“The mountains are calling, and I must go”. John Muir and I share the same hearing range . . . mountain range.
Stretching to the sky, a mere couple miles away across Fish Lake as the raven flies, Castle Mountain called today.
For this flightless ole duffer it’s a 10 mile trek featuring a washed out mining road rift with ATV devouring gullies; crossing a five-star mosquito resort infested swamp; and scrambling along an ever upward trail to finally emerge above tree line . . . worth every aching grunt, challenging step, pair of wet socks, and itchy mosquito bite.
It’s the ultimate Covid-19 social distancing therapy, and no need to mask-up. There were only three people on the mountain . . . Me, Myself and I. And, as with all my mountaintop adventures, Dad was there too . . . always is.
It’s where we talk, and I listen.
It’s where love lives, and judgement dies.
It’s where future optimism buries past pessimism.
It’s where hope prevails, and worries fade.
It’s where calm replaces chaos, and protest morphs into peace.
It’s where alpine blooms and bird songs lift my spirits.
It’s where mountain breezes dry my tears.
And, it’s where He shows me glimpses of eternity, gently assuring me . . . the best is yet to come.
Here’s a few of those glimpses.
“Give all your cares and worries to God, for He cares about you.” – Peter5:7
I M Blessed! . . . May U B 2 +
Keep Looking Up
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