The End of Adera Canyon Trail--Or Not?

 The clinic here makes a big deal about keeping moving through cancer. You do not become anything near a couch potato here! You are kept hopping! Because movement is bad for cancer.

And a big deal is made about getting out in nature--because nature is healing.

Especially when you walk in it barefoot and look for beauty.  

So even in Arizona, 

even when the temperatures are way up above 100, even 110 to 118 many days since we came, we get up early and go for a walk.

I think there was only one morning that I was too weak to go for a walk.  Finding new places to walk makes it fun.  

Although most mornings I only have time to walk the thirty minutes around our complex before leaving for the clinic about 7:30 or 8, there are many trails in the area as well. Especially on Saturday or Sunday we often drive a mile or two or more and find a new trail.

Last Sunday Rose and I drove 7 miles about 5:30 in the morning to walk Adera Canyon Trail at sunrise! 

It was breathtaking!

The spot at Adera Canyon trail actually had several trails that went every which direction. We took Easy Access Trail along the way, and then Overlook Trail, which after a while came to an end.

"I guess it's the end of the trail," I said, disappointed. 

It had been such a fun time, in the cool of the very early morning when I had felt enough energy to walk.

I plodded forward a few feet, thinking to rest a while at the end of the trail... 

 only to discover that the trail did not end after all!

Behind the big rocks, the path turned to a sharp left, and went on!

I stood there with just one thing on my mind.

My cancer.

And the end of the trail for me.   

At some points I have been resigned that if God has a higher purpose for me than to continue living on this earth, it's okay with me.

But what if what I thought might be the end of the road, was just a radical turn in my journey?

What if my path goes on, through this rocky spot, and on for a while longer?

On the way down the trail, we paused to watch a gentle dove which had lit on a branch of a thorny bush. Usually doves are skittish and won't allow a person nearby. But this one just stayed there, quietly perched, like a dove of hope, 

silouetted against an Arizona blue sky.

Like it was just wanting to symbolize hope to a lady with cancer who had wondered if this was the end of the trail for her.

Or not!