If you walk east on campus, your eyes meet the view of two abutting mountains. Especially as the sun sets earlier and I make frequent trips to the Wilk in the dark and cold, these mountains have left an impression on me. For some reason I do not know, I often find myself looking upon these mountains and imagining the struggles of the pioneers. Whether the pioneers factually crossed those mountains, I don’t know; but, as I look at the lowest point where the mountains join, I imagine the pioneers huddled there in the night. There in that treacherous cradle they look out on the valley God brought them to and wonder, waiting to walk down below. Their ominous legacy stares at me every day from that crevice. I live at the foot of a mountain that represents their pain and their hope; this university has been established in its shadow. The life of study, service, and faith I try to live is an honor to the pioneers' legacy. I am grateful for those mountains. They stand and keep watch over campus, reminders of who came before. A Legacy
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If you walk east on campus, your eyes meet the view of two abutting mountains. Especially as the sun sets earlier and I make frequent trips to the Wilk in the dark and cold, these mountains have left an impression on me. For some reason I do not know, I often find myself looking upon these mountains and imagining the struggles of the pioneers. Whether the pioneers factually crossed those mountains, I don’t know; but, as I look at the lowest point where the mountains join, I imagine the pioneers huddled there in the night. There in that treacherous cradle they look out on the valley God brought them to and wonder, waiting to walk down below. Their ominous legacy stares at me every day from that crevice. I live at the foot of a mountain that represents their pain and their hope; this university has been established in its shadow. The life of study, service, and faith I try to live is an honor to the pioneers' legacy. I am grateful for those mountains. They stand and keep watch over campus, reminders of who came before.
If you walk east on campus, your eyes meet the view of two abutting mountains. Especially as the sun sets earlier and I make frequent trips to the Wilk in the dark and cold, these mountains have left an impression on me. For some reason I do not know, I often find myself looking upon these mountains and imagining the struggles of the pioneers. Whether the pioneers factually crossed those mountains, I don’t know; but, as I look at the lowest point where the mountains join, I imagine the pioneers huddled there in the night. There in that treacherous cradle they look out on the valley God brought them to and wonder, waiting to walk down below. Their ominous legacy stares at me every day from that crevice. I live at the foot of a mountain that represents their pain and their hope; this university has been established in its shadow. The life of study, service, and faith I try to live is an honor to the pioneers' legacy. I am grateful for those mountains. They stand and keep watch over campus, reminders of who came before. 
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2 comments:
I still miss those mountains and four seasons.
Dad
This is Zach. Hi. How are you? The shoe of the week is weird! Bye.
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