When I was just days from turning sixteen years old, I saw the Rocky Mountains for the very first time. I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. I fell in love immediately.
I had never seen anything so spectacular in my entire life. Snow-capped mountains pushed high out of the earth. Their jagged peaks beckoned to me. I felt that I could touch the Face of God if only I could climb to the top of one of the highest summits. They awed and humbled me at the mere thought of the Breath that had created them.
Nearly 35 years ago, on David’s and my first vacation together, we visited the Rockies. It was then that I took my first steps on what I considered holy ground. Since that time, we have traveled, camped, hiked, and backpacked through the Rocky Mountains.
During those precious times, we have truly encountered God. We saw Him one autumn outside of Hermosa Peak on a mountain draped in its coat of many colors. We remembered His promises as a double rainbow arched across a ragged sky. We’ve prayed for Him to calm the storm and lead us home. We have seen a flaming bush that did not burn and water so clear that surely He had already walked upon it. We glimpsed Him in the sunlight on an eagle’s wing, heard Him in a buguling elk, and drank His sweet fragrance in an ancient juniper grove. We’ve witnessed His Glory in such stunning views that time suspended and our hearts seemed to stop. And we almost touched His Face as we climbed on top of our second fourteener, Handies Peak.
Today, I am most blessed and privileged. I stand at the northern edge of my Rocky Mountains. We have now traveled them from stem to stern… over 1,850 miles of the most majestic scenery in the entire world. Praise God… and thank You. This is truly my Rocky Mountain high.
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