The one who encouraged me to try when I thought I couldn't do it.
The one who was willing to walk with me, far behind everyone else, instead of yielding to my desire to be carried.
He knew that pain and exercise must come before strength.
That only through perseverance would I have the joy of reaching the top of the mountain.
Those memories so clearly remind me of the way my heavenly father has dealt with me. I didn't want to go through the pain of climbing those mountains, but He held my hand all the way. And together we gained the victory.
Thank you, Dad, for holding my hand, for tenderly leading me up each one of those mountains. But more than that, for encouraging me to never give up--especially in my walk with God.
I love you!