Peaks of Retreat

The summer season is upon us and Alaskan days are warm, bright, and long. As I was reading Donald Miller's, Blue Like Jazz at 11:30 last night, I had to pull the blinds down to keep the brilliant daylight out my eyes; there’s nothing like the midnight sun…

Yesterday, Toby took our pup, Abbey, for a walk up to Flattop Mountain and across the trails to the second peak. A couple of guys from the Air Force base joined him and together they climbed passed the point where green grasses give way to snow-covered trails. At one point, they were within 10 feet of a momma black bear and two, infant cubs the size of 5 lb sugar bags. Tiny and curious, these little creatures were already climbing in trees and exploring their new world of scents and sounds.

It is an ethereal experience to climb above the world and look down on oceans, rivers, glaciers, volcanoes, and distant peaks. From here, you can see hundreds of miles West toward the Pacific Ocean, and North toward the tallest mountains in North America. The higher one rises, the more faint life's troubles become. The jeweled city below becomes a hazy memory of reality and one’s entire world is swallowed up in the magnitude of clear air and captivating views.

Wherever we live, we must always find a place where we can rise above our world; a place where we can retreat, to slow down and breathe deeply. Like a welcome oasis in an expansive desert, these places offer solace from the stress of life and the rush of mundane commitments. They give us the opportunity to withdraw and see our world in a new and fresh perspective. They allow us to feel strong again and make our struggles grow faint.

Perhaps this lofty retreat is a city park, a sidewalk restaurant, or simply the big oak in the backyard. Wherever it is, we must find our way to it as frequently as we can.

For in this peak of retreat, we find the strength, insight, and courage to come back down the mountain and rejoin our world once again.