Earlier this week my wonderful husband suggested that we all take a day off. As a family. No phones, no computers, no cords of any kind.
We said, "YES!" and this morning we headed to Eagle Creek in Bonneville, Oregon. It was glorious.
(Although Little Miss Avery Kate wasn't so sure about the exertion required to make the trek.)
Following in Bethie's wake, I was transported back about 25 years. I was once again hiking behind my ten year old sister, Krista, with Johnny and our little dachshund Herbie racing ahead . . . Dad clicking pictures and drawing our attention to trail markers . . . Mom gathering huckleberries for pancakes . . . .
(I still find myself calling Bethie "Krista" every once in a while. It's a happy mistake.)
And now I've birthed a new set of sisters. I love my girlies. Just love them so much.
And then there are boys. Boys have a thing for rocks. The bigger, the better.
See what I mean?
Cuteness at Punchbowl Falls.
Drew, while dreaming of rafting down the creek, settles for wading.
My peeps. My favorite peeps.
(Did I mention that boys have a thing for rocks?)
This is one of the most beautiful hikes I have ever taken. The forest floor is carpeted with dainty mosses, bleeding heart, maidenhair ferns and miner's lettuce. I draw the little ones near, pointing out the delicate blossoms. Around the bend I face the roar of the fierce rapids, the sway of the mighty evergreens, and the plunging depths which leave me dizzy (and in prayer). I draw the little ones near, grasping their hands, keeping them close.
I catch my breath. Once I'm safely planted on a rock, with my chicks safely pecking among the pebbles, I think of Mr. Beaver describing Aslan: "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good."
No, it's not safe. But I would never choose to avoid it. Because it's good. It's a feast for the eyes and a balm to the soul.
Turns out this day was just what I needed. It wasn't safe, but it was good. My heart is full.