Hilltops and Valleys

February 24, 2019

Whenever I crest a hill and can see for miles across valleys spread out before me, I secretly wish I had a home with a view. There is something expansive about a hilltop home that speaks to my soul of dreams and opportunities yet to come. Every so often if I’m not in a hurry, I’ll stop to just soak it all in. There’s something about a view that nourishes my soul.

Then there are those days and nights like we’re experiencing right now. The weatherman said it was coming, and for once, he was telling the truth. Sitting by the fire, I can hear the wind howling in the trees on the crest of the ridge behind our house. We are nestled in a gully, protected on all sides by steep hills perhaps eighty feet high. The winds rage, causing the spruce front of our house to wave and dance, but not with the dervish-like fury that tears off branches and rips roots from the soil. Were we not in this hollow, I’d be quite concerned about those trees, any one of which would be devastating were it to fall and hit the house. Our small grove would be no match for the storm at the top of the hill.

God holds his children in the hollow of his hand. Psalm 91:4 says, “[God] shall cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you shall trust.” If you’ve ever seen a duck or chicken gathering her young to herself, you’ll understand what that means. That mother bird will die to protect her young, whether it means going through the fire or being frozen to death in a winter’s storm. Though God’s people often must endure great trials and suffering, he is more protective of us than that duck or chicken of her young. After all, God is the one who programmed that protectiveness into the bird. He’s the architect of it all. 

So the wind howls in the darkness. I’m grateful to not have to be out in it, to be sheltered in the valley. The storm will pass; I’ll visit the mountaintop again and revel in the view. But in the meantime, having it pass overhead is not such a bad thing.