Thursday, April 3, 2014
Commentary: A question on the end of Blue Mountain
Director of Communications
It’s been a few years but I remember meeting my friend, Marv, at a yard sale at the Rockville Church one Saturday. From the sidewalk I could see clearly the steep cliff at the end of Blue Mountain above Rockville Bridge
Pointing, I asked, “Marv, how do I get up there?”
“I’ll take you,” he said.
“Sure. Get in the truck.”
For some time I’d stared at the end of Blue Mountain wondering what the world looked like from way up there, and now my friend, Marv, was going to treat me to the view.
In his four-wheel-drive truck we were soon climbing a creek bed that was masquerading as a road. “Watch out for snakes when you come up here,” Marv warned.
Someone had told me that on a clear day you can see forever way up there at the end of Blue Mountain. It was clear. And sure enough, I could see forever.
Lofty heights take my breath away. They inspire me. They make be feel big; they make me feel small, too. Watching the pavement of Interstate 81 on the way to work every day makes the world take on the personality of concrete and it’s hard to see God in that; but look into a child’s eyes or look at “forever” and your pulse changes.
On another visit to the end of Blue Mountain it seemed like God tapped me on the shoulder and pointed.
There was a little white cross propped up against a tree on the end of Blue Mountain. In black scribbled letters was the name, “Bryan.” That left me pondering. I learned later that a young Bryan took his life at the end of Blue Mountain.
I don’t look at the end of Blue Mountain without pondering — pondering questions that are ages old.
Glad we could get together.