When I was a teen I lived on the southern edge of the Great Plains and dreamed of mountains. I needed a place of rest, beauty, and refreshment, a break from high school, homework, the dish washing job, and the usual teenage turmoil. The land was pool table flat except for a slight ridge rising up from the creek flowing not far from our house.
Standing alone at the top of the ridge was a tall cedar tree, its topmost branches curved into a kind of crow’s nest. Often on Fridays after school, I would climb the tree and perch in the crow’s nest. There I felt comfort and calm flow into me after the rigors of the week.
It was my high place. I’m blessed now to live near mountains, and I sense that same comfort and calm when I view them from the back porch or go up into their cool and fragrant heights. More that that, I see God’s beauty reflected in them.
I feel all will be well and that along with the Psalmist “...
the Lord is the great God/...
whose hands hold the depths of the earth;/ who owns the tops of the mountains” (New American Bible Ps. 95 3-4). I’m struck by God’s generosity and love in creating such wonders for us.
Along with the beauty is awe and majesty. Some views make me feel I might go flying off at any moment, my stomach flip-flopping along drop-offs on switchbacks up the mountain, and during monsoon seeing blue, yellow, and pink lightning slashing across the skies. This is when “.
..God’s voice thunders and the earth trembles” (NAB Ps.
46 7). Duri.
