WEDNESDAY: A Little More

BY MATTHEW BERG

Copyright is held by the author.

“JUST A a little,” he told himself, and with that he walked a little. Just a little more, he thought, and walked a little more. It would be a long journey. It would be a difficult one. Somehow though, in the weariness of his soul, he knew he had to make the journey and the first steps were taken to freedom at long last. Over and over he kept doing this in his mind.

Lying in a hospital bed recovering from a horrific crash, he wasn’t able to move. This was the journey he had to take, so he did. Despair clouded the valley he was in, yet still he kept walking. Fear would seek to walk with him, but he’d chase away this unwelcome traveller. These destructive elements would not keep him, in his thoughts or emotions. “Just a little more,” he repeated to himself upon waking, upon eating, upon reaching his non-responsive body. Here he’d journey through the wreckage of his battered self, a broken spirit and body that was waiting for healing. And the one to overcome it? Himself.

“Just a little more,” he said, taking steps through his mind and through his heart. He’d fall on the steps, then he’d get back up, over and over. Disappointment was met on the journey and left almost immediately after their encounter. In and out that unwelcome traveller sought to join him and yet he’d chase disappointment away time and time again. Hopelessness tried to say “Hello” and was given a simple downward head nod on the road that was walked. Even that one wouldn’t be allowed to join his now noble quest to victory. Doubt tried to change his “travel plans” but the man was found deaf to those destructive rendezvous. He was determined and continued on in stubborn refusal to simply give up, to even invite those travellers on the path he now walked upon was death to him, and he wasn’t willing to die that way.

“Just a little more,” he’d say to himself minute upon minute, hour upon hour, each day searching for stability once more. The clouds would roll over him and still he’d rise to Healthy, who motivated him, and Hopeful, who invited him toward complete renewal as he walked through pain and rehab on every level.  He’d give dark cloudy thoughts and emotions a simple acknowledgement and then turn his focus toward the sunshine up ahead of him: Full Healing, who bid him to hurry.

He thought of those who needed him. He thought of those he needed. And these visual reminders were more than enough to push him toward his destination. Thinking about their regular visits to his hurt self, in the hospital where he would wrestle with his terrible ordeal (and with himself) were light and hope to him. These were steps toward a self who was whole and unbroken again and he would kept going until he reached his destination! Healthy never looked more beautiful, welcoming, or inviting than this. Sure it was only a toe and a finger that moved, but it was a little hope on a dark and difficult road walked and that little encouraged nonetheless.

Day after day he’d have to start over, journey again toward his destination. Now thought, it was a different destination. He was already within the place, now he was exploring it fully. He was a traveller without directions upon each new venture. He’d still pass Hopelessness from time to time. Still give the same downward nod toward him as he looked about these once foreign surroundings he’d walked blindly through. Places called “Mobility And How To” came into view and he’d explore them, browse the various lands and their customs while becoming fluent in the languages. In the way forward he’d “practice the language ” of such places, over and over telling himself the words and phrases he had begun learning again. All the while, more than simply a toe and finger began to move again.

Pain was felt in his actual body as these new places were travelled to and explored fully — a lot of pain. Mountains in his soul were encountered at these times, though now he could see their summits and remember how far he’d come. Fatigue entered his body from without and Disappointment sought to stop him from within. Freedom was met and ran at Disappointment on his inward quest toward the mountain’s base, and they fought. Back and forth they’d battle with every attack growing in intensity.

The “simple skirmish” grew to the most violent engagement he’d ever witnessed! Blows were exchanged back and forth as the man remembered his progress and refused to let go of healing and complete mobility once more. This inward war went on for days and eventually was won by Freedom as the man’s muscles grew stronger and his injured body parts mended. Though, he knew he couldn’t focus too much on the mountains before him, or the anticipated exhaustion in the climb toward healing’s heights. He could only acknowledge both and continue on.

The ascension would take almost everything out of him and his progress would be in small “wins”. He’d celebrate each one with his now returning visits to his physical therapy sessions. All the while, he thought these small victories of regaining mobility and motor skills were like mountaintops that once seemed impossible to climb.

