I live in the mountains.

I live in the mountains. Beautiful, green mountains that play with the clouds passing by. Within walking distance of a lovely creek, full of boulders and icy water and bordered by trees and moss and flowers. Half-an-hour from a city that is home to more people than live in my entire state of origin, and to which I can easily arrive on public transportation.
I live in the mountains, and I always wanted to live in the mountains. That means some rainy days, which means mud. It means being a bit isolated and maybe feeling out of touch with the rest of the population sometimes. It means amazing views out of my windows.
I live in the mountains, and I want to fully appreciate that. To take advantage of the glory all around me. Today I went to said creek, with the intention of doing nothing other than sitting on a big rock for a while, which I did. (Unfortunately, I have some fears about being alone in nature now... the residual effect of being mugged over a year ago.) I tried to get out to a few different rocks, but wasn't able to, due to the size of the stream after recent rains. I crossed over the log bridge to look for another rock, reached it, and stayed a while.

I live in the mountains and I have a good God. I hope to make more frequent trips to the river, to hear the sound of rushing waters, like the sound of the voice of God. Somedays, like this one, will be when I feel sad. Other days, I hope, will be only to enjoy it and spend time with my Father. To bless his heart and enjoy his presence.