Immediately past the horse we called Redman (because he once ate an entire pouch of it in one bite and wheezed a continuous 15 seconds) was another place that we would go when we needed to get away. The fence had barbed wire around the top, so after we slid under the unnoticeably loose section on the backside, we knew we were safe.
It took courage to climb the 200 rungs to the top of the tower. It never looked that high driving by, but like a dog that bites, it was always scarier when standing there facing it. No matter how brave you felt outside the fence, when you got to the ladder it was different. We would occasionally take someone new. We would warn them it was scary, but they would talk tough, saying, “I’ll climb it, no problem.” But most didn’t. They would stand at the base of the ladder and look up, considering the consequences, then have some lame excuse why they wouldn’t go up.
But I would go up anyway. Maybe I was too dumb to acknowledge the fear. But maybe that is how I was designed. Just maybe I was created and prepared for this time. And if I stood at the base of the ladder then with a mouthful of excuses, maybe I would be doing the same now.
Tara would also be a climber. I know that now. I think back to the diagnosis, the surgery and the first few rounds of chemo. That was some deep stuff, and hard. She had no choice but to start climbing the ladder; no whining; no excuses. We don’t even recognize the fear anymore. We just know to hold on tight to the ladder and keep moving up the rungs, one foot in front of the other. That is how we make each day.
God is our strength; our help in times of trouble. Whom shall we fear?