Right now, a few hours from where we live, there is a little cabin that sits in the high country. Right outside the front door of this quaint abode, the river is presently roaring, the flowers are in full bloom, and there is lush foliage providing a canopy of shade over a lazy hammock that sways between two tall pines. The cabin sits quietly today; yesterday, it's walls were bursting with the sounds of little boys laughing and shooting their toy rifles. Yesterday, the boys and the men were down the river, fishing and breathing in deeply the mountain air. Yesterday, the campfire right outside smoldered while a mother and her only daughter exchanged previously unspoken words and stories. The wheat was separated from the chaff, and new beginnings were created around the glowing embers. All that mattered returned with us from the high country. Today, we're back home and my parents are on a plane that will take them a few states away again. What a privilege it is to experience the seasons so lushly displayed in God's handiwork in nature...and his handiwork in family all the more.