The deepest part of the ocean is in Mariana Trench, in the Pacific. Water stretches thick and dense and cold down down doooown farther than seven miles, to the bottom of Challenger Deep.
Mount Everest is the highest place on our white, snowy earth. If you climbed the seven miles up from the rich blue deeps to sea level, you’d have five and a half miles of upness left before you could reach the tippy top of this planet. That’s twelve and a half miles of surface variation. Seven miles of water – that life-giving element featured so copiously in the Bible. Seven miles of air – designed to refresh us and keep us alive – reach into the very depths of us and cleanse out the mustiness.
There are 2 hours, 11 corners, a cup of coffee and a crooked telephone pole between one of my besties and I.
There are a thousand steps – give or take – between here and The Corner, where I spend the afternoons and arguments and walks and dreams and sweat and happy of my childhood.
There is a life between me and heaven.
There are 60 minutes of potential speeding tickets between me and my sister.
There is a mountain range of warmth, cocoa and books between the all-frozed-up backyard and I.
There is prayer between victims of sexual abuse and human trafficking, and freedom.
Miles of prayer. Miles and miles. Depths. Heights. Corners and telephone poles and roads and everything. Miles and miles of prayer just waiting to happen for these girls.
In twenty-one days, I will turn twenty-one on January twenty-first.
Two and One. They’re wee little numbers we use when we blast things off and count down weddings and reach for Christmas and expect jolly, fussy, poopy, giggly little babies.
That’s what I want. Zero. Sure, that can mean for my birthday. But I want zero slaves. I want zero people sexually abused in this world. I want zero girls to cry and lock their bedroom doors at night. I want zero girls to stare numbly at the walls that trap them in torturous slavery; to smile trustingly at potential suitors, at neighbors and people promising jobs; to tremble on the witness stand and tell awful, embarrassing details; to curl up and not tell; to be afraid of trust.
I want it gone.
I can’t do it all. I can’t take all these sweet girls to my trampoline on a starry night and give them cocoa and point out the milky way and lick frothy mustaches and laugh. I can’t raid every trap and brothel and rescue every girl. I can’t erase every faulty court ruling and reverse each victim mentality and hold each one close to me. I can’t pull them all onto the couch for a flick, or rub their backs or hold their hands. I can’t give them back everything they once had, or even the things they’ve never had.
But I can try.
They say one can make a difference. Let’s prove them right. Make a difference with me this year.
Let’s turn my twenty-one days and years into miles. Let’s put a mile in for these sweeties each and every day. I don’t care where you live or how you do it. Jog a mile. Walk a mile. Cry a mile, surf a mile, bike, crawl, swim, scrub, whatever. Take a mile with me. Do it today. Do it again tomorrow. Do it again the next day and the next day and all the next days for twenty-one days.
Challenger Deep: the dark bottom – the farthest reach of water. Let’s be challenged, and let’s be challengers. Be deep. Twenty-one miles of deep and challenge.
Some of you will say it’s a good idea! Seriously though, I need this, because hashtag christmas goodies, laugh out loud.
Some of you will not want to visibly point to you knees and the and achiness thereof. Oh honey, it’s ok. Sit a mile, then. Just make sure you pray it. Because God isn’t looking for you to be in the best shape of your life. He and I, we don’t care really that you’re putting in all that workout time. Do what you can. But pray it. Turn off your music. Take the ear buds out. Tell your walking buddy what’s up. Do the dishes by yourself tonight. Anything.
But pray a mile today. Pray a mile tomorrow. Until;