When God commanded Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, he prepared, made a journey with his complacent son, climbed a mountain, built an alter, and was on the verge of plunging the knife when he was stopped by an angel. Why was he stopped? Because it was the journey not the result that was the crucial part. I have heard that each of us will be allowed trials that will be our own equivalent of Abraham's trial. Perhaps this journey was part of mine, and even more so because of the result.

To put it another way, I have learned to be more submissive, to be more loving, to continue to strive through confusion, to go forward even when I do not understand. That was my journey. I hope I have grown and been strengthened through it.

The children of Israel were with Moses on the border of the promised land when the forty years of wandering began. Did forty years of desert living bring them closer to where they thought they should be? Not a bit. For them they needed forty years of their journey to make them more who the Lord would want them to be.

I guess that is one lesson that I have learned these months. As I have struggled, at times the thoughts come into my head that perhaps this is how Mary felt when no one believed her, or how Job felt when his friends argued with him and told him that he was wrong or crazy. I have ached and prayed with Hannah, rejoiced in secret with Elizabeth, wept and been loved as Rachel. As I have recognized these things, the scripture stories have become more real to me. Each person in them I see as real, as having their own struggles, dreams and desires. As I try to know them better, I can love them more, and revere the good examples more greatly, and mourn the bad more fully.

I have likened the scriptures unto myself and have grown for the exercise. I have learned and grown and I am grateful for that, though the journey has been rough. I pray that this will be not only for my own good, but that I may impart some of this love to my children.