By Kathleen Leftwich

I am a native North Carolinian and, though I am not as old as the saying is, I remember North Carolina’s logo, “Variety Vacationland.” This logo was created to advertise and highlight the entire state, from the mountains to the coast. Whether child or adult, North Carolina is a veritable playground waiting to be explored. 

The mountains and the beach are places that give me great joy. They have provided stillness, quiet, a place to rest, a place to reflect on my life, to work out problems, to center myself, a place where I can feel the presence of God, and can listen, let things go, and gather things up. Different? Of course. But, to me, many similarities exist between them and how I feel about them. 

Both are vast, seemingly endless, and full of possibility. What might appear as small and insignificant, a tiny leaf or grain of sand, is truly significant, their tiny bits making up the whole, things unseen having great importance. Standing atop Black Balsam, after a climb through the woods following narrow trails, winding up and up, I am rewarded with nothing but mountains as far as the eye can see. Or, sitting on the sandy edge of the world, legs stretched into the surf, I watch as the water washes in and out, its pull ever so gentle toward the choppy, white-capped sea that blends into the horizon, water and sky reaching each other finally.

Growing up in the mountains my brother, sister, and I spent our free time playing in the woods that surrounded our home. Our imagination and our feet got us anywhere we needed to go. We learned to hike, to camp, to watch the stars, and what plants we could eat or touch or should avoid. Most of all we learned to appreciate all that was offered. 

Most summers we spent time at the beach, usually camping. Our days were spent wading in the surf, building sand castles, walking the beach collecting shells, or watching to see what treasures would come tumbling in, grabbing them up as quickly as we could before they were lost. We swam, floated on rafts or our backs, ducked under waves that threatened to crash down upon us, sometimes riding them in to shore, tumbling and turning somersaults if we didn’t catch one just right. Mornings we would rush to the beach and watch the sun come up and at night we would head back to the beach to look at the stars. 

Mountains, beach, woods, ocean; all provide me with a place of quiet, a place where I can go and be alone, but never feel alone—a place where silence is mixed with the sounds that are natural, adding to the spirit of the place, to the life that is there, reminding me that sound is not always noise. Peace. Tranquility. Here there are places to stop and sit, to wonder, to question, to pray. These are the places where I feel and see the Holy Spirit at work, where questions are posed, answers are found, and possibility is evident. 

The mountains and the beach are places where I can get back to my childhood, remember happy times, and work out some not-so-happy times. When I look around, take a deep breath, and see all that my eyes can take in, my breath catches and my heart soars. These are the places where I discover how I fit into this space we have been gifted. I am deeply blessed. And I am content.