the ranch

Well, I graduated from college. Yep. It's real. It's real life and it's real scary (really, for those of you who are English majors and are very annoyed when people remove the -ly from adverbs). I know I talk a lot about reflecting on my life, but I am legitimately at the pinnacle point of life reflection. I also am at one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous places I have ever seen (well, it at least ranks in the top ten). It is a ranch in Sherman, TX, near Dallas. The green rolling hills, the still pristine lakes, the muddy 4-wheeler trails, the vast expanse of blue sky, the solemn chapel, the beautiful songs of local birds, the cross - dressed in white - atop the highest peak, a blanket of clouds only allowing the sun's rays to peek through... peace in all its splendor. It's easy to think around here. You just can't help it.

Today we arrived and immediately hopped on 4-wheelers. It was amazing to just ride free in the hills: the mud slapping my face, the thrill of a wide-open engine, and the adrenaline rush as I took a turn going 30 mph, the ground threatening to claim my fall. I haven't felt that way in a long time... I used to feel that way every time I caught a great wave, but it's been a while since I have gone surfing. I consider reckless 4-wheeler driving a blessing from God. My point in writing tonight wasn't to talk about my ATV adventures, but instead to talk about how God is working in my life...

After all of us got back to the house from our escapades, I decided to go for a run. While riding around we discovered that one of the higher peaks had a beautiful vintage 

wooden cross overlooking the countryside. It was adorned with a white sheet and a crown of thorns. The view from this height was absolutely astounding. In light of this, I was going to trek up to that hillside in particular and ponder. I knew this journey was most likely going to be difficult, specifically remembering my 4-wheeler struggling up a lot of the hillsides, but nevertheless I was up for the challenge.

A few minutes into my run, I realized how ridiculous an idea this was. Panting, I made it up the first "mountain." Two more to go. It was a grueling hike up the second, but I finally made it to the third and most wanted hill after 15 minutes of sheer pain. The cross was in sight at this point. I began my ascent, and just as I suspected, my body began begging me to quit. Eyes fixed on the cross and my goal, I carried on. Half way there... A few more yards... A few more feet... Finished. In high school, I ran cross country, and usually about 2 miles into the race, you get to the "quitting" point. Basically, it's that point where you have absolutely no energy left and your mind can choose to overpower your physical self to continue on and finish the race, or you can just give in to what your body is telling you. I love mind over matter - it's symbolic to conquering the flesh. If I got to the point where my mind was having a hard time convincing my body, I would picture the cross, the crucifixion, the agony, Christ's death. I know it seems morbid, but the cross was meant to remind us and to encourage us. He endured so much more on the cross; I can finish this race.

So as I approach the cross, relief spreads over my body as I feel the ground level out. I did it. I'm not one to stop and smell the roses during a run, so it was strange that I just felt the need to stop and stare. Hands on my hips, examining the earth down below, I felt like the king of the 

world (or at least like Simba in reference to a conversation with Mufasa - "everything the light touches"). I sat down in front of the cross and comfort permeated. I rested my head on a nice patch of grass and closed my eyes. I have never felt so relaxed in my life. I'm beginning to think that God knew exactly what I needed. A vacation. Not just to get out of town, but to get out of life, get out of thought, get out of expectations... I couldn't help but think of the symbolism in all of this. Pressing on toward our goal (the cross) might be a hard and painful task. Relief comes when we reach the top. There we find ultimate peace and unmatched beauty. There we bask in glory. Not our own, but His glory.

I know in my time of reflection and change, I doubt, fear, and run. I hope that I can stop looking for answers to questions I already know, and rest assured. Literally, rest. Stop and smell the roses once in a while - it might bring you peace beyond your understanding.

.kristen.