Of Rocks… and Rolling

Four miles. I mean, really, how difficult could four miles be? I’d walked twice that before, and the Rose River Trail in the Shenandoah National Park was only rated moderate.

My sister and I went in on the fire road; it’s harder to start that way, but then you have an easy, smooth trek out the final mile or so. Unfortunately, I stumbled over a rock less than a mile in, and went flying off the trail. Slowly, I pulled myself up to almost sitting. Sore wrist. Sore hip. My sister noted my right temple was bleeding. When she investigated, it turned out to be a small cut caused by the sunglasses I’d been wearing.

“Do you want to go back?” she asked after I stood up and brushed off a little.

I thought for a minute. We’d planned this hike for a while. Nothing seemed broken. “Let’s go on,” I said.

It wasn’t the easiest hike in the world. I fell again on the rocks, and had to crawl on my hands and knees across one short stretch. But in the parts where it was hard to keep moving forward, going back didn’t seem like an option either. So we rolled on.

It occurred to me as we made the last turn to the smooth straightaway that this hike was a bit like my life these days. I’ve had a couple of disappointments, one professional, one personal, neither unexpected. And just as on the trail, going back isn’t an option. And so, I roll on, a little battered and bruised, but I roll on.

By Melanie

Melanie Rigney is the author of Radical Saints: 21 Women for the 21st Century and other Catholic books. She is a contributor to Living Faith and other Catholic blogs. She lives in Arlington, Virginia. Melanie also owns Editor for You, a publishing consultancy that since 2003 has helped hundreds of writers, publishers, and agents.

8 comments

  1. Ah, there’s the thing, you see. There is never going back. There is only denial. Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice but to “Carry On.”

  2. There’s a verse in Isaiah, one of my favorites, that talks about, “When you walk through the waters, I will be with you,” and goes on to say that the rivers won’t overflow us. I used to picture that verse as the Israelites standing on the edge of the Red Sea, right before God parted the waters and made a way for them. But, a new image came to mind a few months ago that might fit the verse better–Jesus in the middle of a raging river, carrying me. We both get wet, but I’m not overwhelmed. And, He is right there the whole time, holding me in His arms.

  3. Always press on but always remember what brought you to this place. Most of all remember the lessons learned from the other times you fell

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