I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
Ps. 121:1-2
I sit here on a familiar sofa staring out a picture window at a long-lost view: the rugged Andes mountains hemmed at their base by a crowded city nestled in a long valley. I love watching the changing clouds and weather. A day that begins with bright sunshine and blue skies can suddenly offer a hailstorm and end with a flourish of pink sunset behind gray clouds, as was the case two days ago.
I wish I could explain even to myself why coming to a place so dear and familiar also feels painful. Is it that suddenly the landscape of my heart is in sync with what I see around me, but I know it won't last? Or perhaps there are memories to be rekindled and dealt with. Maybe it's just weird because I am back in a place that cradled and raised me before sending me off into the world; it has remained the same (to a degree), but I have changed. We must take each other's measurements anew, me and this country of mine.
One thing that doesn't change--the mountains. They speak to me of majesty and the untouchable wildness present in this creation. They draw my thoughts to the Creator and make explosions of color and joy go off in the wordless realms of my mind.
Your love, LORD, reaches to the heavens,
your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the highest mountains,
your justice like the great deep.
You, LORD, preserve both people and animals.
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
Ps. 36:5-7
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
Ps. 121:1-2
I sit here on a familiar sofa staring out a picture window at a long-lost view: the rugged Andes mountains hemmed at their base by a crowded city nestled in a long valley. I love watching the changing clouds and weather. A day that begins with bright sunshine and blue skies can suddenly offer a hailstorm and end with a flourish of pink sunset behind gray clouds, as was the case two days ago.
I wish I could explain even to myself why coming to a place so dear and familiar also feels painful. Is it that suddenly the landscape of my heart is in sync with what I see around me, but I know it won't last? Or perhaps there are memories to be rekindled and dealt with. Maybe it's just weird because I am back in a place that cradled and raised me before sending me off into the world; it has remained the same (to a degree), but I have changed. We must take each other's measurements anew, me and this country of mine.
One thing that doesn't change--the mountains. They speak to me of majesty and the untouchable wildness present in this creation. They draw my thoughts to the Creator and make explosions of color and joy go off in the wordless realms of my mind.
Your love, LORD, reaches to the heavens,
your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the highest mountains,
your justice like the great deep.
You, LORD, preserve both people and animals.
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
Ps. 36:5-7
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