Comfort and Mystery

Looking out past an open car door toward a view of mountains - fading into the distance

I often need to look up and out for perspective.

Lucky for me I live in West Virginia – a “land of rolling mountains”…

There is nothing quite like the perspective I get from looking into the hills…especially when I can glimpse a series of hill tops as they fade off into the distance.

The ridges ripple away into the unknown, trailing into fainter and fainter shades of blue-green as they go.

As they fade, they evoke a sharp vision within my mind and soul.

They spark perspective.

A perspective of comfort and mystery, all in one.

I grew up in the West Virginia hills, so for me their presence is comforting.

Like getting a hug from the earth or being wrapped in a blanket.

I have traveled and lived abroad, so I know there is a world beyond that last ridge.

I’ve experienced some of it, but the world still holds mysteries for me. (Thank goodness!)

There are infinite new vistas to discover and explore.


Inevitably, when I look up and out at the hills, I drink in the sky as well.

I love looking at the sky – especially when days are coming or going.

Frosty February sunrise and orange sky over a neighborhood

Cloud stripes hover within subtle swatches of pink, orange, red, blue, and grey.

Quietly and boldly they proclaim that beauty comes in wisps of diverse gradation.


In the morning, the sun arrives from somewhere beyond those last faded hill tops.

I am comforted by its return.

In the evening, it journeys beyond where I am and what I know.

I am inspired to seek out that land of mystery.

Red-orange sunset with tree silhouettes

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Move Like the Sun

A walker perched on a driveway - facing into the rising sun.

I don’t know how it works in flat country, but where I live, you can see the sun coming before it arrives.

There are hints and clues that the sun will come up.

The sky changes color – ever so subtly and then ever so confidently.

The darkness gives way to the light, but not in one amazing, dramatic before-and-after moment.

I looked out our front window this morning, coffee mug in hand, and observed the sky.

Some small puffy clouds hung low over the horizon, reflecting an eastern highlight, offering an early clue that day was dawning.

As I watched, my thoughts were elsewhere.

I was thinking of my Mom, who is working hard to rehab a broken hip.

It’s been just under a week since the break and the surgery.

She is already making good progress, but I know she wants the recovery to move more quickly.

There is comfort in the lesson of the morning sky.

It won’t be one amazing, dramatic before-and-after moment when my Mom’s mobility gets back to normal.

There will be hints and clues that her hip is healing and her mobility is returning.

She will listen to the therapists and move her feet – ever so subtly and then ever so confidently.

She will get stronger and stronger.

Just like the morning sun.

Once the sun is up, the day’s routines run their course.

It won’t be all at once, but soon Mom will be off and running.