Nature is sublime, beautiful, and dispassionate, and does not care about our struggle. I stood looking out from the parapet of a 15th Century castle in Central Scotland when this idea occurred to me. The hilltop fortress overlooked miles of dramatic hills and merciless cliffs. The dying evening light filtered through the brooding overcast making the grass look dark teal. Charcoal black stone tore out of the turf across the brooding landscape leaving dark and menacing craigs dozens of feet tall. A beautiful and terrifying terrain. When visiting one’s home country, where familial blood once flowed through the rivers and valleys, where the hills and countryside crafted the genetics of one’s bloodline over centuries and where the breeze still echoes one’s family name, it is not uncommon to feel a sense of belonging, but this was not my experience. I felt a sort of awe and connection to the land my family walked on, but as in the United States where I was born, I did not feel wholly at home. The freezing wind of late January burned my eyes and violently whipped my windbreaker hood across my back. I imagined that the minor discomfort of my stinging eyes would have been the least of worries to my Scottish ancestors who toiled to survive in this brutal and unrelenting landscape. I turned my back on the piercing wind to shield my now watering eyes and when I dried and reopened them, I was looking at a cemetery that seemed to stretch without end across a valley on the south side of the castle. Centuries of wind, rain, and ice gnawed away the epitaphs of the tombstones leaving no memory of who was buried beneath them. I imagined that this same cruel climate beat on the bodies of my ancient relatives, wearing them away just as it wore their names from the rock. Nature is a bountiful life giver, but she is equally a cold, emotionless mistress. No matter how virtuous or wretched a man is, she does not discriminate and will always reward him in the same way, with death. The kings who ruled over this castle and the peasants who lived outside of its walls ultimately ended up in the same place, six feet below nameless tombs. Christ says “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6: 19-21). Instead of investing in a finite and temporary world that will soon forget our names and wash them from our tombstones, Our Lord tells us to focus our hearts and minds on His eternal kingdom where moth and rust cannot destroy, and where thieves cannot break in and steal. He is preparing a place for us in his heavenly kingdom, while on earth, nature wears on our bodies, breaks bones and ages flesh. It will not be long until this fortress, much like the tombstones, is reclaimed by nature and its memory is lost to time. The saints tell us to be joyful, to enjoy our time immersed in God’s creation and to fulfill the earthly mission He has laid out for us, but much like the field of eroded tombstones, Christ’s words are a reminder that this place is not our home, we are not meant for this world, and we are only pilgrims, passing through, on our way toward His everlasting and unchanging kingdom.