The Mountains and the Road

Today, my mother and I drove up to my old summertime stomping grounds, the north Georgia Mountains. For three summers, I worked in the mountains at a Boy Scout Summer Camps. Those summers are some of my most cherished and missed memories. Even just visiting the area was a bit of a homecoming.

One of the really great things about the state of Georgia is that you get a little bit of everything. There are the lowlands and wetlands, thick with the muddy waters, alligators, and at the moment, smoke. This of course fades into the coastal plain which leads visitors to Georgia’s frozen-in-time islands and cities that ooze Southern Charm (Savannah, anyone?). Further north you’ll find the piedmont. These rolling hills are generally green (excepted the drought-parched terrain that seems to be all you can see at the moment). This area boasts Atlanta, and a myriad of charming towns that remind you of what life used to be like, and make you wonder if it could ever be that way again.

And then you come to my favorite place--the mountains. I’m not exactly sure what fascinates me the most about the mountains. I think my love comes first and foremost from my mother. From my earliest years, we would drive up to the North Carolina mountains on a crisp, fall Friday night. We always had to leave after daddy got off work, so we wouldn’t see the actual mountains. We would only catch glimpses of the mountain shadows against a harvest moon.

The next morning though, was fantastic--vibrant colors, warm sun that made you feel comfortable in your own skin. On the twisted road to the cabin we normally stay at is a private drive called “Hallelujah Acres.” I’d seen it in past years, always leading up to some old homestead. But this year, the meaning was different. The beauty surrounding it finally explained the simple label. The trees, bursting into color shouted “Hallelujah.” But greater still was the meaning that even through the deaths of the leaves will come the buds of spring. Hallelujah.

Isn’t that how we go through life? Driving down the interstate with everyone else, finally finding the exit ramp we had been looking for all along (after many bathroom stops, wrong stops, and u-turns) only to stumble upon moments of grace and illumination--those are the hallelujah acres of our lives.

So we are all on the road, driving toward the beach or the mountains or the lake or relief--God help us find where we are going.

blessings.
jon.