The Great Outdoors
Our daughter Banks and I had been on the road for six days. She was 12 years old at the time, and she endured the doldrums of long driving spells like a seasoned long-haul driver. That’s not to say our journey had been without excitement. Quite the opposite. We tried to summit Mount Rogers, the highest peak in Va. We conquered Mount Mitchell and Sassafras Mountain, the highest peaks in N.C. and S.C., respectively. And we hiked headlong up the steepest trail we had ever been on at Bald Mountain, Ga. which is the Peach State’s highest mountain.
We spent two days in Va. in a treehouse equipped only with a propane heater. It snowed two inches while we slumbered on the first night. The white blanket seemed cozy and inviting as we peeked out the windows, shivering at the thought of dancing through the undisturbed quilt of snow. We gently stepped, side by side, across the virgin snowfall so we could look back over our shoulders to see where our feet had fallen. “Some people spend their whole life looking back from where they came,” I remarked. “What do you mean?” the inquisitive 12-year-old asked. “I mean they live with regret. Regret for the mistakes they think they made or regret because things aren’t like they used to be.” I made air quotation gestures with my fingers. She nodded her head with understanding. “It’s hard, though, to keep your eyes on Jesus if you are always looking back, isn’t it?” I didn’t necessarily expect an answer to my rhetorical question, so I was somewhat surprised when she said “yes” in response. “Is that why we’re climbing all these mountains?” she continued. Puzzled at her remark, I ask for a more detailed explanation. She stopped kicking the snow with her toes and looked up at me. “I mean, are we going to the highest mountain in each state so we can be closer to Jesus?” Her blue eyes peered straight into the hazel of my own as she dropped the tips of my fingers from the palm of her hand. “Sort of,” I responded. “We are not climbing them to get physically closer. Yes, heaven is up, but He is all around us already. We are climbing them because I know that from the top of these mountains, you will be much better able to see all that He created—and that will bring us closer to Him.” She paused for a moment and then quipped, “Seems like it might be easier to just look at pictures,” and then she laughed as she pulled away and scooped up a snowball.
A few days later, we stood atop Mount Sassafras in the middle of nowhere S.C. as the sun melted into the Great Smoky Mountains. The stars rose to our east, and the western sky shone orange across the haze of the blue Smoky. Banks leaned into my arm with her head and shoulder and wrapped her arm around my waist. She broke the silence of the sunset and said, “I get it, Dad. I get it.” “See what He did?” I asked. I felt her nod her head in my rib cage and thought the sunset was beautiful, but the moment was more so. And that’s why we go Shepherding Outdoors.
“For His invisible attributes, namely, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So, they are without excuse.” Romans 1:20
-Walt Merrell
A Christian Outdoorsman who writes of his adventures with his family, with the hope that others might be inspired and encouraged to embrace God’s tapestry, otherwise known as the great outdoors, as a means of finding Common Ground. You can follow him at Shepherding Outdoors on FB, YT and IG and at shepherdingoutdoors.com. His most recent book is available at shepherdingbook.com. Read his faith story at www.BirminghamChristian.com.
