I feel like I can’t start a post without some irksome disclaimer anymore. There’s always a backstory to the story, or a point to be made before the point to be made. Oh, well — if you are among those that continue to read these babble pages then I salute you for your patience, because if it’s starting to get irritating for the writer to introduce every post with an excuse, I can’t imagine what it feels like for the reader to constantly be thrown in the face with it.
Anyways, after that preface for the preface (I am all over the place!), I will now unnecessarily expound scriptures on my adventures. Of course, by adventures one would quickly imagine something like hiking in exotic scenery then being attacked by a magical wild unicorn then overcoming that obstacle by taming it and flying to freedom with a fist in the air and a single tear rolling down the cheek in triumph. Sadly, my take on the definition of adventure is a little less action based. Okay — it’s not action based at all. Okay fine it’s not even an adventure! Okay, I will stop now.
I already wrote a post for today. And it was brilliant, not going to lie to you. I intertwined diverse elements of depth and had varying levels of emotion, but I was relying on unreliable airport internet connection and the unspeakable happened. I lost the post. All of it. All of the fantastic palpable poetry. Kidding, but wow, it was among the worst of feelings — working for a goal and awaiting it’s reward then watching it dissipate into oblivion and having nothing to do about it.
Anyways, the post was about how when I was leaving to the airport today, I watched the mountains zoom past me. I wrote about how I pretended to listen to it whilst it saluted the skies, and how I had heard the skies blush in enthralment at the compliments. I wanted to babble a little more about how lovely the strokes of white and blue in the sky fell with the texture of the rocks, and how color is an enormous blessing.
But then I went on and talked about how unfathomable it was for us to imagine our earth racing in our solar system in our galaxy in our galaxy cluster in God knows what else is out there, racing towards an end only known to Him. Then I talked about how stability was a gargantuan blessing. How we are aware of our movement that our eyes can’t see, and we remain on this planet still, stable and in control. What a blessing! What a gift. And this gift is only really recognized when we are aware of the judgment promised. When we fill our small minds with the big words of irrationality. When we understand that these mountains that emanate security and strength have been promised. That like oil one day these solids will spill — and there will be no disobeying.
I’m scared of that day.
And so, when I watched the mountains today and saw that they were still standing like soldiers awaiting their orders — when I listened to the voices of these mouthless creatures praising and swaying with their Creator, my heart fell into its assigned portion of the body in repose because it felt safe.
“There is still time,” my heart told me.
I nodded smiling slightly, but with anxiety slowly simmering in the background, “Yes, there is still time.”
The title of this post was first The Saluted Sky, but after completing this summed up version of it now, I think the title I have given it is more suitable. I think this title speaks to the core of the post, or at least to what I wanted to get out of it. I understood a lot about why I feel the way I do about mountains when I wrote this today. I realized that I am in love with their stability as I careen away in an unstable universe sprinting into the attraction object that we won’t know about until we get to it. This post helped me be grateful.
Sorry that this was a little all over the place, I really wish I could recover my old post but it’s totally gone. All for the better, with the will of God!
endnote: this feature photo is my own photography