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Please excuse my hiatus from writing. No, I haven’t run out of things to say — if you know me, you know that will NEVER happen! We just returned from 9 days in Alaska. I suppose many are surprised I’d want to go back when they know I had some hard times there. I had many good times there as well, I just haven’t written about them yet, and my daughter and son in law live there now! Throw in the fact that I loved Alaskan summers, I miss Lindsey and Dan terribly, Todd and his parents (Mike and Sue) had never been, we had a free place to stay, free airline tickets (thank you, Amex points!), and you got a recipe for a wonderful vacation!

There is a place called Hatcher Pass not far from Dan and Lindsey’s house. It’s their favorite place to hike, so off we went, driving and climbing up a steep 3500 feet. (We pretty much tried to keep up with Todd’s parents on every hike — they left us in their dust!) Near the top of the mountain, there is an old gold mining camp from the 1930’s called Independence Mine. The views were majestic! We walked around, imagining what the little town was like when you could hear the constant crashing of rocks as the gold was mined from the depths of the mountain.


We didn’t get to look at everything as much as we wanted, so on our last morning, Todd, Mike and I went back. Only this day was quite different. A heavy, dense fog covered the mountains. It was 45 degrees — so cold we could see our breath! But we pressed on to look at the historical buildings we’d missed last time, reading about the life of an Alaska gold mine circa pre-WWII. We could see the buildings when we got close to them, but we couldn’t see even one mountain. Not one valley. Not one river. Not one snow capped peak.

But we knew they were there . . . . not a doubt in our minds.

We knew that through the dense fog, through those heavy clouds, there stood the Talkeetna Mountain Range. There was no chance it wasn’t there. No possibility it had evaporated, moved, took off or left town. If we’d stumbled upon this abandoned mine on zero visability July 9, we would never have known what wonders were behind those clouds. But thankfully, we’d been there on warm, sunny July 6 and had seen the Mat-Su Valley in all its glory. It lurked past our vision — in things unseen. No human power on earth could have convinced us those mountains weren’t there. We had faith because we’d seen with our own eyes in brighter days.

During yet another difficult season of my life (there have been quite a few!), a wise pastor told me, “Don’t question in the dark what God showed you in the light.” I was having a hard time holding on to God’s word, to His promise that He had a plan for my life, and that it was a plan for my good, for my success. I was looking at the daunting circumstances right in front of me, instead of trusting that there is a God whose nature is to love me. I needed someone to remind me what I see in front of me isn’t all there is!

When you’re worried or overwhelmed with the cares of life, tell yourself that though you can’t see it, though the road looks scary and dark, through the clouds there is a mountain. (Say it out loud if you need to!  I do!) If you don’t have someone to remind you, remind yourself of Hebrews 11:1,

Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

Hang on, keep walking, don’t give up. There are all sorts of majestic things just beyond what is right in front of you. Preach the gospel to yourself daily, and remind yourself that though life is filled with shifting sand, there is a mountain that cannot be moved, just beyond the fog, the evidence of things not seen.