My mountain top

Mountains and mountain tops have become intensely significant for me emotionally since I lost my beautiful lady.

Preachers often talk about mountain top experiences--meaning it to be a time and place of joy and peace and a sense of the presence of God.

I see it differently. My mountain top experience occurred January 17, 2018. That's the day Faye died.

Take a look at the mountain top--what do you see but rock, ice and snow. You can't actually see it, but it is also an almost airless place of intense cold. That's where I felt I had landed that day--I was in a place of rock, ice, snow, and bitter cold--a place not meant for life. Survival for me was a matter of day by day, inch by inch. I was almost unable to breathe.

But slowly, ever so slowly, my perspective is changing. People who have survived wilderness experiences talk about getting a glimpse of heaven from a seat in hell. The wilderness, even when it seems it might take your life has a certain fierce beauty. In ways I find difficult to fully articulate I can testify to this. I see life differently now. And I can see beauty again.

In my times of prayer and meditation I can sense God telling me to embrace life again, and, even, to embrace this mountain.

It is becoming a mountain of God's holiness.

And I press on.