For the longer part of my life I have lived in the Midwest, but my childhood through early twenties I lived in the mountains out West. Because of the distance and, let’s be honest, for a long time, my finances, going back to the mountains was a once a year sojourn.
Even now, when I get that first glimpse of the mountains my spirit lifts. It’s not just their beauty and majesty. It’s also the memories and the experiences I’ve had there.
And then every time, I come back to the plains and valleys of the Midwest. Where I live. There’s nothing wrong with them. They have their own beauty. There is a rhythm and a regularity that comes from what is familiar.
It’s a bit like my spiritual life, except I don’t really get to plan when I’ll be on a mountain top. I do treasure those experiences of a deep-felt Presence of God. They are warm and calming and deeply felt and rare. Oh, I never question God’s Presence. I just am not always aware of it all the way to the core of my being. He doesn’t regularly tap me on the shoulder.
Rather I live my life in the valley where things can be regular and rhythmic and sometimes very mundane. Sometimes they are wild and crazy and difficult. Life happens and it distracts me and keeps me busy and involved. All that is good and normal and it’s where I partner with God in the work He’s invited me to do with Him.
It’s up to me to keep open eyes, unstopped ears, and a tender heart in order to recognize the Presence of God. To recognize that life is lived in the valleys and the plains of my walk with God.
And sometimes, sometimes, I visit the mountains.
Just Sayin' 