Shasta // 6.18.16

I turned over my shoulder to look behind me at the miles and miles and miles of forest and rolling hills and cities in the distance, to find that they'd become nothing more than mere specks under the sky. And then I turned back around and looked before me at the mountain, and over the cliff-faces looking down upon me, on what appeared to be mountains upon a mountain- with cliffs upon its cliffs, and raging canyons and sneering ridges, too, stacked upon themselves atop this seemingly endless mass of rising rock and formation of land. In awe and wonder, I felt so infinitely small and weak.

     And then it hit me. From the emptiness in my legs to the pull of the darkness and fatigue calling out to me, begging for me to collapse and close my eyes in rest, if but only for a second- I could feel it. The reality that the Maker and Mover of everything I was standing upon and everything I now looked over, and everything I've climbed today and had still yet to climb, is with me. Every day. And every step. And that He is infinitely more fierce and more peaceful than I'd ever imagined.

     For though my body was screaming, and the mountain raging, and the canyons roaring, everything was quiet, and everything was pure. Exactly like the Maker of everything I see, and the Father who forever walks beside me, with me, until my end. And then I realized, though I am small and weak, I have nothing, ever, to fear. For what is fear when we truly know who walks beside us... the Maker of the seas and the Mover of Mountains; He is the one we call Abba. He is the one we call Father. And He is with us both now and forever more, until the end...

Oh, what a creation he has made, and to think- I have seen only the beginning.