Mountains sound good.

I look up to the mountains— does my help come from there? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth! He will not let you stumble; the one who watches over you will not slumber. Indeed, he who watches over Israel never slumbers or sleeps. The Lord himself watches over you! The Lord stands beside you as your protective shade. The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon at night. The Lord keeps you from all harm and watches over your life. The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever. (Psalms 121:1-8 NLT)

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It’s clouding today. Making me long for the crisp cool of the air of home… Crisp, cool, sweet autumn air of Central Oregon. As I sit here daydreaming of home, I long to be in the mountains, or at the beach or next to a lake camping. Fixing dinner outside, the smell of the campfire, the sound of water close by rippling, just crisp enough to need a soft pilly sweatshirt. The kind you reserve for these types of moments and are perfectly acceptable on an adventure, but never for around town.

There is something in my spirit that longs for the simpleness and tranquility of being surrounded by Gods creation in full ripeness.

I grew up camping and fishing, playing in streams, swimming across little lakes and tossing polliwogs at each other almost every weekend. I loved the adventures my parents provided for us and even through the teenage complaints of having to load and unload the camping equipment, which evidentially turned into an RV, I looked forward to the time of family and fun we would have as our tribe traveled down the road to the next grand spot.

This season of life does not seem to lend itself to camping or much exploring, the smell of loamy soil under giant pines or the taste of fresh caught trout cooked for breakfast with eggs and potatoes, waterskiing at dawn and campfires.

These days are filled with the sounds of water stirred as a precious child emerges after baptism, the smell of sweet surrender and sometimes the heartache of painful choices. The view today isn’t of a lake or the ocean at dusk, but the silhouette of students huddled into every crook and cranny on cement floors to sneak a few minutes to talk and pray. These are amazing days filled with what my friend Anne would call “God-Dots” and I love every single minute of these days.

It’s also filled the reality of vixing vehicles and leaky roofs, budgets that need miracle growth hormone, groceries that need bought, dogs that need grooming, floors that need mopped and relationships that need attention.

It’s easy to allow the focus of days like these, when tired bodies lead to weak minds and chores feel like chaos, on the struggle and delight in the thought of escaping. But there is a place that God has placed deep within me that reminds me, soothes me and revives me like drinking from a clear mountain stream. Where does my help come from? From the mountains, no. From a tent or sand filled toes? No. It comes from Him. He will not let me stumble, he stands beside me, he protects and provides for me. My helps come from The Lord.

Hmmmm…That’s good, just like a nice warm camp fire and a soft fuzzy sweatshirt.

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About Cindy Fiala

Consultant, Pastor, Wife, Mom, Marme, Knitter, Runner, Laugher, Dance-in-the-Kitchener. Lover of Jesus and lover of life.
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