Blue Ridge Mountains

Sitting in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, I can't help but feel small. My favorite hike ends with a rock formation, jutting off of the side of the mountain. (It's what is in the picture) It is a magnificent view that, despite the pictures I take, can never be accurately captured or conveyed.

Life has been frustrating lately. It's as if no matter how much I write, I can't convey my thoughts. The words coming from my mouth aren't coming from my heart. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get enough oxygen.

And yet, here I sit in the Virginia breeze, with the sun on my face, working on my Chaco tan, and my sigh works. It's finally enough and I have caught my breath. The thoughts come effortlessly and the words flow eloquently across the page.

I could sit here forever. I could sit and stare at the view until my time was up. On this mountain, joy and peace seem attainable. As I lean back on the "rock chair", God is so real. I can't take in the view here and not believe. It would be impossible to look at this and not believe in a Creator who longs to woo our hearts.

It makes the walk down the mountain to the car so debilitating. With each step I feel the burdens pile back on. As much as the walk up was exhausting, because it is exhausting to climb a mountain, my load seemed to get lighter with each step. And the walk down does the opposite, which brings dread when you know you have to leave. Because who wants to walk away from a mountaintop?

Maybe that's why they call spiritual highs mountaintop experiences. Because up here, He's so obvious. Life is so peaceful and following Him makes so much sense. Makes me wonder why I ever chose to move away from these mountains.