Wise Words from a Saint and Sister

My beautiful elderberry

 I ordered this used book online.

 Do you know Helen Roseveare? She was a medical missionary in Africa in the middle of the 20th Century. She knew struggle, she knew sin, and she knew suffering. She also made it her life's goal to know God. I'm still pondering that balance in life -- the importance of knowing God, and the importance of being known by God.

Here's a quote from Roseveare in her introduction to the book that I read over and over, finding it so wise, so helpful. It's long. I will pare it down to make it more succinct:

"My life ... has been for me a journey toward one definite and glorious goal, 'that I may know Him.' I have often felt that my life was akin to mountaineering, with a clear goal to reach the highest peak .... I found frequently that I climbed in glorious sunshine ... my face set determinedly for the nearest peak .... I revelled in the sense of achievement and victory and in the glorious view .... Then, slowly, my imagination would be caught by the next peak ... and eventually the resolve would form to set off upwards again.
"Here I made a mistake, many times .... As I went down from the present peak into the valley between the mountains, I was often shadowed by the very peak I had been enjoying .... This often led to despair .... I see now that I was wrong in this 'feeling.' The going down was merely an initial moving forward towards the next higher ground, never a going back to base level. The shadow was only relative after the brightness of the sun; the valley could provide rest for working out the experiences previously learnt, a time for refreshment before the next hard climb."

And here's the part that grabbed me:
"Had I understood this meaning of the sunshine and shadow in my life rather than interpreting my experiences along life's way as 'up' and 'down,' I might have saved myself many deep heartaches" (p. 8)

Are you ever puzzled as you try to interpret the events of your life, especially as you get older and it becomes apparent that most of your life is done, and there's little time to somehow "fix" the past or even see it in an improved context? I do, all the time. I find Roseveare's words so comforting as I remember (or am living in) those shadowed, deep valleys where perspective is limited. I usually close my eyes, figuratively speaking, and just survive. Grit my teeth and wait on the Lord. Look at Roseveare's counsel: those dark, low valleys are a time for rest, reflection, refreshment. And if they seem dark, perhaps it's only in contrast to the brightness of the breath-taking mountain peaks we teeter on for five minutes before each descent.

I've barely begun her thin autobiography, but I think it will be rich with wisdom like this.