find the next job…leaning into that hill of trust and faith.
Stephanie, so sorry you’re in that difficult place. I get it – that uncertainty. Praying for you as you lean!
hope to cross paths again one of these days!
cnw
We’ve started riding bikes recently and I know what you mean about the hill…it makes it feel less like a hobby and more like work, yet I know it’s a good pain. And so is the practice of writing, even when it feels like I have to stand up and put all my weight on the pedals just to inch up the incline, each piece I write, even (and maybe especially) the ones that don’t come easy, they are exercise.
LOVE that image of standing on the pedals. Really great.
cnw
Just what I needed to read today – trying to embrace the hill and give thanks in it (not despite it)… love ya!
I love this post, Christa! Early mornings AND running? Way to go…we ARE twins!
Yes, we are, except I’m the slow one panting 2 football fields behind you. LOL
i get what you are saying dear friend, such lovely thoughts and musings from you always. just please be careful not to mix up horrendous life situations with your gifts. Yes those are hills in a way, and those define your journey, but – and i trust you respect loving conversation
– BUT we must keep it straight. A child living in a trash dump or a person literally going to bed hungry should not be compared or in the same breath of “hills” in the manner you did.
Laurie, thank you!
Yes, I DO appreciate loving discourse, and you’re absolutely right that it would be wrong to imply that my challenges or burdens are sad or tragic as these others. I’m sorry it came across that way. Because the difficulties that accompany maintenance or exercise of our gifts (talents, resources, children, work) is a good thing, where as poverty and death are results of brokenness and sin.
So in that sense, I completely agree that they don’t belong in the same sentence. Now, here’s my too-long stream of consciousness as I ponder your thoughts! ☺
However, I didn’t intend to compare them in that way. This was a reflection on the way we approach and tackle whatever it is we are faced with, good or bad. We don’t often get to choose. Good things can feel bad at times; genuine hard times can carry glimpses of otherwise unknown beauty. From this perspective, not comparing one life to another is the point. We do stand side by side, we pass each other in the street and live next door to each other and yes – I think – can stand in the same sentence.
A mother might say to her children: “You have nothing to cry about, you’re not an abused child. I was an abused child.” That would be unfair and ineffective, because a well-loved child only knows what they have been given and cannot stop feeling upset about the spinach just because they are not abused. They cry because their pain or frustration relative to their own experience, is great. And that’s all we really know.
Of course, as we mature we remind ourselves that there is always someone how has less or who suffers more and we practice gratitude and perspective. This is true for all humans, though, even the beggar. And…I think we can cry from healthy exhaustion at the end of a good day’s work, or from the simple grief of a relocation or broken relationship and not feel guilty or ashamed.
In this context, we can, I think, put us all in the same sentence: Whatever the Father allows into your life (insert any of the above good or bad), that is the thing you must deal with, and He will give you the strength to climb that specific hill.
Thank you for clarifying and digging even deeper on this, Christa
I agree, may we all say together – very much as a “we,” fellow wanderers in this life – that whatever is in our life at any point on the journey, He will give us the strength to climb that hill. Thanks for sharing your ponderings and journey with the world. Your soul is beautiful and I see the beautiful Lord woven in you. Held 
Laurie, thank you!
You inspired more thought on this, and I am so grateful!
sweet, christa. appreciate your realness and honesty.
amy
thank you, Amy.
Ah! This post makes me want to stand up and cheer on so many levels:) The fact that my night-owl friend is getting up early and taking on hills with JOY is almost more than this old heart can take. You are an athlete! See!!! Love it and love you, and that is my most favorite picture of the week-end. So much fun. Let’s do it again.
And…I just adore you.