Inquisitive Adventures

As we drove to North Carolina and the mountains came into view, I felt something deep within my body both unsettled and calm. This always happens whenever we visit my favorite part of the U.S., an unexplainable peace in anticipation of visiting wild places that have stolen my heart, places where I go to meet God away from the noise of the world and my everyday life.

Our first visit was to Grandfather Mountain. I think one of my favorite things about mountain areas is that you can visit the same place and have a completely different experience every time.

This trip, we decided to add a new stop to our adventure. As we drove up the winding road, I went from calm to tense. I’m not sure if it was my husband’s driving, past experiences with other people driving, or simply the height of the mountain itself, but I suddenly had this vivid thought of us falling down the side of the mountain.

When we finally made it to the top and stepped out of the car, we were immediately hit by the wind and temperature change. We made our way across the Mile High Swinging Bridge. I could feel it gently move beneath my feet as I stepped across the metal grates. I stood in awe of the view before me.

After crossing the bridge, you can walk a small rock path toward a cliff overlook. I became anxious and yelled to my husband, who was ahead of me with our dog, “Don’t go near the edge!” I was nervous that they would slip or fall.

But once I finally made it to the overlook myself, wonder hit me all at once.

I am not normally afraid of cliffs or heights. I have walked close to many before, partially slid down one once, and even been caught by my arm after losing my footing. No fear.

Yet in this moment, I realized there is a part of myself that has either been lost over the last few years or caged by everyday life and its stress, the part of me that seeks silence, wonder, and adventure.

It is in places like this that I feel most like myself and most connected to God. Standing there above the clouds, I had this image come to my mind of God walking beside me, and His presence felt deeply comforting.

“I lift up my eyes to the mountains,
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.”
— Psalm 121:1–2

There is a part of me that almost feels skeptical that our rushed, overwhelmed everyday lives are what true life is supposed to feel like.

In places like this, surrounded by silence, wind, and mountains, I feel more awake to God’s presence, more grounded, and more alive. Almost as if wonder itself is a part of how we were created to live.

Standing there above the clouds, I realized how much of my life has been spent bracing for the next thing to go wrong. Stress has a way of shrinking the world around you.

But the mountains reminded me that God did not create us only to endure life. He created us to notice it. To stand still long enough to feel awe again. To hear His voice in the wind, the rain, and the silence.

Maybe that is why I keep returning to the mountains. Not just because they are beautiful, but because they remind me that God is still near, still steady, and still speaking.

Even here. Especially here.