It was time to visit the high places once more. The air was chilly and I prepared myself for a walk in the rain if needed. In silence I set myself to the short hike. From the hilltop I gazed again at the city I loved with compassion. I made my way to the bronze plaque with a picture of a plowman acknowledging the pioneers who came before. Walking back toward the tree, I set myself upon a rock in the sun.
I didn’t have a whole lot of words. I knew I didn’t need them. The clouds at my back were dark and ominous, but before me the sun promised warmth and comfort. I let my mind rest in this peaceful moment, allowing my heart to cry out instead. Looking below me, I silently asked for hope to fill our streets.
I wasn’t ready to leave, yet I knew there was another high place I had to visit. Once in my car again, I turned it around to go in the opposite direction for where I was. Reaching another hilltop I walked this familiar ground speaking the desires of my Father.
Before I had gone to pray for my city, I had been feeling anxiety for my personal needs. Now driving home, I recognized that as I had tended my Father’s work, He had tended my heart to remove the anxiety and fill me with peace. Tears of gratitude began to wash my cheeks.