Because I have been there. Standing on a ledge I never asked for—a diagnosis, a loss, a broken dream—looking down at the drop and feeling my own humanity tremble. And in that tremor, realizing: I am still standing. Not because I have strong hands, but because something beneath me holds. A hidden architecture of grace. Hooves that find purchase on stone that should have sent me sliding.
The heights will never be easy. But they can be home for the creature with the right feet. pies de ciervas en los lugares altos - fav
And that, truly, is my favorite thing: that the same God who sets the wild deer on the crag says to you, “Here. Walk here. I made your feet for this.” For the leader of the choir. On stringed instruments. —Adapted from Habakkuk 3:19 Because I have been there