A brother who came to aid him cheered him on with each hand and arm raised and took the physical therapy with the man. The brother had his own mountaintops calling him to climb and began writing a book about social anxiety and how to overcome it. Each day, the brother took little steps to talk with others and really listen as fear of rejection entered his soul. This once overly timid brother was empowered by love for the man who motivated the brother to continue climbing with him. The brother would always start out as a wreck with each visit to the man’s side, and leave a little stronger, taking deep breaths and locking onto the small moments he was having with different people and experiences as he supported the man along the way.

Others heard about the brother’s previous encounters with these “climbs” from the hospitalized man and took note of the changes emerging in him (ones the man also noticed and frequently mentioned to all he could). Fear would always lunge at the brother inwardly even before getting in his vehicle to travel to the hospital. Still he’d use this new strength he was finding to fight back.

The brother and the man took their steps and climbs together.  A little more freedom and a little more fight were found on the way towards self-confidence and healing.

The two brothers were becoming whole and the calls to climb mountains kept spreading.

A little boy saw the brothers’ courageous exploits and started to hear mountains call to him as well. He planted his feet and hands on the side of his mountain. He would hear “Don’t try. You will always be this way,” but still this 10-year-old boy would get up, despite his physical pain, to find his “new muscles” after each attack of juvenile arthritis. He’d hear the voices of both Disappointment and Fear from behind as he went ahead, attacking his mountain in his attempts to reach the top. His parents heard his pain as he endured physical therapy, but his “climb” was noticed by the two brothers. On one fateful day they crossed paths, while the hospitalized man, Phil, was making his way to his summit. He saw the boy, Ted, in passing and stopped (as painful as it was), looked him in the eyes, and said with fire in his gaze, “Climb. You can do this!” Such reassurance and motivation not only empowered the Ted, it stoked a fire in him also. Phil’s brother Mark saw this, smiled, and regained his fire also on a day that had been  particularly difficult for him.

Three brave explorers reached new ground up those mountains before them. These weren’t easy advances, though now they were becoming possible ones. Terror would strike Mark, yet he’d learn to talk with others despite the PTSD and survivor’s guilt he’d suffered from the wreck he and Phil were in. He climbed walls that were unscalable to him before. The fear that it could happen again now began to fall away more and more as Mark continued to reach new ground. Phil saw his brother’s climb and patted him on the shoulder (painful to him or not), and smiled at him. Then they’d start climbing again, together.

Ted achieved a little more freedom as his fear dropped away and he climbed higher and closer to the top of his mountain. His parents and grandparents could see the new Ted and shared the news with others around them. They remembered Phil’s fiery gift and tell of his influence and example that equipped their son along his own difficult journey. A little more hope was given with each telling of these bold and empowering stories. “Keep going,” Phil would call to Ted as they both struggled in physical therapy. Surprise and then smiles soon followed that particular day, when Mark whispered to himself “I am.”

The telling of these three stories even reached curious (and somewhat skeptical) journalists who were climbing mountains of their own. They’d walk through valleys and arrive at mountains of faith in the impossible at witnessing these lives being changed. Tales were told. Examples given. Even a full display of this wild adventure being taken as they saw Phil “climb”. Mark would beat back fear as he interacted with the journalist. Ted would “take a stand” against crippling pain and wild despair. And the journalist, a studious and insightful observer, would feel this God-given fire in their fight to overcome and be whole. He’d thank them for their time. He’d show them appreciation for their courage to share. He’d even find a little more motivation to do something he wasn’t planning at first: take their stories further than they knew. It was here that they’d be heard, truly heard in their way out of hopelessness.

An article was written. An editor was approached. A little more empowerment was given with each one who read these brazen acts of great triumph over great hardships. Letters were written. Money was sent. People all around began to “climb their own mountains ” and share their stories with Phil, Mark, and Ted. Such acts of great change stirred them all. Each one of the trio eventually climbed their mountains (perfectly or not), and now shared their stories with those who invited them before large audiences. Mark had the most trouble with this, yet was able to use the tools he was given to reach his mountaintops. They still had their bad days. They still struggled and were never the same, never the way they used to be. They were different and better for it. They still had mountains to climb, but now they knew they could reach new heights a little more at a time.

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Image of Matthew Berg

Matthew Berg is a renaissance man: follower of Jesus, husband, father and working writer from the American Midwest now living in the American South.