Welcome.

Here in the mountains of Idaho, nostalgia comes naturally and effortlessly. These days I am so often reminded of the ruralness of the ranch where I grew to womanhood. As the years pass, my memory of that place becomes more sacred, sweeter.

There, on (in its own right) hallowed ground, I first felt love. From those who were entrusted by God to bequeath it.

I came to know something of Jesus and as I grew, I entered into a friendship with Jesus.

On Mother Nature’s ground blanket, I heaved a large rock onto helpless walnuts and blackened my mouth and hands until my stomach was stuffed with them.

There from that same orchard, I picked and consumed endless fruit, hoping that my uncle’s jeering that I would grow an apple from my head because of the seeds I ate would not come to pass.

I slept in the alfalfa fields, a soft bed for a tired teen.

I rode my first bike there, rejoicing in the victory of something that felt scary from the top of the hill.

Lying inside a homemade tent with humidified air, I was – more than once – tenderly cared for by my mom who made and laid a chest poultice on me to help break up the pneumonia to which I was prone and then put a cow bell nearby so I could summon her when she was needed.

On those country roads I was witness to the power of God when we crashed a car and a large tree came rushing through our windshield without scathing one of us.

I knelt with my family there on that ranch and listened to my dad importune God for rain or other times, to withhold the rain because our hay was down.

And we had so many times of scripture study and family home evenings. It was there, on those country roads, that I first felt the Spirit of God settle on my senses and burn, like a cleansing fire, in my soul.

And times in the barn milking and walking through the fields picking rocks or moving pipe. And there was the time I forgot to unhook the pipe line from the valve and wrecked who knows who many hundreds or thousands of dollars in sprinkler equipment. Not even a harsh scolding from my father.

Something happened inside of me with all these country roads experiences. I grew up safely, securely, believing, becoming.

There’s something you can’t quite nail down about country living, about settling down among trails, wildlife, wild flowers, and tranquility.

Especially in these times of conflict and division.

I am reminded of three of the world’s greatest thinkers and what they said about stroking your soul with nature’s awe and wonder.

William Shakespeare:

“One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”

Ralph Emerson:

“The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.”

Albert Einstein:

“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.”

Somewhat full circle, I have come home to the mountains, to nature, to a bit of off the grid living, to a more full understanding of self, life, and God.

As Lily and I spend our days roaming trails and roads on foot and on the four-wheeler, there comes to me a kinship with everything we cross, even the crickets. The thistles are even lovely with their striking purple. The verdure that creeps through the rocks, the patches of lively, wild sunflowers that spring up on the side of the road, the deer that easily bounce up the mountainside – the everything.

It is so good for my soul.

For my body. For my spirit.

For renewal. For refreshing. For hope. For happiness. For peace.

“Take me home”, yes, John Denver, yes “to… almost heaven…to [these] country roads.”

To a beautiful affinity with God’s creations that masterfully tell of His wonder and my awe.

Unto all the world: Share nature’s soul today and be renewed!