Taking Time

Loveland Pass TrailThis is the very first guest post by Heather, my wife. Yay! (She wrote it back in August.)

It’s 100 degrees this August day in Den­ver. The school year has started at a time that feels way too early. Our family’s get­ting cheated out of beau­ti­ful days in the moun­tains, and togeth­er­ness around camp­fires. Sum­mer is not over yet! The nar­row win­dow of warm sum­mer moun­tain days has not closed.

Busy” has started for every­one but me, and I am alone. What a rare place to find myself. I head rebel­liously to the moun­tains for a hike. I want to see the exotic col­ors of “the best show of wild­flow­ers in years.” I’m pulled in, deter­mined to soak in the beauty, alone or not. I park and start walk­ing. A short dis­tance later, I leave the for­est and the car­pet of wild­flow­ers behind and trudge along alpine tun­dra, pass­ing lit­tle springs flow­ing from melt­ing snow­fields. The sun flashes sil­ver and sparkly on an emer­ald alpine lake. Mas­sive, intim­i­dat­ing and stun­ningly beau­ti­ful peaks sur­round me on all sides.

I am small in the vast silence. I see how big God is. I speak, but no human hears. My voice and foot­steps fall like a tiny drop of rain in the ocean, but the sound reas­sures me. I’m a lit­tle scared. I sit, read, and think, let­ting a fresh breeze blow away the stale and the stuck in my mind. The sun has moved, the clouds are gath­er­ing. It’s time to go back down. Things look dif­fer­ent going this direc­tion. I feel invig­o­rated and happy. This heart-pumping day has changed me. Life among moun­tains always does.

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The Waterfall

This post is an exper­i­ment with the plu­gin called “Apture”. (They left out the “e” when they were spelling its name.)

Any­how, this also marks my very first ever embed­ded video. I always avoided doing that because I had friends in Nairobi who had very low band­width. But these days, very few of them visit this blog — so I’m adding a video for the rest of you.

Update: I’d sug­gest click­ing through to the blip.tv link — and even then, it’s pretty jit­tery. Apolo­gies.

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We nearly died

nearly-died

Heather and I just got back from a long week­end. We cel­e­brated our twenty years of mar­riage! That’s noth­ing short of a mir­a­cle, in today’s world.

On Sat­ur­day we hiked up the face of one of the Maroon Bells, a moun­tain near Aspen. Our goal was to have lunch at a water­fall I had seen signs of but never been to.

Not pos­si­ble. The face was so sheer that there was no place for us to sit to have lunch! I was cling­ing to a rock while I took this photo. Heather was debat­ing how to get back down to a safer place to descend.

In the end, we were thank­ful that we sur­vived. (I’m being a lit­tle overly-dramatic, but we wouldn’t hike up there again, even though it was quite beau­ti­ful.)

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On the way up?

on-way-up

In these tur­bu­lent times, many are focused on whether they are going up or down. In your life, career, mar­riage, the stock mar­ket, what­ever.

I cer­tainly don’t know — for you or for me. Obvi­ously we do need to keep a sense of opti­mism. But the one thing I do know is that I have to keep trust­ing God — the only rock I cling to.

By the way, I took this shot of my two boys on their way toward the sum­mit of Red­cloud Peak, last week — 14,034 feet above sea level. I was so proud of them — no com­plaints the whole way. Jay even car­ried my day pack and his too! They both ran cir­cles around me.

As most peo­ple do, we also climbed Sun­shine Peak — Colorado’s low­est 14’er at 14,001’. The hike between the two peaks was noth­ing to be sneezed at — that added about three hours to our day’s exer­cise.

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