I had to drive into Matsapha this morning. I had built some benches for the children to use during Sunday School, and we needed some paint for them. One of my favourite songs was playing on the car stereo.
“For these are my mountains, And this is my glen The braes of my childhood, Will know me again No land's ever claimed me, Tho'far I did roam For these are my mountains, And I'm going home ....”
That song always gets to me. I get to thinking of growing up in northeast Ohio and visiting the old home place in West Virginia. A lot of familiar faces and humble places come to mind when I hear that song. I always wanted to live in the mountains. When we were children, everyone expected that I would be the one to return to our family land on Irish Ridge. You might say that it makes me a little homesick.
Just then I turned a corner and there was the most beautiful view of the mountains toward Mbabane. A tiny voice inside my heart asked, “Maybe these are your mountains?” I drove slowly, taking in as much of the view as I could while driving.
It is nearly 5 PM, and I am still thinking of the timing of that song and of that incredible view. Most days, this time of year, it is too hazy for a view like that. Pardon me if I think that perhaps the Lord provided a clear day today so that he could say to me, “I have you where I want you. And I have given you mountains to enjoy as well. Don’t wish for the mountains you no longer have, when I have given you this. Get on with your work.”
I am also reminded of the fact that neither Ohio nor West Virginia is my real and lasting home. I remember the words of Sarah Andrews when people urged her to leave her work in Japan and return “home.” She said, “Heaven is no further from Japan than it is from Tennessee.”
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