Yesterday’s wanderings

Some days, looking out and seeing the mountains rising into the sky, I get the urge to wander. Initially, when I moved here, the feeling was very strong. There was one Sunday, after church, where I pointed Fred at the mountains and kept driving. I wanted to get to the top of the highest peak that I saw in the distance. That day I drove and drove until I actually ran out of the paved road that I was on. As I drove off of the pavement onto the gravel suddenly I felt the urge to run away melt from my heart. I could no longer see the farthest peak because I was at the base of the one ahead of me. I pulled over and sat there looking up into the trees. I could see the rock that the mountain was made of and the rivulets of water coming down one side and realized that there was no hurry. 

Yesterday, when the wanderlust hit me it was not to the mountains that I ran. Instead wandering is what I did and came upon this truck. I had to stop and take a picture and cry some tears for it. Silly I know but I couldn’t help but identify with it. Stopped in a field beside a little freshet and covered in moss I imagined that it had a destination at one point but either got lost or tired of the trying. That’s how I feel my life has been trending lately. Many days I wake up lost and tired of trying but each day I also wake more resolved to be found and to put my back into living.

 Yesterday the mountains seemed disinclined to be seen. All day they loomed above the horizon, a silent reminder of their grandeur and presence. I am happy to report that their call has been tempered by the knowledge that, though peace may be found in their peaks a reason to go on with life won’t be. That can only be discovered here among those whose lives entwine with mine and who rely on me to be here for them.