Seeing, Among Other Things

Ginny Owens sings that she doesn't climb mountains to see the view. I want to sit in my purple chair and stew on that for a few minutes, but she is going on, hardly waiting till she can open her eyes to God's wonderful wonder, His display of great beauty and power. She can't keep from singing.

I can't seem to keep from running these days. All that time, my calves sore, my body ready to plop into bed when I have to stay up late and finish the assignment I couldn't do while I was running. I guess that's predictable, but...

Can Ginny Owens run? Can she climb mountains? How can her feet know where to go even if someone tells her? Can they know each root, each pebble, each ledge slanting away from her and slippery with snow melt?

And why would you hike without a view?

If your heart is singing, I guess that's why. If your faith is seeing, even though you're blind. If your body aches with the burden of God's love blowing the scent of mountains across your face, not merely because you gritted your teeth and made it go.

The Evidence of a Long Time

That frightfully buzzing, biting run
Petered out in a dorm room so many
Seconds ago that my
Computer no longer remembers
I used to visit my blog
Occasionally.