Mountains, mountains, mountains! With a hop, skip, and a jump (and a brief ride in a car) I can be in any ONE of SEVERAL canyons, enjoying a scenic display of Mother Nature.
The rugged and rocky terrain, the steep, jutted cliffs, the streams and waterfalls that carve white, ribbon-like paths down the mountain face, the smell of pine sap, the sound of river rapids, the cooler temperatures, and the closer I feel to God -- I love all of it!
I have always been surrounded by mountains -- living in pretty valleys while impressive and immovable peaks stood guard. I remember when my family moved to Arkansas for a couple of years. I was a young girl then, but still old enough to remember much of the experience. I distinctly recall my first glimpse of my new state after our plane had landed, and being taken aback by how flat the landscape was. I asked my daddy, "Where are the mountains?!"
I have found that something interesting happens to me while traversing mountain trails. I start to think about how small I am in a big, big world. But how significant I actually am, too. To God. I think about a higher power and how I see His hand in all things. His creative brilliance is captured in life's small details; delicate, purple wildflowers and fragrant pine needles.
I count my blessings. I smile at the chipmunks. I don't mind the wind in my hair. I turn my face to the sun. I think about my life. I pray for courage, to learn and to grow, and to be brave enough to summit the figurative "mountains" I'll face on my life's wondrous journey.
I know the trails may be dense and the slope may be rocky. Because life, like climbing, isn't easy. But I also know the view from the top will be worth it.
I think about climbing every mountain.