Notes from the Mountaintop
We just got back from spending three days in Estes Park Colorado, and it was restorative, restful, and all the things a vacation should be. As I’m writing this, I’m watching Funny Face in a plane at 37,000 feet and climbing, but two days ago, I was standing on a mountain peak 12,304 feet above sea level looking out at valleys carved by years and glaciers. It was freezing, the wind about blew me over, and we both struggled a bit breathing because of the altitude change. The view was well worth it.
I debated which way to go with this post, because there are lots of lessons and metaphors connected to mountains, but they’ve all been done several times over with people who have more eloquent words than I. We could talk about the different perspective and getting a glimpse into just how small we are, little bitty toy cars driving through the mountains, or we could talk about how things aren’t always perfect in your mountain top moments like my husband getting mild altitude sickness from that climb and not feeling good the rest of the day.
All of those things have gone through my head the past couple days as we’ve gotten to explore this beautiful place, but the one thing that keeps coming back is how much and how quickly everything changes before you notice. When you’re going up from the entrance of Rocky Mountain National Park to the peak we stood on, the temperature drops about twenty degrees, but you don’t really notice it until you’re standing near the top.
Life can change rapidly, something we’ve all become very familiar with the past few years. But some of the biggest changes take place gradually, so gradually that you don’t really notice until several years and decisions later. If someone were to ask me if where my life is now matched up to my answer to the “where do you see yourself five-years-from-now” question I gave five years ago, the answer would be a resounding no, and I have never been so grateful to be wrong. Five years ago, I was in the middle of climbing my own metaphorical mountain, and I never would have guessed any of the blessings that were waiting for me along the way. I’m far happier than 20-year-old me in the middle of going through all the hard things could have pictured.
Sometimes while you’re going through the hard things and doing the even harder work to try to change it, it feels like starting from the very bottom of the mountain. Unfortunately, there are no shortcuts, no roads that’ll take most of the way through it so we can do the last bit on our own. It’s all an uphill, on foot battle. But one day you’ll look back, and the journey may not all make sense, but it’ll be what got you to where you are.
Keep going even when it gets hard and your feet get tired. The trip to the top will be rough, and it’s not all perfect once you get there, but it’s worth it.
