So the mountain-climbing that I have been doing with my boys and
girls stands out like a cameo in my retrospective view. Sometimes we
looked back toward the valley, and it seemed so peaceful and
beautiful that it caused the mountain before us to seem ominous. At
such times, when courage seemed to be oozing, we needed to reinforce
one another with words of cheer. The steep places seemed perilously
rough at times, and I could hear a stifled sob somewhere in my little
company. At such times I would urge myself along at a more rapid
pace, that I might reach a higher level and call out to them in
heartening tones to hurry on up to our resting-place. We would often
sing a bit in the midst of our resting, and when the sob had been
changed to a laugh I felt that life was well worth while.
As we toiled upward I was ever on the lookout for a patch of sunlight
in the midst of the shadows that it might lure them on. And it never
failed. Like magic that sun-spot always quickened their pace, and
they often hailed it with a shout.
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