the mountains called, and I came running...

The mountains make me want to write. Often, I press pause on my pen as it seems easier to be guarded, to hide behind business, to blend in. It's all too easy to get caught up in perfection and forget about transparency; to imagine the nasty things people might say, instead of speaking up and attempting creativity. 

But, today I want to write. I want to explore the world with my fingertips whirling and my mind free to pump. Perfection? No, it never suited me anyway. But, honesty? I'll give it my best.

I'm aware of the mountains looming: tall, yet surmountable; majestic, yet approachable; dangerous, yet smelling of home. They tell me their secrets as I walk their winded trails, unaware of how they've moulded me. They're nothing like the ocean I grew up adoring, yet they sooth my heart in the same way. When I come to the mountains, I come expecting to be challenged. I come knowing they'll force me to be honest with myself. In their presence, I know I'm not safe and I like it. Each step I take, I know that a wrong turn, a misguided step can ruin me. I know that I need to be prepared to experience what they want to show me. I'm forced to talk to my Creator, 'cause there's no denying him when I'm surrounded by this much untainted beauty.

The truth is I have longed to be here from the moment I left in twenty fifteen. I've dreamt about Mount Princeton, reliving each step up her unforgiving, snowy ridge as she baffled me. I've seen Buffalo Peaks in my mind's eye and felt the rage of her blizzards rattle through my body begging me to come back. I've wistfully smelt snow in the air outside my Aussie home, and laughed knowing it's impossible. Like, really.

 

But, being here this time is different. This time I come with another part of myself that I didn't know existed. A whole person who feels like she has always been a part of me, living in the corner of my eye, invisible from sight. My Sierra Mabel; so aptly named. She's my beautiful mountain peak. The contrast is confronting. 

Until now, climbing these mountains was the most insane, physically exerting feat I'd ever achieved. This time I come after having birthed a human, with a whole new understanding of the impact they've had on me. Over the past year, I kept these mountains close in my mind. I knew that if I could scale them through tears and my unrelenting inner voice telling me to give up, I could allow my body to bring Sierra into the world, free from the torment of my mind. The Lord knew. He used each climb to prepare my mind to silence and allow my body to work. He knew that the way I tend to talk to myself when things are tough is debilitating. Anyone else relate? C'mon.

So, we came. Not two, but three. Like the mountains promise, it has been a challenge. Seriously, a jet lagged baby is most definitely a thing! I apologise to anyone who warned me and were greeted with my chilled out, "ahhh, it'll be fine, she's a relaxed baby." I WAS WRONG. It is soul destroying watching your sweet, solid sleeper of a babe be thrown off her axis and have no idea when to do anything. A whacked out, sleep deprived mama doesn’t help. It was not a pretty week: I cried while she cried, slept while she slept, fought fears that she may never acclimate and desperately tried to not be overwhelmed by my lack of friends. Side note: Sierra rocked the billions of planes, airports and car rides - starting 'em young.

 

In what felt like the most frustrating helplessness, I started to pray for a friend; just one. In an attempt to be proactive, I joined a bible study full of old ladies who ironically are doing a study called 'breathe'. While they loved on me and my babe, I was reminded that this is my season to breathe, not be caught up on stupid fears. A time to be friendless; to be quiet in the mountains; to connect more deeply with my American family.

I am so grateful I married a foreigner, even though it has caused me to feel uncomfortable in places where I thought I was secure. I know it's only going to get harder juggling continents and overseas families, but I'm grateful to add these mountains and these people to my list of places that are home. 

I believe places define us - places where we choose to sow our hearts live in us long after we leave. They're the foundation underpinning the fabric of our lives. But, I don't want to be restrained by places or longing or what ifs or maybes. I want to live here, now; and know that my God is good and he hears me, even if my inner voice is drowning out the possibilities.

I am determined to enjoy every second of these gifts. Hopefully I can remember to look past them all to the One who so freely gave. I look forward to the day when it isn't such a struggle.

H x

Psalm 46:1-2