Dear Lindsey,

Ciao! We are enjoying our vacation in Tuscany, Italy!

“Pasta, pizza, pasta, pizza, if I keep eating like this, I am going to weigh like 80 pounds when we get home from Italy!”

Hee! It sounded so funny coming from a 12-yr-old, but the thought HAD crossed my mind – if I keep eating like this, I am going to gain 80 pounds before we get home!

The delectable fruits and vegetables are on display at every frutteria and we devour them. The cantaloupe is so delicious, Chris, who for 19 years of marriage told me he didn’t like cantaloupe, has requested it, asking if it is the same fruit as we have at home.  I enjoyed my first “fico” two years ago here, and now recognize the figs growing in the tree next to our rented villa’s pool.  The green peppers, though shaped like jalapenos, are sweet- not spicy- and when sautéed in olive oil, entice even the kids. Fruits and vegetables are delicious; however it seems we are breaking an unwritten law if we don’t partake in the pastas and pizzas at restoranti who boast theirs as best.

The battle of the bulge needs a counterpart – exercise! Since Anytime Fitness doesn’t have a branch near our villa (LOL) and stone floors prevent indoor workouts, walking it is! Our villa, however, is at the base of a mountain. (OK, maybe it is a “hill” to those who live in mountainous places.) There is no leisurely stroll around a neighborhood. Narrow streets which seem to have been made for chariots leave no side room for pedestrians, so my only option is to CLIMB!

As the story goes: there are two wolves fighting inside my head. One wants to do good and the other wants to do bad. The one who wins is the one who gets fed.

“Oh but the birds are singing. I just want to sit and read!” The Bad wolf began.

“But I don’t want to roll home looking like a gnocchi.” The Good wolf smarted.

“I can just go later today.” Bad was pleading.

“But the high sun would scorch the path and walker alike, reaching 37 centigrade by 1300.” Good came back.   (I love my Italia-ish, but I think I mean upper nineties by 1:00pm.- i.e., HOT!)

My internal battle of a “good wolf vs bad wolf” continued silently while I tied on walking shoes.

I began the ascension in full denial of desire to do it. I just knew it was the right thing to do and the right time to make haste.

As I walked in the woods, a path cut last year was visible, but overgrown and itchy. Bugs seemed to jump from the leaves to my calves, then scurry, panicked at their arrival on foreign skin.

I went sideways on the hill, cutting the distance between grapevines and olive trees on the property of our “villa agrituristica.”  (It’s ironic that I am currently using wifi to write to you within the rented building, built in 1628!) “When does the path turn ‘UP’,” I wondered, staring up the hill that now beckoned. “I wonder what the view would look like from up there?”

I tried to remind myself of other hefty walks up Italian mountainsides in years past. The victory.  I don’t know any view could surpass the view from La Contea, a villa we had rented on the side of a mountain last year.  Its mountain had a church circa 1300A.D. at its apex, and revealed a panoramic view of Tuscany for incredible sunsets!

I turned upward on the mountainside. The steeper it got, the more I labored to breathe.

“What’s the altitude here?” I wondered, thinking I must need more oxygen.

“What if it is asthma?” My negative thoughts pelted me like biting gnats.

“I haven’t exercised in the five days we’ve been in Italy; my lungs need the exercise to break through the pain,” the other wolf countered.

What was that?! I heard it for sure. Something scurried to the right.

The night before, the Brady dinner table had been cleared faster than ever. I had seen a snake cross the stone path just feet from our outdoor dining, and I yelled “snake!” to which all four kids (and I) reacted by jumping up from the table to chase the snake…who was chasing a lizard.

That all seemed like fine entertainment – when the snake was in clear view on stones and preoccupied with a different prey. But now? On this mountainside, it seemed so dangerous. “What if I got a snakebite and Chris and the kids would have no idea where I was? They say you die from a viper’s bite if you are not at the hospital within 30 minutes.” I pressed on, trying to reframe my thoughts, but watching the ground where I trod.

Strawberries? Yes they are! The red on the forest floor shined brilliantly, worthy of a photo.  As I stopped and got breath, I took the photo and enjoyed the moment.  “What if I just sat here for a while? No one would know I wasn’t exercising – I will have been gone an hour regardless, right?”

But I had just read in Resolved (by Orrin Woodward), Joe Frazier’s famous words, “If I cheat when the lights are out, I will be found out under the big lights.” In other words: if I stop in the woods instead of continuing my climb, I will look like a gnocchi in no time.

The dense woods were irritating my legs – maybe there was a road, a place someone had already prepared to get to the top? If you seek, you will find – and there it was. I cut to the left, and found pavement.

Now, I could make some time! I hoofed it into gear, the exercise actually feeling good. As I rounded the corner, there was a glimpse of the view to come: from maybe halfway up the mountain, but still worthy of a photo. I stopped briefly for the snap, but my energy increased as I realized more that the victory of the mountaintop view was going to be sweet!

Sweat was now pouring off my brow and down the sides of my torso. The clearing provided a view, but it also provided direct sun. The road revealed a few villas for which it must have been built. A man was watering his garden, full of roses. Vines of gardenias (I think) grew on the fence, providing complete privacy for what I assume was a pool. “Buon giorno!” I said, hoping I wouldn’t startle him as I passed.

