God, you placed
us here—on this block,
on this patch of shared earth,
among these alleys and sidewalks,
among many who are lights in this world. You’ve called
us not just to love, but to live
among love—
as we wave to the person walking by, linger on the
front porch over a cup of tea,
and admit we don’t have it all together—again. But something
sacred happens in the rhythm of neighborliness.
I am reminded I do not carry this alone. I think of how
roots intertwine underground,
how trees growing side-by-side
brace one another against storm winds,
how strength is in numbers. This community—
these ones who have walked beside us for many years, who share a cup
of sugar, who buy the
lemonade at the stand from the kid on the block,
who remember our kids’ birthdays and important events, who stay up late
to worry with us and to pray for miracles, who risk vulnerability,
who ask how we’re really doing—
they are the structure beneath our fragile days. So, God, when I
forget what a gift it is
to live right here, right now, remind me: The ordinary
and extraordinary love of this
street
is an embarrassment of riches and is pure
grace. Blessed is this
neighborhood,
this patchwork of kindness,
this underground web of roots—
quietly, steadily connecting us. We grow
stronger not apart,
but together here in this messy life together. Held in God’s
mercy and love here in this time and space,
we are nourished, supported, held—
not despite our need,
but because of it. And so
together, we are more
deeply rooted in love. Amen.
Below is part of a letter I wrote to Taylor yesterday morning reflecting on our time this week hiking:
"First of all, I want
to reflect on the time that we had as we sat overlooking the views at Dragontail yesterday afternoon and the mountains beyond mountains. I sat there and was
overcome with awe and gratitude, and I motioned for you to come and sit with me
as we had sat together overlooking the sunset at Hidden Lake Lookout. As we sat
together at Dragontail, I said the words, “Thank you.” It had a double
meaning. One was a prayer that was to God—thank you for this life, for the
unbelievable gift of being in such beauty, for the time with you. And the
second was meant for you- thank you for being YOU and for your uncanny ability
to coach me up that mountain. When I said I could imagine you being an ER
doctor, I was thinking back to you telling me exactly what to do when I was on
the ice field. “Mom, watch my feet. Just one step at a time. Put your ice ax in
first, then your pole, and then plant your feet. Don’t look anywhere except watching
my feet. You got this. You are crushing this.” I was never nervous because you
were with me, and you were so grounded that it made me feel grounded. Whether it is that you end up doing down the
road, I just want you to know I see in you such a strength, courage, and beauty
that you are able to give to others, and it is amazing."
Jason and Taylor had been eyeing Dragontail Peak for quite a while, and yesterday we finally made it happen—with Taylor's friend Jackson (from UCSC) joining us for the adventure. We were incredibly grateful to have a cozy place to crash at Rachel and Jim Clifton’s house in Leavenworth. Their home made the perfect basecamp after our late arrival from hiking Hibox Mountain the day before, and before our early start the next morning.
We set off from the Stuart Lake trailhead, made our way to Colchuck Lake, then climbed up the infamous Asgard Pass, and finally pushed on to summit Dragontail Peak. From there, Taylor and Jackson kept up the momentum, running and hiking all the way through the Enchantments—covering 21 miles and about 6,600 feet of elevation gain.
Meanwhile, Jason and I descended back down Asgard Pass since we had left one of the cars at the trailhead—a 15-mile day for us, though somehow, we ended up with more elevation gain (6,800 feet). A wrong turn partway down sent us climbing again for a bit—oops. Though our route was shorter, it took us significantly longer. Navigating the steep and loose terrain of Asgard Pass on the descent took a lot of time and caution. We ended up hiking into the night, which was definitely fits into the category of type two fun.
All in all, it was a challenging, beautiful, and unforgettable day in the mountains. What an AWESOME (in every sense of that word) adventure!
treats for the trail (Abba, we took this picture in your honor as we know you love these!)
Taylor said this blessing to me before we left each other. There's nothing quite like having him say this back to us after having said it to him for two decades now and then to think about the words so deeply when we were hiking in the dark later that night: "may he guide you through the wilderness." Giving praise to God that He does indeed guide us through the wilderness!
back down Aasgard--oh the adventure and tired legs that lay ahead
after we got off the trail for a while on Asgard Pass- I was hugging the cairns :)
sunset over Asgard Pass
Even with two river crossings and a few times that we had to check the trail as we had gotten off track, let me just say that while we were slow and steady, we were a good team navigating the dark.
Jason came across a wild trail called Hibox Mountain and quickly added it to our growing list of adventures for the summer. One trail report described it as having “a map-measured grade of 47 degrees”—steeper than Asgard Pass and the Old Mailbox trail, and comparable to the Kamikaze route on Mount Teneriffe. In Taylor’s words, parts of the climb were simply “hectic.” And he wasn’t wrong—the final mile alone climbs over 3,000 feet! Still, the trail didn’t disappoint. It was a true test of stamina and grit, rewarded by absolutely stunning views at the summit. All in all, 8 miles and around 4,000 feet of elevation gain made for one unforgettable day on Monday.
Hibox Mountain where we were headed for the day
here we come!
Lake Katchess in the distance
Rachel Lake behind us
a scramble to the top
T.B.S. - "Tactical Butt Scootch" - Taylor taught me to perfect this move. :)
