The clanging of cowbells has rung through my ears this weekend. It is a sound I could get used to.
I left for the Swiss Alps on Friday afternoon, not a moment too soon. The timing came when I thought I couldn’t crack another egg for hot breakfast nor simply be present for 12 hurting girls one second more.
I needed to retreat and the mountains seemed a suitable choice. Here, where cows find the truest happiness, the earth reaches closest to heaven—in one sense for the Alps’ unparalleled beauty but in another for its elevated peaks.
Here, one is level with the clouds as they float like mist over the mountains. I’ve never felt higher than when our little stick shift car creeped up the slope to our little cabin. Behind us remained the worries and uncertainties of the valley. The daily challenges that seemed more like battles became mundane and miniscule. Here at the top, one is reminded in the literal sense of God’s words: As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.
Truth is revealed. Fears rise to the surface in order to be found out. The mountains and the hills roll infinitely on, unaffected. The cows chew their cud and nap lazily in the bright green pastures, noticing nothing. Here, time stops and perspective shifts so one is reoriented.
I’m dreading tomorrow when I must come down this mountain. The day when time is resumed and clinging cowbells become harder to notice. But tomorrow I also return to the life Christ intends me to live while His presence remains constant. For He has called me to the valley and I must return. There in the beauty of the shadows and its unpredicted hurts. In a dorm building where Christ’s love and peace is desperately needed in order to sustain.