mountains – Michele Huey

Then God looked over all he had made, and he saw that it was very good! – Genesis 1:31 (NLT)

Have you ever heard of negative ions? Until a few years ago, I hadn’t.

I was reading in Leslie Sansone’s Walk Away the Pounds book when I came across the term.

“If you feel down or sluggish despite your new exercise program, the air might be your problem,” she writes. “Positive ions in the air, created by pollution, TV screens and computer monitors, and cars, cause fatigue, headaches, and other problems.”

I remembered how sick I felt when I taught in an old building on the main street of town, in a room with windows that opened up to truck exhaust that left a black sooty film on everything and caused my eyes to water and burn.

I read on: “Negative ions counteract this, improving mood, sleep, and energy.” Yep—just what I needed.

Where can negative ions be found? Waterfalls, pine forests, and the beach—in nature, away from the manmade.

I remembered how I fell in love with the mountains when my family vacationed in Cook Forest when I was nine years old, and then bought a small cabin not far from there. I always felt so much better at the cabin than back home in the steel-mill town where I grew up. That’s why I went to Clarion to college, and accepted my first teaching job in Punxsutawney. And why my husband and I built our home in the country.

According to WebMD, negative ions are “odorless, tasteless, invisible molecules that we inhale in abundance in certain environments,” where sunlight and moving air and water break apart the air molecules. Negatively charged ions are believed “to help alleviate depression, relieve stress, and boost daytime energy” by increasing oxygen flow to the brain, “resulting in higher alertness, decreased drowsiness, and more mental energy.”

“The more negatively charged ions there are in the blood, the more efficient the cell’s metabolism,” I read on another site.

All this—without popping a pill? Wow!

I thought of how good I’d been feeling, now that I’m retired. My country home is on top of a mountain, where pine trees surround me. I thought about how much less time I’ve been spending at the computer. I went from eight-plus hours a day to no more than four. Mostly because since my neck surgery in 2011, sitting too long at the computer (or anywhere) in a more-or-less fixed position, causes my neck and shoulder muscles to stiffen up and ache.

Less time at the computer (or in front of a TV) means less time exposed to positive ions that have a negative effect. More time outside, in nature, means more time exposed to negative ions, which have a positive effect.

So, in addition to my in-home walking DVD, I added a 30-minute walk around our property, through the fields along the tree line and along a path through the woods. I felt better than I’d felt in years.

What an awesome discovery! But what is even more awesome is the God who planned and created it all for us—even the negative ions.

I’m reminded, O Lord, of Your love for me each time I step outside, watch the different birds at my birdfeeder, gaze at a breathtaking sunset, marvel at the beauty of a flower. Thank you for creating all this for me. Amen.

Read and reflect on Genesis 1.

Image courtesy of wallpapers13.com.

“What’s a footlog?” I asked Dean. I was soon to find out.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—Where does my help come from? – Psalm 121:1 NIV

One of the trails my husband and I hiked on our camping trip to the Great Smoky Mountains was the Kephart Prong Trail. Littered with golden leaves, it wound through the forest two miles up a mountain along a gurgling creek and several waterfalls to a hiking shelter near the summit.

The trail crossed the creek at several places—four to be exact. Bridge number one was a nice one-lane footbridge constructed of wooden planks with a log railing on one side. I crossed it no problem.

The first foot bridge. I didn’t know what was ahead.

Then we got to the second bridge, but it wasn’t called a bridge—it was called a “footlog”—a split log about 25 feet long spanning the creek 10 feet below. It, also, had a log railing on one side only, which in places arched away from the bridge.

I’ve always had a fear of heights. When I was nine, my father had to peel me off the second landing of a fire tower because I was screaming and clinging to the steel grate step in terror. I never overcame my acrophobia.

On the first bridge I was fine. I felt secure on the wooden planks. But stepping on a narrow log with moss growing on it was another story.

While my sweet hubby was too busy taking pictures of this historic event to be of any help should I fall into the rushing stream below and knock myself out on a rock, I focused on a point on the log about three feet in front of me, put one hiking boot in front of the other, used my walking stick for balance, and counted my steps aloud. And, of course, ignored Shutterbug behind me.

Baby steps

“Don’t look down!” Dean told me. I didn’t. He took this picture.

Then we came to the second footlog—green with moss, gray with age and missing chunks of wood—scarier than the first one. Using my focus and counting technique and ignoring the fear, I made it across, even though the couple behind us turned back when the woman refused to cross it.

The second footlog. Notice the wood missing and how the railing arches away from the walkway.

Halfway across! Notice how well I am concentrating.

The third (and nice) footlog

The third footlog looked newer, like it had just been built. It should have been a piece of cake by then, but I was still scared.

I wasn’t any less afraid crossing the footlogs on the return trip as I had been going up.

But I learned something. No, I didn’t overcome my fear—I walked through it.

We all set out on a trail called life. It goes up and down, winds over rocky and smooth terrain. Along the way we encounter our fears.

But we don’t have to turn back. We don’t have to overcome our fear, either—indeed, sometimes you can’t.

Made it!

But by taking one step at a time, focusing on what’s just ahead, using God’s Word for balance, and having faith in what’s at the end of your journey, you can walk through it.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? From You, Father God, the maker of the mountains and my guide through this hike called life. Amen.

Read and reflect on Psalm 121.

Michele Huey

Tag: mountains

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Footlogs and Phobias

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