The other side of the mountain

on Jul 13, 2013

“Have you ever been to that side of the mountain?”  The voice was soft and the question carried a gentle excitement.

“No.  I haven’t been to mountain at all.”  She seemed to forget how new this all was to me.  Yet with each question, she revealed a little more of how much she loved her home and how much she wanted to show me.

“Oh, you’ll love it!”  Her eyes widened as if images of this other place were flooding in.  “I can’t explain it.  You really have to just see it.”

This dialogue, however brief, shot through my head.  I saw it briefly and it was gone.  I saw the face and her hair slightly blowing to one side.  It was gone just that fast.  It was a fleeting image and thought of a story.  It carried a great deal of emotion, but then disappeared.  It left me wondering what kind of story it could one day be.  The woman had history and passions.  She had dreams and visions.  I know they’re just characters, but it really feels like I’m getting to know someone for the first time.

This was one of those moments, as if I were riding on a plane and the person next to me asked-, “How often do you fly to New York?”  I make some gesture explaining how rare it is, and they launch into a story about their childhood in the Big Apple.  I can’t get over the depth and history behind even the most mundane of persons.

God has created such beauty in our world.  Today while driving, I saw a guardrail with a small dent in the side.  I wondered what the history of the guardrail was and how many cars it had seen.  Maybe I’m strange, but these thoughts rage in my mind each day.  I love to seek out the beauty He has given us to find, even in things like guardrails.

Each story starts the same way.  I meet a new character.  She comments about a insignificant mountain.  Before you know it, a new world is born.  Each day I learn something new about who this character is and how they think, how they love, and what drives them to be something.  Sometimes, I don’t feel like I even have a say in the matter.

Truth is… maybe I don’t.