Coming Down from the Mountain

Life is plagued with ups and downs, times when we are so high, it is a mountaintop experience; exhilarating, full of great spiritual fulfillment and times we fall to the depths of the valleys of the darkest of emotions and feelings of despair.  For myself, this has been a rough couple of years, as life seemed to slowly spiral downward through spiritual crisis of family and ministry.  This time opened up questions for me on the deeper meanings of “home,” “call,” and “ministry.”  On my recent visit to Italy I had the joy of coming down a literal mountain and finding myself full of awe and wonder at the beautiful metaphor the mountain top decent to valley that unfolded before me.  A walking journey that gave time to breathe, experience and observe slowly, savoring the descent carefully, meaningfully.  Metaphors are so often a source of wisdom, and in this instance it was a great spiritual journey that provided insights for healing and wholeness as well.

Beautiful Cross at the top of Mont'Arale

The journey began in a wonderful way in the fact that I did not have to climb the mountain, but was dropped off by my dear friend and the source of my even being in Italy, Colleen.  When people ask how I originally visited Italy, the simple answer is, Colleen, but the more authentic answer is that God led me to a place in life where I was destined to encounter my unknowing but essential guide to this portion of life’s journey.  The “real” drive to the top of the mountain was out of efficiency of time, and because currently I am simply tired, this was a time to rest not work-out.  Colleen and I had been exploring locations for our Spring 2011 spiritual retreat and the Mont’Arale was the last place to take pictures of and explore, so thusly I was dropped at the top.
At the top of Mont’Arale is a great Cross that is lit at night and shines over the valleys below, a great sight to see when we are returning home to the village of Piegaro from afar, a familiar, beloved beacon.    In the daytime the curves of the details of the cross are quite elegant and the experience of truly being so high is wonderful.  I was informed by a local friend, Christiana that you can actually see Rome from the top of the mountain, 150 km away.  Perusia and Lago Trasimeno seem close enough to touch from there.  The vista is all at once awesome, amazing and peaceful through the trees.
As I began the descent a few things became obvious to me, the seasons were changing and the people were hurriedly preparing for the onset of autumn and winter to come.  The grasses of the fields were turning a late season golden along the sides of the road, peppered with wildflowers and busy bees.  The farms of the mountainside were busy with men cutting and loading firewood to be delivered to local homes.  There were multiple families tending their yards and homes; bringing in crops and fixing roofs, once again busy, busy.  I reflected at how much work the changes in seasons, the changes in our lives take, a constant flow of energy poured out.  The necessity of change means the necessity of work, hard work.

Signs of seasonal change, vines wither as grapes and pumpkins ready for harvest.

In the walking I also realized that even though I hadn’t climbed the mountain, the downward walk was also strenuous.  The slope of the hill meant gravity induced heavy steps that wore on the knees and ankles, pulling quickly to invite a speedy pace.  The walk therefore was not entirely in my control, and drew me into a faster pace than I would have cared to go as I took in all the beauty of the countryside, farms and vistas that lay about me.  There were also signs of road-kill, rust, fallen fruit, never to be eaten and abandonment, reminders that this was no longer the mountain top.
As I reached the valley floor, I was noticeably tired. I could see the goal of the village of Piegaro looming on the other side of the valley, inviting me on, looking so beautiful on the next hilltop.  In the valley the river was now a trickle of a creek, the fields had turned away from the lushness of the green of spring.  The roads connecting towns were bustling with trucks and traffic in the afternoon, filling the air with noise and smells that overcame nature.  And yet, and yet…
As I came to the very bottom I heard one of my favorite sounds of Piegaro, the flock of sheep grazing in the meadow, their bells and bahhhs singing a sweet tune.  As I reflected on words of a spiritual advisor asking if I had “hit my bottom” in current life place, I was overjoyed by the sight of sheep.  The Psalmist’s words, “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…” sang in my head; here, in this place visible, audible signs of hope abounding in the driest of valleys.  I set about immediately to take some pictures joyfully.  At that moment a gentleman pulled up in his truck and speaking in Italian asked, “Are you taking pictures of the sheep?” “Si!”
“Why?” “Per que mio pazzo!” (because I’m crazy)
“Where do you live?”  “Piegaro!”
“O.K” he said as he drove off laughing.
I realized in the conversation that a) my Italian improves quickly when I’m there and b) the most truthful thing I spoke from my heart that trip was that I live, Live, LIVE in Piegaro.  For all the confusion and muddle of the last 2 years, I had found a place to live and breathe Spirit that fed my soul, in God’s time, at my time of greatest need.  As I began, re-energized, walking up the hill toward Piegaro, I thought of all the beautiful reflections from my journey down the mountain:
Life is full of changes, it requires reaction and work. Just as the seasons change, so do our lives.  How do we adjust gracefully, work well with the changes we choose, and those we don’t choose on life’s journey?
What can we do to savor the moments that slip by so quickly, both the times of grace and of challenge, when we feel pulled almost by nature through life more rapidly than we would like?
How do we see hope when we hit bottom?  How do we listen for unknown voices calling us to name our truth?  What brings us the courage when at the depths to speak our truth?
Finally, what helps us identify where we LIVE the life we’ve been given, this one, precious life?  What gives us strength to live into the fullness of that life, and how do we nurture it?
May we all take time to see the sacred in surprising ways, when and where we aren’t  expecting, and know that even when we traverse into the lowest levels of our lives that God is with us, guiding us as a VERY Good Shepherd.

Ah...if you could imagine the bells and bahhhs of the content sheep.