Big mountain

Wide River
There's an ancient pull
These tree trunks
These stream beds
Leave our bellies full
- The Decemberists, Rise to Me

Yesterday I was driving to the gym and looking longingly at the mountain when it occurred to me that it was only 86 degrees at 9am at the end of July, an occurrence so rare I had to take advantage. I had a water bottle and sunscreen in my glove box and a hat in my gym bag and I was ready to go! It was so beautiful after the monsoon rains and even a few puddles along the trail. As I ran I thought about my great aunt Ruth who passed last week. I think she is now part of the mountains and the wind and the bright orange, blue and grey rocks lining the path, and perhaps in that way she looks down at all of us each traversing our own rocky trails. And now she's back with Uncle George, the silhouette of his cowboy hat visible in the clouds. And that is where I will go to rest one day. That is church to me. That is God's grace for sure.