When you are in the valley, pay attention, for the manner of your answer may be received there.

Why then do we avoid the valleys? Kick and scream in uncertainty? If all we see are the perils, the rotten crags, we may miss the rope to climb the mountain.

I by no means set forth to come down that ridge. I hold onto the teetering edge kicking all the way down when maybe I should just let go. There is a different perspective when you are in the valley looking up at those cliffs.

Sometimes the cold lies across the shadow, and I lie there caught between the living and the dead… and it is tempting to lay there instead of embracing the hope to climb out again.

The unfathomable heights creep upward but there is a stillness in the valley—in the gathering darkness—a tremendous silence…a “no sound.”

It is there that the wondrous seems to widen, that the rift disappears, and faith calls and my heart fills with deepening expectation, and I am speechless.

Little by little the darkness fades, and the slope seems to slacken, and I can feel the soft earth beneath my feet. My pace may be soft, and still I may fear pitfalls along my way, but the walk is no longer blind, and I am no longer swallowed up by the darkness.

In that instance great thundering clouds sound like music playing, and my slow steps become thunderous strides, and I am no longer battered by terror, but blazing with the sweet melody thundering in new strength.

Yes, in the valley all may seem cold and you may feel weak, but walk on undismayed, for soon the star will rise and the tranquil moon will appear and radiant portals and scattering rosy brightness that was never before.

May your eyes follow them.

May the melody mount.

May you crave the sweet night, catch your breath in the silence, and may we all rise above the valleys to the great galleries above.