Crossing the Alps

Crossing through the Alps, I am reminded of a book my mother read me as a child.  I recall trying to envision the beauty of the place where Heidi lived but could never have imagined what I see now.  This sight before me brings the book alive and transports me to my youth.

As I stare skyward, I imagine Heidi and grandfather.  I can almost see Peter tending the goats.  I wonder which of the chalets might belong to the old man.  Is he crafting a new piece of furniture?  Heidi is surely picking wildflowers in bunches to adorn the plain, wooden tabletop in grandfather's home.  Peter's grandmother is waiting for him to return from the mountain. 

It is sunny and although snow caps the very tops of the mountains, it is surprisingly warm...comfortable.

In the town below, you can see the church steeples poking out from the crowded village.  You know that there is life inhabiting that place but it is so far away, you cannot see movement.

The mountaintop is the only life you can imagine now...the only life you need.  On the mountain is grandfather, Peter, the flowers, the animals and the very clear presence of God.