“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.” (Psalm 121:1 KJV)

I spent most of the spring and summer months working from home except a few “in office” days. I normally spend several summer weeks in other places. With those events cancelled or moved online, I began to get “cabin fever.” As a single person, I saw mostly myself, my three cats, and the view from my home. With a vacation out of the question, a day trip where safe social distances could be maintained offered a solution. Last week I fueled my car and drove to Asheville, about 90 minutes away. I stopped at a fast food chicken restaurant for a “picnic lunch” and headed north on the Blue Ridge Parkway. As I stopped at the first overlook, I marveled at the breathtaking scene before me. As I pondered events necessitating my need to get away, I realized God brought me to this place to remind me to lift my eyes to Him. The previous week, library colleagues and faculty members questioned what we would do if students returned to campus with the present virus spread level, I told them we “trust in God.” However, God knew I needed a fresh reminder in my own life of this simple truth. The panorama before me was soothing to both my eyes and to my spirit.

“For with thee is the fountain of life: In thy light shall we see light.” (Psalm 36:9 KJV)

I have spent a lot of time reflecting on suffering and death lately. As some of you know, my daughter suffers from a chronic, potentially fatal condition, and the year 2020 started for me with the death of my mother in January, followed by a February struggling to help my family come to grips with the suicide of my young nephew.

“God said, “Let there be light.” And so light appeared. God saw how good the light was. God separated the light from the darkness. God named the light Day and the darkness Night.” (Genesis 1:3-5 CEB)

I am not a morning person. I would like to be a morning person, and I occasionally feel really good and productive when I rise early, but generally speaking, I am simply not a morning person. But for one glorious week in November, I became a morning person at the Wesleyan-Holiness Digital Library (WHDL) development team meeting. What compelled me to get up in the morning was the glorious sunrise, one of the many beauties of God’s created world.

“. . .To those who are called, beloved in God the Father and kept for Jesus Christ: . . .” (Jude 1 ESV)

Librarians are not strangers to uncertainty. For at least a generation, developments in technology have raised serious questions about how the future of the library, and the library of the future, will look. Further, sweeping industry changes leave most librarians facing serious concerns about the future of their departments, if not their institutions. Given that uncertainty has long been so pervasive, why do we still yearn for certainty?