I’m on the flight back from Las Vegas, after visiting the Grand Canyon. (Warning: if pics annoy, stop reading now.) We were delayed an hour and a half which means I don’t get to kiss my babies good night. Although I’ve done this task countless times before, the loss of just one time makes my heart sad knowing these moments are limited.

It’s how life goes sometimes and accepting that which I cannot change is one great secret of happiness, I suppose.

I’ve seen something majestic over the last few days. We walked 6 miles yesterday observing every possible angle and peak we could soak in. We never stopped feeling awe.

I didn’t understand how desperately my soul needed what the Grand Canyon was selling.

What is it exactly that makes you unable to stop staring, draws international attention and unobtrusively yet unabashedly puts you in your place?!? Its sheer vastness took pressure off my soul reminding me yet again that life is not all about me.

It’s sweeping and drastic, the contrast of low to high. It’s the fear of sudden drop that makes your knees quiver with weakness but also the breathtaking accomplishment of impossibility in an immediate rise from your lowest point. It’s the promise that change can come quickly and nothing is as it seems.

Nature speaks to me because I am terrified of those valleys that life has to offer. I squirm at even the thought of pain looking for an escape, an excuse, anything really to move me off that place.

I close my heart at the threat of pain stopping my decent into the unknown. Yet it’s in those deep crevices where the river of truth runs and there is proof of life. If my heart is closed, the truth can’t flow. If we bravely feel the pain, maybe we will finally find the truth.

My weakness that is private and hidden but the truth in the river tells me I am still accepted. Knowing true acceptance in the midst of failure is how you find strength.

The accusations I feel and I run from the shame. At the bottom, I can roll off the shame and wash clean with the promise of a new start.

There is a desire to hear her again, to do the last few days of her life different, the “if I had only known”. In the pain of accepting what can’t be erased, there is a voice that whispers in the wind that the story isn’t over. There is still more to be written.

I’m afraid we’ve become adept at avoiding pain. We circle our woundings unwilling to dive in. Living in that circling pattern is only wearing us down, driving us into harmful habits and fracturing our future.

Maybe feeling pain, allowing ourselves to admit to it, is the secret to feeling the greatest joy.

Think about it. The stories that we recount, we revisit in human history are those where pain is followed by great triumphs. It’s the story of victory that we all want to live. The sudden rise from the bottom. These are the majestic views that the world wants to gather around to see.

No one wants to live the pain. It’s awful and feeling it is the worst. But these stories start with the pain and everything changes when the truth is found.

It’s these stories of victory that inspire others. With desperation, they cling to the lessons you learned and it’s that belief that gets them through their own worst nightmares. These testimonies hold the keys of victory to the future generations.

They birth greatness. It’s the kind of greatness that in the spirit of mankind become like the 7 Wonders of the World. The Wonders in nature cannot speak yet they communicate truth. But the stories of mankind that the Spirit speaks through our mouths become the truth that others need. Believe me, they are the most breath taking, awe inspiring view for the world to visit, each in their own time of need. To leave encouraged, less wounded and fattened for the journey ahead.

It’s the pain to the joy, the great contrast. The canyon that leads to the truth, the story is told and another soul is fed.