3/22/21
“The Mighty One, God, the Lord,
speaks and summons the earth
from the rising of the sun to where it sets.
From Zion, perfect in beauty,
God shines forth.
Our God comes
and will not be silent;
a fire devours before him,
and around him a tempest rages.”
Psalm 50:1-3
Seeing the park. I felt like I was coming home to an old friend.
The cathedral towers. And all sorts of shades of orange. Red. Pink. Cream. With added pieces of gray and black.
Gazing around. Out the windows of the tram. Winding through the canyon.
The last time I was here was 10 years ago. A very different me. Afraid. Apprehensive. Mistrusting.
A worried mom. Afraid of letting her children venture a little way, even within sight, down the trail.
An unsure woman. Not wanting to venture out of her secured-box comfort zone. If a box is really even a comfort zone.
This time. This old friend. Rising around me. Sandstone rocks embedded with layers upon layers of colors. God and his perfect creation, shouting! Rising! Shining! For all to see.
Walking. Climbing. Up the trail in a single file line. On and on we went. Taking lots of stops to gasp in air and rest burning legs. And even more, to take in the changing sights of the valley and sheer rock alongside and through a canyon. A canyon stretching its finger up the side of a mountain Away from the valley below and slicing between two of the park’s numerous spires.
And the top did not disappoint.
Walking back down the zigzags and steep inclines. Back from the heights. I know. I would have never even tried the hike I did today. Or the one yesterday.
Focusing on the quiet. Except for random conversations of the other hikers coming back to solid ground. I sped up to stretch my legs. Leaving my family behind. My mind thinking. That relaxing kind of thinking. Remembering. Reminiscing.
Throughout the day. Even yesterday. My kids commented. Surprised at how calm I was yesterday. On another hike. And today.
When we got to the end of the hike. What I thought was the end. Using chains to climb rocks. Until I realized. This was only the beginning of the final and true ascent. An ascent straight up the side of a mountain. A skyscraper of rock. And I knew. I knew that wasn’t for me.
See. In the last three years, I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve become familiar with my demons. How to manage those. Today I knew my limit. It was stopping at a bluff layered with sandstone. Sitting. Watching. As family and friends climbed and climbed. Following the neon yellow hat making its way up the side.
I knew my limit. And this limit was not based on fear or apprehension or mistrust. It was not based on anything but knowing myself. Truly. Knowing myself.
I sat. Watching. Savoring. Freezing even. The chilly wind whipping over the bluff. High above the canyons. The canyons blazing in the sun. Tunneling the wind. I sat. And time stood still. Breathing in deep. My old friend. Seen in a new way. Never
silent. Echoing God’s own words. It is good.
Crossing back over the bridge. Back to the beginning of where today started. Resting on a rock while I wait for the others to join me. The solid lookouts rising around. Glowing as the sun shines down. Reflecting the light against the canyon’s impressive colors. Reminds me. Even the rocks will cry out to Him. Our God will not be silent. From the rising sun. To the setting of the day.
And in my life. Just like in this canyon with its cathedrals and spires and skyscrapers and lookouts. He has not been silent.
Zion.
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