The truck pulled up, and I thought – “There is no earthly way.”  Dad had brought over a trailer loaded with trees to help screen off the farmhouse for more privacy.  The thing was that he had brought neither people nor equipment to unload said trees.

The tumble and jumble of my new hollys.

But when someone gives you a gift you need, you figure out how to make it work. 

So Dad dropped a steel ramp by the back of the trailer and rolled the trees to me – each one weighing about 100 pounds.  My job was to just steer them and keep them from rolling way down the hill.

Roll, grab, shift weight to my thighs, roll the tree down my legs to the ground while keeping it from taking off down the mountain.

We did this 25 or 30 times. (I stopped counting – that seemed wise.)  All the trees are unloaded. Ready to plant with a two-person augur on Friday.  I don’t know how I’ll do that either, but I’ll find a way.

In her book Walking on Water, Madeline L’Engle talks about probable impossibles – the things we begin to believe we can’t do but that we can . . . if we have faith.  Like walking on water.  Nothing is impossible. Not a thing.

Sometimes, the next stage of the journey seems impossible.  But life has taught me that if it’s on my path, then I can get over it, past it, or through it – without question.  I may be sore and bruised. But I can do it. Every time.

What is on your path that seems impossible?   What can I do to support you as you get through it?