I have anemia. It’s kinda bad. I have to receive blood transfusions and iron infusions every whip-stitch to stay active. Severe anemia comes with bummer symptoms. I get tired easily. Not the typical, “I’m tired after a long day,” tired. But the, “my bones and joints ache, I have molasses in my veins, you cannot understand unless you’ve lived it” tired. Standing up too quickly isn’t recommended. I’m always cold. Sleeping soundly is difficult because my poor overloaded red blood cells have a hard time carrying enough oxygen to other needy cells. My hair is thin. It’s not a fun time. 

In a season of the greatest fatigue I’ve ever experienced, I am also the busiest I have ever been. Figures.

In October, Steve and I went to Stowe, Vermont to do some leaf-peeping. The foliage was absolutely stunning as we were fortunate enough to be there at near peak conditions. One afternoon, Steve decided on a whim that it would be fun to hike a path. This particular trail promised a pretty outlook over a mountainous expanse. I could not have been more excited to view lit up colorful trees near sunset from a high vantage point.

About five minutes into the steady uphill trail, a descending hiker passed us to our left. I casually asked him, “How far is it to the top?” I fully expected him to answer with an estimate of ten to fifteen minutes. It turned out that there indeed was a nice view about a ten minute hike away. However, he informed us that there was an even better magnificent view “at the top” if we had it in our tanks to make the summit. 

Our mind was made up in an instant. Steve and I were making the climb.

This was ill-advised. The time was nearing sunset. We had a three hour hike and two hours of light left. This of course meant the hike down would be mostly in the dark. We weren’t properly dressed for Vermont in October- especially after dark. We weren’t carrying water bottles or flashlights. But I was determined. Goal set. We. Were. Going. 

And so we climbed. As we climbed, the path got steeper. The temperature got colder. The air got less dense. Once we reached a particular elevation, I began to see snow on the side of the path. The vegetation transitioned from beautiful colorful deciduous trees to snow capped conifers. The ground went from leaf covered clay to icy mud. 

Our day had already been a full one. Previous to our hike, we had walked around the town of Stowe and done all the touristy things. Our sight-seeing had been enough to make a healthy person fatigued. 

But I was not a normal healthy person. I had severe anemia.

Somewhere about an hour into the hour-and-a-half uphill climb, I began to get tired. Bone. Tired. I was scrambling over boulders. Climbing over iced surfaces. Crunching through snow. My legs were shaking. My heart was doing that annoying palpitation thing telling me I was nearing “tap out” time.

Instead of giving up and obeying my protesting body, I silently prayed for help. The Holy Spirit began to direct my thoughts. Dozens of memories and scenarios percolated to the surface. 

I thought of how my marine friend survived torture training by not letting his drill sergeants weaken his mind or resolve.

I thought of Kenneth Bae, a Christian prisoner in North Korea. His testimony, which I had the privilege of transcribing for his memoir Not Forgotten, included details of a relentless barrage of Kim Jong Un’s propaganda, broadcasted in his cell 24 hours a day. He survived this mental assault and other tortures by renewing his mind with God’s promises and finding solace in the constancy of Jesus’ love.

I thought of the Apostle Paul in a freezing, dank, dripping Roman prison writing the magnificent astounding words before his execution, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7-8)

I thought of the scene in the movie, Gattaca, when Ethan Hawk’s character, Vincent, out swam his genetically enhanced brother, Anton, because Vincent never thought of quitting.

I thought of Navy Seals refusing to ring the bell to signal that they were tapping out of training. “Make it through or die,” one Seal graduate had said.   

I thought of Christians all throughout the world who were hiding their Bibles from authorities. Ducking in caves to worship. Losing loved-ones to persecution. Risking their temporal lives to save eternal ones.  

Over and over and over again, scenario after scenario, God brought to mind people who had persevered. 

I thought about grit and how it is the greatest predictor of success. 

I thought that if these courageous folks God was bringing to mind could persevere to do amazing big things, surely I could will my feet to keep ascending to accomplish this small thing.

I thought about how it is the people who show up even when it is hard who get the lasting victory. 

In a MUCH less dramatic fashion than these other people I was thinking about had made it, I showed up and made it to the summit too. I refused to quit. I kept going. And as I climbed the last few icy boulders to reach the top of the mountain, I wondered if this small test was mere training for some greater adversity coming in the future.

“If so, Jesus,” I thought, “Help me to endure to the end.” For those who endure to the end will be saved. (Matthew 24:13)

I made it to the top that day, just as I make it out of bed and through my “to do” list every day. Daily I discipline my body to go when it doesn’t want to go (1 Corinthians 9:27). I climb on. Mind over matter. Will over circumstances. Every. Single. Day. After all, this world is temporary. I am merely a traveler passing through (1 Peter 2:11). There is a prize to be won, a goal set, (1 Corinthians 9:4) and a King to make proud (Matthew 25:23). He’s given me such a little bit of time down here (James 4:14) to do the things He prepared for me in advance to do (Ephesians 2:10). Even though I mess up and act in a way unbecoming of a princess sometimes (1 Peter 2:9), He’s with me (Hebrews 13:5) and forgiving me (1 John 1:9). Jesus, along with so many others, encourages me to never ring the bell and quit (Hebrews 12:1). For when I am weak, He is strong (1 Corinthians 12:10), and apart from Him I can do nothing (John 15:5). 

By the way, not only did Steve and I summit the mountain, we made it safely down the trail in the dark with only a cell phone to light the way. I could write a whole other post about that little light’s power, but that’ll be for another day. The roaring fire and pizza we enjoyed late that evening at the “base camp” restaurant was its own reward!