Unable to sleep last night, and not willing to stay in bed tossing and turning, I got up at about 4:00 AM and went outside to the porch. It was cold, even with a heavy wool sweater, so I wrapped up in a tie-dyed cotton blanket made by an artist from Floyd County. I don’t remember her name.
Buddy jumped up from his bed as soon as he heard me stirring. He came out with me, a little confused by the timing. The half moon in the southern sky made enough light to see, but Buddy was not happy without sunshine and birds to chase. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking toward Walker Creek as the high waters from recent rains sang across rocks in the creek bed.
The old wooden bench on our porch faces the southwest. It’s a beautiful view in every season and in any light. Three hills converge in the natural focal point of the view and a big, full, pine tree stands alone there. It is probably my wife’s favorite spot on the mountain.
I sat for an hour or so, enjoying the cold, the sound of wind in the bare trees, coyotes crying somewhere up on the ridge, and the rustle of invisible wildlife in the brush piles. With gratitude for the comfort of living in such a beautiful moment, I felt the weight of worry, the burdens of past sins, and an old man’s thoughts of mortality, fading away. I prayed the way I usually do, in a simple conversation with God, saying “thanks for all this, it’s perfect.”
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. ~Psalm 121:1
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