Our
Spiritual Health...
Mountains
by
Barbara Balkus
I lift up mine eyes unto the hills. From
whence cometh my strength? My strength comes from the
Lord.
I was 16 years old when I witnessed my
dying mother’s faith as she stood at her bedroom window
gazing at the mountains in the distance and spoke those
words. At the time I had no clue as to the significance
of the mountains in my own life, but then the mountains
of my youth were but foothills compared to my mountains
today.
Cool air, gray skies, foggy mornings,
shortened daylight hours, rain-soaked everything.
Autumn has come to the northwest again. For me, it is
the season of faith.
In the close view of things Fall speaks
to the finite. The summer spectacular of floral colors
draws to a close and the tender shoots wither before
they return to the earth. Trees don then doff their
finest garb before their winter sleep. Many critters
head to their dens for a long rest. The earth prepares
to die.
In the broader view, Fall speaks to the
infinite as the dying is only part of the cycle. What
sleeps will awaken, new and fresh and changed. Life
exists after death. The earth continues to spin on its
axis and orbit the sun.
But for me, Fall offers more than just
the finite and infinite. It offers to me, what I think
of as the mountains of faith.
Driving down the road in Summer, we see
the Olympic Mountains on one side and the Cascades on
the other; stately, ageless, their sheer size is awe
inspiring. But come Fall, starting in October and
usually lasting through mid-May, weeks, sometimes months
go by where the sky’s grey-white coloring blocks out
everything on the horizon. Everything seems stark and
cold and hopeless.
Suddenly, one day when it is least
expected, the clouds break ever so slightly and the
Olympic Mountains peek through; a new vision of hope.
Of course they are there; they’ve always been there;
they will always be there; faith.
We moved away for a few years and
returned in the season of overcast skies, and yet, I
knew those mountains would be there. But I still marvel
at their splendor and rejoice in the miraculous way they
suddenly, silently and magnificently appear just when I
need to see them most.
When my life gets rough and my world
shakes with doubt and uncertainty, I look for those
mountains in much the way my mother looked to her
mountains. Stately; Ageless; awe inspiring; built by no
mortal hands. Visible or not, they’ve become the
cornerstone of hope, gently reminding me: of course
God’s there; God’s always been there; God will always be
there; Faith.
