I toss and turn all night. Heat wraps the house in its unforgiving claws, dragging sweat from wherever it can be found. I drift in and out of sleep; dreams of the things of my past making their way into my restlessness.
I awake to the sounds of weedeaters chomping down their breakfast in the neighbors yards next door. Dogs bark up and down the street and the one in my backyard yaps back faithfully. I can still feel the trains coming before I can hear them. Somehow I just know; I always have. In habitual processions they come both day and night, blaring their horns as loud as they can go; rattling the house frames ever so slightly, making its way into a low rumble in the carpet beneath my feet. Life seems to stop for those 20 seconds as conversations are swallowed up like a vacuum in space, tv's are paused and cars stack up behind the blinking red lights like little dominoes in a row.
I lace up my shoes in preparation for my now frequent runs- something I look forward as a place of solace; a place where everything around me but the sound of my heart beating in my chest can be drowned out for those 30 minutes of my day. As my feet hit the pavement, waves of repulsion hit my nose, seeming to rape it violently. This intruder engulfs me in the sour smells of octane, exhaust, sewage, and roadkill lining the streets and ditches, interrupting my once peaceful runs. Cars haphazardly speed by to pass me, some slowing down to smile and whistle at me, asking me if I want a ride. I keep my mouth closed and my head up; keep running towards the goal before me. And though I block everything out as I run, I can't seem to block out the memories of last summer. The sounds and smells and intrusions here remind me that I'm back in the place I grew up, but the memories, they remind me that somewhere far away, I have what feels like home.
Flashback
I wake up to the sweet, ashy smell of logs burning in the stove. Strands of glorious light make their way in through the slats and settle on the blanket which is engulfing me in its warmth. I step out of bed, still smiling from the warmth of both my blanket and my dreams. The sounds of wild turkeys meet my ears and I look out the windows to see their jolly little wobbling and their awkward attempts at flight. Something else moves; barely, but its there. A sweetly spotted fawn gingerly follows the footsteps of his cautious mother. Somehow she senses my eyes on her, and on feet that seem airborne, swiftly leads her little one off into the ubiquitous covering of pine trees that surround the property.
I lace up my running shoes and let them hit the dirt. I'm greeted with the smell of pine trees, horses grazing along the barbed wire fences, hay bales for the buffalo lining the mountainside, dirt settling on fences, settling on the animals, settling on me. As I run my eyes meet the graceful mountains shrouded in the glory of the sun and of the pink clouds drifting silently across like cotton candy. The buffalo on the hillside graze on their meals, mindful of my my presence and mulling over whether I'm a threat or not. The reflections of all these things melt into the cow lined lake before me. I take in this double portion of beauty and run faster towards this little sliver of heaven.
And now, as I run in the assaulting sounds and smell of the city, I realize that that is exactly what it was; my own little sliver of heaven.
God displays the beauty of the riches of heaven uniquely for each person. He pours his love into marriages, reminding his children of His bridegroom yet to come. He uses the backdrop of landscapes, of children's laughter echoing in the corridor of our hearts. He uses the the beauty of the broken being made whole to shine glimpses of the perfection of His kingdom. Sometimes He shares pieces of heaven by taking His people there directly. He takes them into dreams, He takes them into visions. But me; He just took me to Montana.
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