A Montana Journal, ca September 2020

 

I am here in these high places again. Me and Ol’ Black Tahoe, my trusted steed, have made way up the Lost Horse trail, above the clouds, and to the Twin Lakes. I am alone here this morning, but for the living things what surround me, the wild things what make their home here, and the One what created us all.


There is harmony in the stillness of this mountainous place. Wind and water and trembling leaves make no sound that does not fill a person but with comfort and calm. Once again gifts of His beauty are offered for me alone to behold. And so it come to mind that the caring spirit what guides all the worlds and deigns to direct even my lowly steps has been, and is still, more kind to me than I surely deserve.



And I wonder why that should be. I have heard that sweet and bitter water won’t be had from the same well. Yet my own living days would certain speak, and quite uncomfortably, contrary to that.


I have been the reckless author of many a harsh moment whilst making my way through life. Yet I have also calmed the fury. I have hurt lover with great cruelty, and loved stranger with great compassion. I have cut a soul with sharp word, and spoken softly to them that lay dying. I am, at times, the shame of humanity, and also, at times, its gentle emissary. How both can exist side by side in the one confounds me. And disappoints greater still.


So it seems, to this heart certain, that if the sweet and the bitter, the light and the dark, can spring so eagerly and equally from one human being, then so the favor of the Redeemer is revealed. And done so again and again in beauty, mercy and grace so undeserved. And perhaps true also for others such as I; though seen, and rightly so, imperfect on this side of the veil, we are yet seen perfect in them eyes of the One what give us breath.


Anyways, I have not died today. And that is a fine thing. Yours truly…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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