Being one of the nine Great Walks in New Zealand, Tongariro mounted up another form of overcoming today.
I decided to pick a bouquet of flowers at the bottom of the mountain to take up to the summit in honor of my mom. I did this because I wanted a piece of her to hold on to (as she did love gardening), I wanted her to be as close as possible to me- little did I know the symbolism and impact they would take on. As the hike went on, many asked why I was holding flowers so I was able to share my beautiful mother’s story. Not to mention the absolutely breathtaking panorama at the summit, my most favorite part was planting her flowers in the arid volcanic sand. I stood about 5 yards away and watched as people would notice the burst of color among the sunburned rocks and gasp in awe at its beauty as they nudged all of their friends to share in its magnificence. They would take the time to get on their knees and capture it in all of its glory with the backdrop of New Zealand’s rolling landscape and pristine blue lakes.
That’s exactly what my mother was (and now continues to be to me and to people who have never even met her). She brings a story of hope to the world, color to the dullness, a smile to the stranger, worship in the desert, and beauty from the ashes. Give Jesus a hug for me, mommy.