I lift my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

Mountains.
What are these mountains?
Are they the source of the trouble, or the place of the Lord?
Reflecting on this, I don’t know.
I have read this Psalm so many times, yet still, I am not sure.
And perhaps, this makes all the difference.

He will not let your foot slip. He who watches over you will not slumber.
Indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

Life is busy; days are long. Many things about life feel hard. Perhaps the trouble is coming from the mountains, from the hard road ahead. Step over step, foot over tired foot, seemingly endless clambering towards an insurmountable peak. Snow drifts and icy peaks and rarefied air, gasping, it feels, just to survive. Still, I raise my eyes. To the mountains, to the place of the struggle.

Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

The Lord watches over you – the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

He who does not sleep. Day and night, he watches. Night and day.

Both have harmed me, in the past. Sun smarts and burns and brings destruction. In the same beam, it brings life. Life and death, death and rebirth, the endless cycle. To what end? For what purpose? To cycle around again…

Sometimes, sadness comes by moonlight. Ill met by moonlight. I would continue, but alas! My tongue is betrayed by pain. Still, I raise my eyes. Still, the Lord watches over me. You watch over me.

But perhaps, the trouble does not come from the mountain. Perhaps the mountain, the high place, is the place of worship. I raise my eyes. To whom do I raise my eyes? To you, who watch over me, who is my shade, my moon? He who watches over Israel will not slumber.

The Lord will keep you from all harm – he will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going, both now and forever more.

Reflecting, reflecting on the mountain, I know. The mountain is both. It is the place of trouble. It is the place of worship. It is the bridge between two worlds.

Slowly, painfully, I climb.
This does not change.
My feet are worn and tired,
my body spent.
This does not change.
The sun burns and hurts.
You are my shade,
but still, it burns.
The moon watches over sorrows untold.
The sun and the moon preside over the mountain.
Yet still, the mountain is the place of worship.
Yet still, I raise my eyes.
This does not change.
Yet still, you meet me there.
This does not change.
This does not change.
Coming and going, both now and forever more.
This does not change.
I know.
It makes all the difference, to know.

I lift my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

——
With references to Psalm 121, ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ by William Shakespeare, and ‘In Hospital’ by Gwen Harwood.