In The Valley.

It is much like this; like flowers in a valley.

---
At the mouth of a valley, you know what you are about to face. Deep, dark secrets linger about the musty air, whispering quietly, harshly, against the damp, mossy walls. Just one step in, and the wind arouses- it is excited. A small breeze isn't a breeze at all- you are suddenly cold, and your entire body is on edge. That presence that so comfortingly followed you before, now feels almost absent, and you are left almost utterly alone. The sun that urged you on so warmly, so encouragingly, and so surely, has escaped from the eve of the valley, it is swept away with the wind. There is nothing that would bid you onwards, unless you knew, and absolutely trusted that beyond every valley, a hill resides, and will return you to the crisp air, and the warm embrace of the sun once again.

And you do know this. So onwards, you walk, into the damp, into the unknown. The path is rocky - if it was to say that there is any path at all. Stray roots from under deadened trees seem to want to strangle your footing, and often you stumble, but you do not fall, for you are still strong from the sun's provision. But the darkness drifts towards you, slowly, inevitably, and ebbs away at any remaining light that you so depend on. You squint your eyes. Soon enough, they'll adjust, mind you. They were made cunningly for such moments as this. Your hands are stretched as far as arm's length will allow, and you feel your way through, for as surely as the darkness has settled, your vision has faded. You waver around. Nothing is familiar. You grope, and shuffle about... the wind is like the cold belly of a snake slithering along your shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. You slow down, and stop. You know you cannot turn back. But what can you do when you cannot see beyond this lingering darkness? But your vision is adjusting, slowly, surely, and soon, you see something.

Ahead, a single flower resides. It seems to be illuminated by a tiny stream of light, and though it is clouded and murky from the polluted air that you must breathe, the blossom gleams like stars against the night sky as it stems from a black pit within the crevasse of the valley. It shines. And it reminds you once again, of that hill- that beautiful hill, sprouting in abundance with flora, and streams that run alongside green grass where you may be laid to rest, under the shade of a flourishing tree bearing bright, ripened fruit. That hill is abundance - and it is where you are going once you conquer the dangers, the fears, and the insecurities hidden deep in the heart of the valley.

And so, you can take another step. But be careful! For you must not take the flower with you. The flower cannot sustain you, for as soon as you uproot it from its habitat, surely, it will wither, and die. You perhaps should leave it there, and simply be reminded of the abundance of which the flower originated from. How can something so alive, so full of joy and prosperity, live in such a deathly valley? Surely, if this flower has been conditioned to bear the harshest that this valley has to offer, and yet is still cared for, and brims with such warmth and goodness, surely, you are cared for just as well, if not more, and can journey safely, soundly into the depths of the dark.

Memories of that flower- no, of your destination: that hill - must linger in your mind, but as you wade through the darkness, darkness eats away at all seeming joy. It seems to feed on you - as you resonate with joy, darkness growls, and and magnifies. If you had carried that flower with you, and had drawn your strength from its warmth, surely it has failed you now. Its life has waned, for it is no longer sustained, and can no longer sustain you. You can no longer hope in it, for what precious life it had, nestled within the crevasses and cracks of the valley, you have stolen from.

A feeble flower. You cannot rely on it. But bear in mind the reminders it holds: its life is so sufficiently provided for in the darkest of dark. It is a signature of blessing; a reminder of the place you journeyed from, and venture towards once again. And, just as the little thing gleamed in a tiny shed of light, surely, the sun has not faded. The valley may impair your vision, but it cannot destroy the sun it so desperately tries to hide from you.

And so you continue. But the darkness grows ever darker, and your vision wanes, and your strength fails, and you begin to lose heart. Don't lose heart! Look left! Look right! Find those flowers that are sprouting up among the darkness! Though they do not sustain you, they remind you that this valley cannot destroy even the most delicate of beings, and it will most unequivocally not be able to conjure up the strength to destroy you, for, though the sun may fade, and warmth may be deficit, though your body fails, and provisions are scarce, the one who calls you is faithful, and He will carry you through.

These blossoms; though there are not many, they are sufficient. They are like lamps that guide your path. Even in your darkest hour, a little lamp will shine through, not beyond your vision, and it will light your way.

The valley can no longer overcome you. It never could, for though the darkness seeps in, and steals away our warmth, it is not warmth that we rely on. And these flowers, though their warmth is temporary, and we cannot journey onwards with them in our grasp, they instill in us the hope that we have that cannot be taken away, for surely we will be delivered, just as these flowers spring from the darkest, murkiest habitats known to man, and we will reach the promised land, flowing with milk and honey. Land of abundance.

---
Indeed, it is so much like this. Our blessings, like flowers in our deepest turmoils. And though God's presence may seem distant, we do not lose heart, for as surely as the sun rises, He is faithful to us, and He will never leave us or forsake us.

And though we are blessed, we do not place our hope in these blessings, but on the one who provides them. For where God is, there life is also, like flowers...
Even in the deepest valleys.

PTL, Sarah.