Mountains of Promises

Dedicated to Alma Carrillo, a sweet friend, and my favorite chica, who passed away last night. 

I breathe in deeply, the cool air that I grew up trusting to fill my lungs and supply my limbs, fingers, and toes with the oxygen they craved. The breeze passes, ebbing and flowing, whispering to my soul and tangling thick, dirty hair. Somehow, I trust more here. I stand and don't fear to have my eyes closed, I don't fear to get close to the edge, I trust. When I open, the mountains roll out before me. I hate to blink, to think I might miss a moment of whats before me. My mind wants more. My eyes see their vastness and beauty yet I know my eyes don't even do them justice. Peace and frustration fill me. It's like when you take a picture at the beach of the incredible sunset spread out before you, and then you look down at your iphone, disappointed at how uncool it looks on your screen. I feel the same here, standing on a mountain. I know my eyes don't see all there is to see, I get a sense I'm being cheated. And yet... It's still incredible.  I can't not look, search for more. Someone taps me on the shoulder and offers a peach. It's dad. I smile and bite, turning to look back out, hoping the glance away will somehow give me the break I needed that I might understand the mountains more. There has to be a creator. Someone big enough to build up something this perfect, this close, this distant, this refreshing. I realize when I get frustrated that I can't see it all, it's because I actually can't see it all. It's but a shadow of my Father. It's but a glimpse of the glory my soul longs to know and to see. I sit, I long for more yet settle for the glory before me. I don't just settle, I marvel at what I know, and trust that what I can't see, I can't see because it isn't time. I trust that the glory i long for will soon be revealed. So I sit. I sit and rest from the climb to the top. I sit and embody humility because the mountains before me make me realize my size, my frailty, and I am grateful for the beauty I do see. And I marvel at what I do know.

I grew up in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and am fully convinced that The Lord used moments like this in my childhood to prepare me for adulthood. I can't quite explain what the mountains do for my soul, but as I sat before the Lord this morning, I was brought to this scripture:

"O LORD, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me."

Psalm 131:1

I was reminded of the days I hiked the mountains with my dad. I used to see the way my dad would be in awe of the landscape before him, despite climbing that mountain hundreds of times before. He taught me not to look for a moment, but to really look. To keep looking. And as I learned these things from my daddy, I grew to know my Heavenly Father. The longer I would look out, I longed to know how the mountains were made so beautiful, I began wondering about all the animals that lived among the multi-colored trees, and the activity below the trees, from mountain to mountain. I wanted to know, but only my Father knows. 

I find myself here now. No, not on the top of a mountain, wondering what the animals are doing, or guessing the number of miles I could see before me, and the miles that were beyond my eyes. I am here now wanting to know things that are too marvelous for me. I want to know exact times, plans, if desires will be fulfilled, and great things that are not for me to know right now. I'm stubborn. But I am learning that I have to sit, just as I always do on the top of a mountain; I have to sit and marvel at what I do know. I can long to see the future glory, but I can not demand it now. I must humble myself as David did, see the great things before me and trust my God. What is great and marvelous now? The promises that God gives me. They aren't too great for me to ponder. So I tell myself what I know, I trust in the powerful God who sustains, and who is a very present help in time of need (Psalm 46:1).

Me and dad circa 2009 Mt. Pisgah