Good morning from Mountain Brook, Massachussetts.Somewhere deep in the forest away from cell service and roads, on a stream named “Mountain Brook”, I pitched my tent at the end of my fourth day of my fall 2018 hike. My first message was one of “golly, this is hard!” This message is one of “count your many blessings.”It’s a truism that the AT gets harder each state that you progress north, and my first blessing has been to take a new look at the experience. To enjoy it and not hold each day up against the day before, to do my best but not become so “OCD” about mileage that I cease to see the beauty around me. There’s a message in that approach that fits life, isn’t there? We can move so fast and set so many goals and objectives that we actually miss the living in the process. It’s certainly true on the AT.A second blessing that I’ve encountered is that, just when you think you have reached the end of your rope, God drops a source of refreshment into your day or your situation. You can focus on the hard stuff and miss this little gift, or recognize the gift for what it is and be uplifted. As I climbed Cobble Hill outside Tyringham, MA, I was gifted with the most amazing experience. Exhausted and with no idea where I’d spend the night, I sat down on the summit to call Cindy and check in. Her voice and her encouragement reinvigorated me… blessing number one. Then, at the strike of 6 PM, the old white church in the valley, from a tall white carillon steeple, began to peal multiple traditional hymns with its old bells. “The Old Rugged Cross” and “Holy, Holy, Holy” and others serenaded me for fifteen minutes. I was awestruck by the beauty of the moment. My worries vanished about finding a place to pitch a tent (no camping allowed in the Tyringham Cobble) and I charged down the mountain humming the refrain of “Holy, Holy, Holy” over and over.At the bottom of the hill I hit a road where a young boy manned a stand titled “AT Snack Stand”. The fellow sold me two soft drinks and we spoke about the cows that a neighboring farmer had allowed to wander into the road. That boy and his Mug Root Beer was blessing number three.I kept walking, sure that there would be a place for me to pitch a tent before he approaching sunset. And sure enough, a hundred yards after I’d wandered through the cows and crossed two fence stiles, I landed in a deep fir forest by a burbling Brook. Blessing number four.Some count all of this sappy story up as chance or happenstance. I don’t. I was exhausted at the top of Cobble Hill, but God “rang my clock”, so to speak. He does this very often in life and we miss this movement of the Holy Spirit who is saying “don’t give up yet! I haven’t ever… and won’t ever… give up on you.”I’ve been blessed by many encounters with neat people, too. “NOLA” (New Orleans) and “Purple Streak” (hair died purple) were two ladies I shared a shelter with two nights ago. Vibrant interesting ladies of my age tackling the trail late in their lives. “Royal Canadian” (flaming red beard, from Canada), “BillyBong” (Aussie with a huge smile), and multiple encounters with other South Bounders (SOBO) have kept me engaged with people. I see about 7-8 SOBO’s each day. Every one has a new story and a new outlook on what he or she has just finished, a section that I have ahead of me and yet to tackle.I am re-inspired with a new look on trail life, dropping the mileage chase and making the most of what I have. I am reinspired to see God’s hand in events and situations where I might have missed it. And I learn something every day by the chance encounters with people that are on the same path as me, all of them going in the opposite direction. What blessings have been sprinkled on your life that you might have ignored? What people, on the opposite path, have you encountered whom you might learn from?Have a wonderful weekend. I will arrive tonight in Dalton, MA for my resupply stop. Then on toward Vermont!Blessings,Austin Boyd (“Hawkeye”)
