Cattle on a Thousand Hills

Something deep within my heart longs for beauty in a way that I never realized when I lived in Texas. I didn't have time for flowers and sunsets as I was always running late for work at the hospital. I wasn't as aware of nature, the smell of the air after a rain, or the absence of anything green.
Although the last census was inconclusive, we have heard that the city where we live is home to about 1 million people. It is not large in size, so we are packed in here real friendly-like. I love my home, but after 2 years in the village, I can feel myself getting restless after a week of the horn-honking and dog-barking that is the background noise of life in Jos.
Yesterday Tim and I traveled to a beautiful village not far from our home where several years ago, another missionary started a school for Fulani children in his backyard. The school has since grown to such an extent that a team is coming from abroad to build a new dorm/school for the many children who are boarding there. Tim is supervising the preparations for the project, and I went along to help with medical assessments for these precious kids. We arrived while they were in class, and I was very impressed with these young children's comprehension of English. Divided into 3 classrooms, each with one small chalk board, a few chairs, and fewer tables, the children shared seats and were quiet and courteous as their Fulani teachers spoke with us. Very shy, I caught them sneaking glances at us, then quickly diverting their eyes when I would wave or wink at them. Then ripples of giggling and so many whispers to their friends.
I meandered behind the school, drawn by the green pastures and fields of maize planted in tidy rows. Far in the distance was a grove of palm trees, and my mind went back to Hawaii, to our 5th Anniversary vacation that feels like a previous life. "Where are you going?" Tim hollered after me as I ventured out to the palms. I had to be among them, to hear the sound of the breeze through those branches, and to know for sure if that grove might feel as out of place as it looked. I was richly rewarded for my effort! As I approached the trees and slowly turned back toward the school, my breath caught in my throat. Behind the school lay a cluster of mountains, large hills really, that were green with new growth. Several waterfalls cascaded through the cracks of the hills, forming pools that I could not see from where I stood. The breeze was cool on my face, and the unmistakable cadence of wind through the palms calmed my beating heart. But the best part of all was the valley separating me from those encompassing hills, dotted all over by herds of plump Fulani cows feasting on the long grasses. Shepherd boys eyed me curiously, but I smiled and greeted in my broken Fulfulde until they were forced to smile at my ignorance. These are the people that we love, the reason why we live here, and they were flourishing in this beautiful place. As I reluctantly ambled back to the school, I breathed a prayer of gratitude for them to my Father, who owns the cattle on a thousand hills.