Half a mile later, I heard a nerve-shattering noise: a dog barking. I don’t mean the yapping of the little dogs I am used to in the North Carolina neighborhood; I mean blood curdling, guard-dog, trained-to-kill kind of barking. (Funny how my imagination grew!).

“I should probably turn back. My children need a mother. This is not worth the risk.”

This past Sunday’s sermon came to mind.  Ironically, my son Nathaniel (12) had volunteered to do a sermon for our family worship, since the Internet would not allow webcast from NC as planned.  He had chosen 1Samuel 17: David and Goliath. My young boy read the story and expounded with analogies that made it come alive. I saw his heart shine, relating to young David’s bravery.

“The other people had a cup full of fear,” he said as he lifted his own drinking cup in display, “but David had a cup full of faith!” He continued to teach us that the Philistines (Goliath’s “team”) ran away from the Israelites (David’s “team”), not because a stone had killed Goliath, but because they knew there was faith in a powerful God behind that stone.

I picked up a large stone on the road. “No, my accuracy would not be good with a large stone; a small stone and faith will do, right?”

The dog saw me before I saw him; I could tell because his bark turned from “communication” (as if telling his owner he had heard something) to a ferocious snarling, saliva-dripping “warning if you take one more step” kind of bark. The german shepherd looked three times the size of any of its type I had seen in the past. Clearly from an episode of “Cops,” it bared its teeth as if full of wrath.  A 3-foot fence was between the dog and me. Was it a joke? The dog could vault that in a heartbeat. This house, high in the mountains clearly had a guard dog.

“Cup full of faith. Cup full of faith.” I tried to calm myself, avoiding eye contact with the dog as I walked, trying to remember if that was the right thing to do.

I clutched the stone in my hand, but I think my edgy nerves had removed my ability to throw it.

“I wonder if ‘find my iPhone’ would work here, so Chris can locate my body once this dog is done with me.”

“Cup full of faith!” I argued back with myself in silence.

Phew! I made it. Another hairpin turn past the dog’s house, and I was facing directly UP. My thighs burned as if climbing a ladder.

Maybe ¾ of the way up the mountain, and the view was still worthy of a photo. As glorious as it was, it sincerely gave me energy to climb further. I wanted the TOP! I paused for a photo and a breath, then continued.

Scampering noises on both sides of the desert-like conditions haunted me as I climbed.  At one point, the rustling stayed longer than usual, so I stopped to peer into the deep, dry grass on the side to find the source of the sound. A tortoise was making its way. Its “scurry” was more like a labored stroll.

I looked straight ahead, straight up, and surely, it was the top. I feared I would crest that walk and it would only reveal more mountain, yet the olive grove I had pictured from my villa below, was now below me, so I knew I must be close. The pavement disappeared into gravel.

As I stared at Cortona, I recognized the angle from which I viewed. “I have been here before!” I thought. My heart raced as I scanned the land

around me for something familiar – and there it was: the ancient church to which Chris and I had climbed from the other villa! I had just climbed the other side of the same mountain! Ha! The view was everything I had remembered! I couldn’t wait to get back and tell Chris and the kids…and bring them along. (aside: But we would have to avoid the “killer sheep” at the church. I will save that story for the way my husband tells it in A Month of Italy where you will surely enjoy laughing AT me. (He did ask my permission-LOL!))

I snapped pictures (above) and video (below) to remember the victory, although no camera can capture a true panoramic view along with the personal victory-  of the wolves that battled inside of me, the “snakes” I had avoided, the itching I had overcome, or the dog that was held back by my faith shield. (Smile.)

The morning’s hour was parallel to any victory that awaits. The “mountain” may be a high goal of achievement in business or athletics; a climb to overcome personal issues; or a goal to become a better person, a better parent, a better wife, or leave a past behind. {Feel free to attach a comment of what your mountain is, or what the first photograph you take (victory along the way) will look like.}

The principles remain the same:

–       Sometimes you start climbing more because of something you don’t want than something you do want. (I didn’t want to look like a gnocchi.)

–       The dream beckons when we focus on it. (The Tuscan view called me.)

–       Many times the snakes are more afraid of us than we need to be of them. (or they are tortoises waiting to be passed.)

–       Stopping for photographs gives a good catch of breath, as well as a needed reminder that although the climb is hard, God has gifts for us along the way. We are not in the place where we started.  (1/2 way views are better than ground-level views. I like strawberries and tortoises too. 🙂 )

–       Taking a road to the top that has been paved by others makes your legs less itchy.

–       Bringing along your iPhone is great for photos and videos. (not worrying that your husband will need to find you. 🙂 )

–       Once victorious, sharing with others becomes a passion.  When God gives you a victory, you truly can’t wait for others to come along to experience it.

May God bless you with a reason to climb, and a will and way to do it!

Phil 2:13: “For it is God who works in you to will and to act according to His good purpose.”

Good things come to those who climb!

con amore da Italia, che Dio ti benedica,

Terri Brady