By the time
I get my next ride,
I am out of water,
dehydrated, and exhausted.
I’ve been walking
uphill for a while now.
The man who picks me up
asks where I’m going,
then continues
his cell-phone conversation
with what must be his wife
from the sound of things.
As we drive,
I take the opportunity to rest,
offer a prayer of thanks,
and ponder the irony
and hilarity
of the incident
in Liscannor.
What are the chances
that I would happen
to walk into
the Liscannor Rock Shop
just as the chorus
to Lynnard Skynnard’s
“Sweet Home Alabama”
began blaring over the radio
behind the sales counter?
Is that kind of coincidence
even possible?
I doubt it.
The Lord doesn’t
send Gabriel to everyone,
rather, He speaks to us
through the everyday
things, events, and people
in our lives.
If we’re not paying attention,
we miss it.
Are You trying
to tell me something,
Lord?
-------
After no more
than two minutes,
we arrive at the Cliffs.
I realize that I
had walked almost
the whole way from
Ennistimon to here.
I thank the man
for the ride and
he nods his head,
pausing his
phone conversation
just long enough
to say, “Good day.”
First things first:
I head to the tourist shop
to find the restrooms.
-------
Once inside,
I take out
my water bottles
and refill them
from the sink,
drinking one whole bottle,
then filling it again.
I notice the water
has an odd taste,
and hold my bottle
up to the light
as I walk back outside.
The water is slightly discolored
and has some particles
of the Lord knows what
swirling in it.
At this point,
I’m too dehydrated
to be concerned with cleanliness,
so I just take another sip
and trust my health
to the Lord.
-------
The weight of the pack
makes for a long walk
up to the edge
of the cliffs,
but I manage
to exert my will power
enough to make it.
It was worth
every agonizing step.
As I near the edge
and gaze upon this famous scene
that has been photographed
perhaps a million times or more,
I feel an incredible
sense of awe and wonder
course through my veins.
The shades of color
in the jagged rocks
of the cliffs
range from dark browns
to near blacks.
Close to the top,
there is the dappling
of the emerald green
that clings to the rock face
for dear life.
There are few images
as majestic.
The feeling of being here
can not be fully captured
by pictures or words.
There are people walking
along the trail that follows
the top of the cliffs.
From here,
they look like a trail
of ants in search
of some chunk of food
to carry back to the nest.
They give some perspective
of the immensity
of the great walls of rock.
Wanting to see the bottom,
I set my pack down,
lie on my stomach,
and inch out
until my head hangs
over the edge.
Here is that exhilaration.
I grab a pebble
and drop it over,
watching it plummet
slowly to the small area
of rocky shore below.
This gives me a fuller
sense of just how high
these cliffs stand
above the waters.
I return to my feet
and brush off my shirt.
This is one place,
like many others in nature,
where you truly feel
as if you were in the palm
of God’s mighty hand.
After soaking up
this feeling
for a few moments,
and adding a few more
photographs to the
collection of millions,
I trundle up the hill
to the watchtower.
The view from here
is amazing.
I can see
a long span of the cliffs
stretching out into
the Atlantic.
The timelessness
of this beauty
makes me wish
I could melt into the rocks
and enjoy this sight
forever.
I suppose this
is a glimpse of heaven.
If I can desire
to behold this beauty
so strongly,
how much more so
must the saints delight
in beholding
Beauty Himself
for all eternity.
Being amidst
this ancient beauty
makes me feel young
for the first time
in my life.
As much as I would love
to spend more time here,
I know that I must go
if I wish to reach
the islands by tonight.
-------
After struggling
back downhill
to the roadside,
I decide to take
the advice of the girl
I met earlier today
and just stand still.
The next car
on its way out
of the parking lot
offers a ride.
Thank you Jesus.