“Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.” (Psalm 90:2)
The Georgia mountains appeared as shadow-blue sand art with tinges of green and brown trees perched inside the glass bottle view. An ant meandered across the banister like a tight-rope walker suspended in mid-air and perfectly at home. I was too.
The captivating retreat house had earned a stellar reputation, and I agreed with the reviews moments after we plopped ourselves in the wooden rocking chairs on the charming deck. Serenity had eased itself in beside us.
Acres of green forest with layers of limbs, leafy branches, and toasty trunks occupied the entire horizon. As the thunder rumbled and the wind jostled the maple leaves, the scent of rain came fluttering across the porch. Each droplet washed sunlight off the trees and staged hip-hop moves on the wooden railing. The ant disappeared, and the storm became a full-blown concert that reverberated off the metal roof.
The next morning brought sounds of cheerful birds saluting the clear sky. A backdrop of wispy clouds scattered lint on the clear blue blanket. Stillness hung its hat on the porch, and I was invited to the performance of a common house spider boldly making its way across the floor boards like an explorer navigating unfamiliar territory.
We were tucked away with hours to fill with board games, treks to waterfalls, and icy-cold swirling rivers. Each tiny creature, scenic overpass, and skyline’s breathtaking view became a call to stop, to relish, to wonder. The landscape ahead, the time on hold, and his intricate world encircling us were all gifts of grace.
We discovered beauty with no billboards to interfere, peace with no divisions, calm like a comforter spread all around. Every delightful part was a brief taste of the brilliance yet to come, that God has already prepared for us, that we long for deeply but cannot know until the road turns and the journey takes us further in than we’ve ever been before.
Elizabeth A Mitchell
Photo Credit: Daniel Frank on Pexels
This was written so beautifully, Elizabeth.
Thank you Shan. I still miss you my friend