What does it mean to walk down the path when one knows not the middle but has faith in where it ends? Sometimes it simply means the slow and simple approach of taking that next step and planting your foot firmly upon the path and avoiding the temptation to look behind. That is good to remember and easy to exhort one to but considerably harder to remember in the moment when everything seems opposed to you. True? So as I trudge around the sputtering volcano and feel on my skin the warm brush of ash, I know that it is folly to attempt to turn back now and that path off to the side must be avoided at all costs. For truly where I come from is the halls of darkness and so instead now I lift my eyes to the skies and continue to bear this cross. It is not a fraction as heavy as the one the one before me bore. Remember that, my friend. So I whisper prayers I’ve said so many times before and softly aloud chant these promises that were written that I might delight in them. Heed the word written and look up to the promised word that stooped and wrote in the dust for you. And now though the fog settles and my feet are shrouded from my eyes I smile for I tell myself the stories of the coming glories that shall be written in the skies. Courage, dear heart.