"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help." Psalms 121:1. As I was going through some things a few days ago, I ran across a journal entry from 1989. It is titled "Touchstones of My Childhood." I'd like to share just a portion of it with you. This is a longer post than my usual musings, so please stay with me. One hot August night, my young husband suddenly died. My life's heart skipped a beat then slipped out of sync. The day his life ended, I thought that my life, too, was over. The past was lost; the future was terrifying; the present too painful, even to breathe within it. But breathe I did, for my four children and for myself. As I reached out in my mind for a secure place, I found my mountains were there. In sorrow and with trepidation, I returned to the valley of my childhood for a year, taking my own children to the place of my birth. . . . I walked the paths of my childhood that year, looking - always looking - as if for something I couldn't name - something I had somehow lost. On one such day, I stopped to watch the early summer dew sparking on the delicate face of a spider's web. As I did so, I recognized that I was the object of my own search: I had been looking for myself. The place of my birth had become the place of my rebirth. How easy it is to lose ourselves the the harried pace of life. Neil Maxwell called it getting caught up in the "thick of thin things." I have since realized that I don't have to physically go to a different place for a mountain top experience. I need only lift up mine eyes to the Great Creator of my mountains. It is He who brings help. It is He who brings peace.It is He Who can help each of us find ourselves. We don't have to be lost again.