Today I’m climbing New Hampshire’s Mt. Washington:
nine miles, six thousand feet of autumn glory.
As I prepare in the morning dark
I think of all who climb their own mountains today,
mountains of illness, grief, recovery, parenting,
mountains of abuse, imprisonment, injustice,
a dissertation, a new job, no job, a hurricane,
the mountain of this ordinary day.
We climb together. We pray together:
God of love and wonder,
I thank you for the miracle of bones and nerves,
the muscle and its noble work,
the gift of the upward struggle.
You are my heartbeat and my breath,
my hope and my light.
You are the energy of my struggle,
the goal of my climb,
the song that encourages me,
the companion who accompanies me very step.
You are my compass, my light,
my hope, my open air.
I carry you. You climb in me.
You are the path, you are the climb.
God of Presence, you are the mountain.
You sing in me: