And they bring out the metaphorical cheeeeese in me. I want to run, skip and jump, photograph and capture this massive landscape by camera, since I clearly can't take it home with me (shucks). I could have sat up top on mammoth mountain for the whole day and I would have been perfectly content. My mind muses and ponders and mulls over EVERYTHING when I'm out of doors. Maybe it's the elevation, or the quiet, the wind or the never-ending expansive landscape surrounding me. I find a peace there that is comparable to none. Less stress and no worry, just the steadiness of the dirt underneath my shoes.
Wasn't it Elijah who was waiting to hear God's voice? And an earthquake boomed and hurricane winds swirled strong and a fire blazed hot, but God was heard in a still small voice. Maybe I'm stretching this parallel, but I think God is heard and felt in the great outdoors. While sometimes the loud, attention grabbing things, like the hurricanes, fires and earthquakes for Elijah, distract us, the still small voice is ever present. It's a matter of seeking the place where you can hear it.
The mountains sing a song only my heart can hear.
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