Drawing a Fresh Breath

One sees great things from the valley,
only small things from the peak.
~G.K.Chesterton

Two things are yours that no man’s wealth can buy:
The air, and time;
And, having these, all fate you may defy,
All summits climb.

While you can draw the fresh and vital breath,
And own the day,
No enemy, not Hate, nor Fear, nor Death,
May bring dismay.

Breathe deeply! Use the minutes as they fly!
Trust God in all!
Thus will you live the life that cannot die,
Nor ever fall.

~Amos Russel Wells “Inalienable”

It is all a matter of perspective-
what we see from where we are standing,
whether on the peak or down in the valley.

We need to breathe deeply of this time,
wherever we are.

it takes great strength and determination to climb a peak,
looking down upon the valley left far below
where even mighty mountains seem diminished.

Yet what gives our lives most meaning,
what encourages our faith,
what instills our hope,
is how we are met by the Lord
in the deepest of valleys.

He dwells alongside us,
watching over us,
never leaving us,
always encouraging us
to lift our eyes to the hills

to gaze at His dream-like peaks above.

photo from the summit of Mt. Baker by Josh Scholten
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Breadth and Depth

 

artistpoint4

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artistpoint6

Autumn is the eternal corrective. 
It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity;
but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. 
What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop
and fail to see the span of this world
and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?
~Hal Borland

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artistpoint2

Summer, waning and wistful, has packed up and moved on without bidding adieu or looking back over its shoulder.  Cooling winds have carried in darkening clouds spewing long overdue rain. Though we need a good drenching there are still onions and potatoes to pull from the ground, apples to harvest, tomatoes not yet ripened, corn cobs just too skinny to pick.

I’m not ready to wave goodbye to sun-soaked clear skies and the lush richness of summer.

The overhead overcast is heavily burdened with clues of what is to come: earlier dusk, the feel of moisture-filled air, the deepening graying hues, the briskness of breezes.  There is no negotiation possible.   I steel myself and get ready, wrapping myself in the soft shawl of inevitability.

So autumn advances with the clouds, taking up residence where summer has left off.  Though there is still clean up of the overabundance left behind, autumn has brought its own unique plans for display of a delicious palette of hues. It is an eternal corrective for what ails us.

The truth is we’ve seen nothing yet.

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artistpoint5

Visions of Mountains

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He found himself wondering at times, especially in the Autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams. He began to say to himself ‘Perhaps I shall cross the river myself one day.’ To which the other half of his mind always replied ‘Not yet.’

~J.R.R. Tolkien — Frodo in Fellowship of the Rings

artistpoint8

When you live in Whatcom County, as we do, it is possible to cross the river (several times) over 90 minutes of two lane highway switchbacks to arrive in these wild lands, breathless and overcome by majesty.

Visions of mountains from our dreams become an overwhelming 360 degree reality.

God touches every square inch of earth as if He owns the place, and He does, but these square inches are particularly marked by His artistry.  It is a place to feel awed by His magnificence.

As we crossed the river to return home last night, I was left to wonder, much like Tolkien’s Frodo pondering of wild land dreams, what bridges God is building to bring us back home to Him.

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(these are photos I took yesterday of Mt. Shuksan from Heather Meadows and Picture Lake, as well as Mt. Baker and Table Mountain from Artist Point)