A dear friend gifted a framed Celtic cross with the Irish saying “Your feet will take you where your heart is.” This morning, still battling two weeks of strep and acute bronchitis, I read the quote over and over. There it was. I put my feet on the floor with the whisper “take me there.”

I scaled the steep trail to the 8,027 foot summit as my body mirrored the trees bent double with the wind’s force. The image, stronger than the 50 mph wind gusts, stopped me in my tracks. Is that why I came despite the weak body and inability to breathe? Dunno. I only know I put my feet on the floor trusting them to take me where my heart needed to be. And there I was.

Knowing the answer is not the goal. And so it is.