I've just finished reading the book, 60 Degrees North by Malchy Tallack, which I highly recommend. It's a true story of man that goes in search of a stronger connection to the word "home" along the 60 degree parallel; he is from the Shetlands. The artistry with which he writes is utterly beautiful. It is a long drink of water, drawing on historical, cultural, and geographical information to give the reader a great amount to think about and consider.
As Dave and I drove back from our second annual Valentine's trip to Pitlochry, on what is turning out to be a very white time of the year, I looked out over the snow dusted hills and considered what "home" means to me. Growing up in the Piedmont of N.C., hills were plentiful, but mountains were a small drive away. Yet when I consider some of my favourite memories, hills are etched in everywhere. From camping at Morrow Mountain twice yearly with my family, to skiing in the mountains of West Virginia, to seeking solace in the Smokey Mountains where a part of my "home" still lingers, my heart seeks to be on a higher plain. Even in the High Desert of California, I felt closer to God, closer to the desires of my heart, closer to being at peace. I like the view from the top, but my husband would tell you I'm reluctant to climb (which is not untrue; I'm lazy). However, when I can muster the clearheadedness of action, knowing I will love the feeling of seeing from a higher space, I love looking down on the bigger picture.
Where is "home" for you? Thankfully there are mountains everywhere; hills in lots of places. Wherever God calls us, he can lead us "home." He is on the mountain, and the valley. If we anchor ourselves in Him, we can go wherever the winds blows us, and never be far away.
