There are few things in life as calming to me as a clear sky on a summer night in the mountains of Tennessee. Tonight, as I was driving home, I had the sudden urge to see the stars, so I kept driving. I drove about 45 minutes to Chilhowee and wound my way up to my favorite overlook.
I've visited this overlook a lot in the past 5 years. I've watched meteor showers and sunsets here. I've danced here. I've played with spiders here. I've had my picture taken here. I've prayed here. I've thought here. I've felt both love and rejection here. I've laughed and cried here. I've been happy and sad and confused and so sure of myself I thought I could fly right off the mountain. I guess you could say me and this overlook have history.
I'm not quite sure why I wandered here tonight. I have a lot of things to think about and pray about and ultimately make decisions about tonight and over the next few months. I suppose this just seemed like the one place in this world that knows me best. As I watch the mist start to rise from the flowing onyx river and envelop the surrounding hills and gorges, as my eyes wander between the shimmering water to the bright lights of civilization to the twinkling stars above, I can't help but be amazed.
Being up here doesn't give me answers to questions. It doesn't solve all my problems. It is not a panacea for all my worries and woes. It is rather as if I've come to sit on God's lap and let him tell me that having all those things doesn't matter right now.
Sometimes, I think it feels like what cuddling up beside someone special and just being close feels like. At other times, it's like spending the night with your best friend and talking until early morning about anything and everything. Or sometimes it's that feeling like I used to get when my grandfather would come home from work and we'd wait at the end of the driveway to meet him and he'd smile and let us hop in the back of his truck for the ride back to the house.
It's love. It's love the way it's supposed to be. It's simple with no strings attached. It's me and God, and he is lavishing me with a sky full of diamonds and an earth full of emeralds and a lullaby no instrument can play.
I can't help but feel close to God here. I came with the intention of praying and asking for guidance, but all I can think to do now is sit in wonder and awe of his beauty. Laying back on the stone wall and staring into the starlight enchants me, but all things (good or bad) must eventually come to an end.
The further I drive away from the mountain, though, the more my worries and cares and emptiness from which I had hoped to escape find me again. Tears start flowing, and I start talking. Then I listen. Then I talk again. And by the time I pull into my driveway, I still feel the heaviness of being empty, but I also have a glimmer of hope that the emptiness will soon be filled.
God knows my needs, the ones that even I cannot verbally describe. And I trust in him to provide in his own way and in his own time. God is with me always, no matter what my mind is telling me. In this, I am confident.
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