This week I took a group of eighteen fourth graders on a hike to a place that is referred to as Ship Rock Meadow. This is a relatively easy hike, however when the majority of your hikers are nine it becomes a little bit more annoying and difficult. But when we arrived at the meadow, all thoughts of death and suffering ended, surprise and utter joy filled the air as big rocks and pretty flowers spread wide before them.

I had the pleasure of walking around with three sets of wide eyes soaking in the glorious wanders of a mountain meadow, we traveled from plant to plant identifying the unique species. One of our favorites was a flower known as the "Glacier Lily," as dorky as this may sound, I learned a lot from this little yellow flower. Rich in color, it stands on a tall stalk high above the meadow grasses, with spindly white tendrils that twist around the petals forming a soft shape that reaches towards its heavenly creator.

Here is a flower that is so simply magnificent, in complete ease it spends its days praising our Papa in its mere existence. Yet it does not bloom in the mountains until the summer is in full sun shining swing. The mountain meadows gleam with morning dew announcing the unveiling of all the glory of our God, our Boet, our Creator, our Alpha, our Omega, our YHWH, our Breath, our Shelter, our Potter.

"He is Jealous for Me. Loves like a hurricane I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy. Oh how he loves us, how he loves us so." John McMillan