The Mountains Are Calling Me

Here it is only March 1 and already the mountains are calling to me. Just this week after a rainstorm, the clouds cleared away and to the east a panorama of the Sierra Nevada appeared out of the often clouded skyline. I tried to catch glimpses of these beautiful mountains while I drove hurriedly on errands. Seeing each new vista was like drawing fresh breath from an open window. Envigorating and renewing. I am drawn to the mountains. My heart yearns with a real ache to go "home" where there are grand peaks, gracious meadows woven with crystal streams and quiet hidden granite canyons. There I feel peace and a sense of residence as if my soul simply belongs there. Over the years I and my family have been able to spend many wonderful days in the mountains. Good times filled with simple pursuits. Reconnecting with one another and fortifying the bonds of love that sometimes become frayed in the busyness of daily homelife. In the mountains we were free to be silly, silent, somber. To experience the grandeur of this world the Lord created and inhale the spirit of its beauty. At night when the campfire was lit, we told our stories, sung our songs, and sometimes flamed our marshmallows into Olympic torches. On some clear summer nights we could lie back and see the Milky Way sweep across the curve of dark sky. And I would feel so small. We would eventually gather together and settle in for the night. After the rustle of sleeping bags and the hurried last minute whispers of the children, there was quiet. I would sit near the campfire, warmed by the flickering coals as they burned down for the night and simply be.

Soon the days will lengthen and the summer heat will come to our valley. I know the mountains will be there for me, cool, refreshing and welcoming me home.