Altitude of the Soul
Sunday morning, I awoke to the sounds of Gods calling of a morning walk amongst a gentle rapids river caving a path along a walk way amidst Gods beauty of rolling hills of green pastures..
The cold, sharp air of the BearTooth Mountains still clings to my lungs, a crisp reminder that a piece of my soul never left the altitude."
The shadows of Montana’s peaks, I did not just see nature; I stared directly into the architecture of God, and I left my heart safely kept within His design.
Driving away from Big Sky Country feels less like a departure and more like a division, as if my heart stayed rooted in the granite slopes while the rest of me kept moving."
My heart is no longer in my chest; it is caught in the branches of a Montana pine, tucked high in a canyon where only God can look after it."
Four days home, and the emptiness runs deep my tears fall like the gushing Yellowstone, pouring over the smooth, cold stone of the road a rushing river of everything I miss.
My tears fall like the gushing Yellowstone, pouring over the smooth, cold stone of the road.
My soul aches for the mornings I woke to His design,When I stood on the edge of Beartooth Pass, touched the very roof of God’s majestic world.
Now, my lungs catch on the heavy city air, longing for that high, sacred breath of the peaks, where I left my heart safely kept in His beauty.
My soul aches for the mornings I woke to His design, where God’s majestic cathedrals of granite greeted my eyes. Now, my lungs catch on the heavy city air longing for the crisp, sacred breath of the peaks where I left my heart safely kept in His beauty.
The city air is thick, but my chest feels hollow, four days since I walked among His high places. Every morning used to be a prayer written in stone, a greeting from God wrapped in mist and majesty
Now, the tears come like water over a freezing road,Flowing fast, wild, and heavy with grief.I filled my lungs with the sky,And left my soul anchored to the summits.
Montana has my heart upon its mighty peaks of Beartooth Pass, my eyes as they wind around its twisty curvy roads. in the big skies upon which God created for Bald eagles to fly free, HOPE is felt upon its majestic beauty, someday God I will see you face to face, until then, I left my soul in Montana and Yellowstone, may the lakes of Yellowstone’s waves rise to delight those who may need to Feels its untouched beauty.,
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