This evening at church we were looking at Hebrews 12 and the place of the mountain in Christian life and my mind went back to my Grandmother who was born and brought up in Chile. She told me that she arrived in the UK in 1919 and spent the entire journey by train from Liverpool to London thinking it must be a foggy day as she couldn't see the mountains. Of course in Chile you are never far from the Andes and she had never experienced a flat land like Britain. This set my mind racing and I wrote the following poem.
Where Are The Mountains?
I looked and looked but couldn't see the mountains,
'It must be misty' I said 'so the mountains are hidden,
I'll see them tomorrow - your mountains'
Then they told me 'There are no mountains'
And I wondered at how this could be.
I walked and lived in the valleys with no mountains
But still I looked up in case I saw them.
Then, one day, you showed me your mountains.
Mountains that are always there
Where we can meet with you.
Now I walk in the valleys that are only in shadow
Because your glorious mountains surround them.