It has been a full day for our family on this mountain, but for me, a day of repose. The evening now finds me with a fresh pot of coffee and my faithful guitar in hand – strumming softly and gazing out our window at the San Juan Peaks, listening to the quiet of this Colorado twilight.
As I look, this scene speaks to me in ways I did not expect - of loneliness and an isolation that is far removed from anything I regularly know. Making me wonder at those pioneers and mountain-men that settled here 150 or more years ago. What kind of man could be on a mountain alone for days and months at a time? Surely they were men who communed with God! For I know of no other practice or passion they might better pursue under such a state or circumstance. If survival itself occupies the most of life – in those treasured moments of repose, reflection and rest – surely the Almighty would be their consideration.
Mountains speak of grandeur and strength. Indeed, they insist it! But, when you are on a mountain alone – as those pioneers of old, or of me with my thoughts this night – they also speak of the finiteness and frailty of man. So that – gazing out my window – I am prone to conclude - when a man knows himself in this way, he forms a beginning of knowing and understanding God.
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