Dear Friends,
A few weeks ago, my wife Krystal and I took a short camping trip to the small town of Nordegg, Alberta. Our two children have been serving at Camp Chestermere as Camp Counsellors for the summer, and as such during the week, it has just been Krystal and I. To answer your question, yes, we have been enjoying our time alone together.
The weather was beautiful, and we had never really gone away by ourselves since we became a family of four. I thought it would be nice to re-connect and get away for a few days. The campground was serene. The sounds of the creek were behind us, and the birds flew above. The silence spoke for itself. It was wonderful.
After a few days of 37C (98 F) heat, the weather had cooled down a bit. Krystal loves to hike, and I had heard of this mountain nearby called Coliseum Mountain. After we did some research, we decided it seemed attainable at our current levels of fitness, so we prepared with light snacks and a lot of water and made the short drive to the trail head. You would think that one of us would have noticed the body language of the people descending the mountain, but we were too delighted to be embarking on the journey, so neither of us noticed their obviously tired appearance. Hindsight is always 20/20.
The journey up was filled with switchback after switchback. Endless zigzagged paths. The glimpses of the valley took our breath away almost as much as the challenging climb did! Not that the climb itself necessarily was challenging, but it seemed endless. When we reached the first lookout, we stopped for a break and enjoyed the rocky outcropping with the view. We stayed for 15 minutes, giving our puppy-and ourselves-a break. After three hours of switchbacks, we finally reached what we thought was the summit. The view of the Coliseum ridge was beautiful. The "payoff" was worth it. And then we looked to the right and saw another summit. The actual summit.
Krystal passionately mentioned that she was good-she didn't need to reach that summit. But I know her. She would be disappointed in herself for not pushing to reach the top. And let's be honest; I wanted to conquer that mountain.
Another hour later, after walking across the exposed ridge during the heat of the day and finally, ascending the peak, which happened to be the steepest part of the climb, we reached the summit! It was pure bliss. We hugged each other and tried to take a smiling "selfie." We gulped down our water, sat down and enjoyed the view. The air was crisp and clean, and the view of the valley and fellow mountain peaks was such a display of God's creation. We thanked the Lord and after an extended time of silence, decided it was time to journey back down in to the valley.
You might think that the journey down was less intense, and in some ways it was. But the descent woke up new muscles, and the trailhead seemed to be ever increasing in distance. We found ourselves remembering, and yearning for, the flowers in the valley, the mini waterfall and refreshingly cool stream, the protection from the sun by the lush tall trees, the encouragement of fellow mountain climbers and hikers, the peace found in the valley, our hammocks and awaiting dinner!
And then it came to me. Although mountain top experiences are exhilarating, life really is lived in the valley.
Don't get me wrong, I love the mountaintop, but it takes a lot of work to get there. You must remember to pack more than enough water and nutritionally rich snacks. You have to mentally and physically prepare for the ascent. And then you actually have to do it.
Although mountain tops are exhilarating and life giving, that kind of work is not sustainable on a daily basis. Mountain top experiences aren't an everyday thing, are they? But the valley? That is where life is lived. It's where we are privileged to engage with others. It's where the kids run and play. It's where the lakes and rivers meet. It's where we share a meal with one another and learn of each other's stories. And most importantly, in my experience, it's where we regularly and richly experience an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ.
I think that perhaps life in the valley prepares us for the climb up the mountain. And the valley is where we can form a deep relationship with our Creator. The mountaintop challenges us and stretches the relationship.
I love my life in the valley: the beauty, complexity and simplicity of it. And I remain thankful for the timely reminder that life isn't lived on the mountaintops, it really is lived in the valley.
Blessings to you as you live in your valley,
Todd Wawrzyniak
