Motivated by Memories

We are all given a view of a much 

grander “mountain.”Because life is not always 

lived from a mountain top we must be 

Motivated by Memories 

through the ordinary everyday portion (“valleys”) 

of our lives to the next mountain top.

The following is an essay I wrote October 15, 1991,

about a mountain top memory which motivates me today.

The “grander mountain” I wish for you to view can be

seen from God’s two book’s, The Holy Bible and nature.  

(see Psalm 121:1)

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Absorbed in the intensity of the labor and the amount of energy it took to move one tired foot in front of the other, I trudged wearily along the forest path.  Earlier in the day, having studied my map, I was motivated by the fact that we were headed for a high-elevation alpine meadow.  Now, with the awareness of the responsibilities my wife Cindy and I had taken upon ourselves this summer, to maintain several miles of winter-littered trails, I hardly noticed the occasional alpine trees which were replacing the lofty evergreens associated with lower elevations.

            Then as I began to notice fewer alpines and larger patches of grass, favorable encounters with previous meadows came flashing through my mind.  The higher we climbed, the less I noticed my tired muscles.  Even the pack horse seemed to pick up her pace as she inhaled the fresh air.  Cindy and I began to catch glimpses of the wide open spaces in the meadow beyond the evergreen alpines.  Then, like a sunrise on a spring morning, the meadow opened up just before cresting the gentle curve of the ridge.

            With new spring in our steps, I noticed that every spire of springing grass blended into one large carpet of green waves.  The delicately tinted flowers of purple, red, yellow, and white, nodding in their perfection in the breeze, were adding perfume to the alpine-scented air.  The warmth of the sun radiated down on us in the thin mountain air.  As we moved along, small birds, startled by our intruding presence, fluttered away seeking refuge farther down the thin path we were treading.  Perched on a large granite rock, a marmot, as if announcing our arrival to his meadow, pierced the silence with a high shrill whistle.  Fresh bear tracks on the trail gave evidence of their recent presence.

            Wondering what more there was to see; we could hardly walk fast enough to satisfy our curiosity.  As we hiked along a rising ridge, our pack horse, “Blaze” stopped suddenly in her tracks.  Her ears erect and nostrils flared; we looked with her down into a lower portion of the meadow to see a small herd of grazing deer.  Aware of our presence, a buck stood tall and still as he stared in our direction.  When satisfied that it was safe, our horse responded to our coaxing and continued moving forward with us along the meadow path.

            Midway through, we encountered a narrow stream that was fed by a clean, cold, gurgling spring, which beckoned us to take a sip.  Thirsty, we lay belly down on the grassy bank.  With head and shoulders above the water, elbows in the air, and hands' palms down beside our shoulders, we extended our necks to slurp the refreshing water through our puckered lips.  Once our thirst was quenched, we arose to continue our tireless hike.

            While moving along, our attention was drawn skyward as a raven crowed overhead.  Instantly we noticed the deep blue sky was so clear it made the snow-capped mountains in the distance appear much closer than they were in actuality.  Many forested valleys filled the vast expanse between each mountain peak.  My gaze was riveted across the valleys to other mountain tops.  Consumed by the silence, I could almost hear the still small voice of God.

            Then, as if to remind us this wasn’t quite heaven, a buzzing deer-fly broke the silence as he circled around our heads, looking for enough exposed skin to land on in hopes of exchanging his stinging venom for our blood.  Not willing to make the exchange on his terms, I flailed and swatted with my hand, until I was successful, ending his career, with a splat, on my left shoulder.

            Our path was now exiting one edge of the meadow.  Just like life itself, we must journey on, motivated to the next mountain top by our memories.