Growing up in a small mountain town in Colorado, I always knew that I lived in a beautiful place. There was a breathtaking view of the mountains everywhere I turned, starting right outside the front door. Even still, once I left for college I realized how often I took these views for granted, and what an impact the mountains have made on my life.
Since leaving for college, I have a brand new appreciation for the priceless view of the Collegiate Peaks as I come down the pass into my hometown. I used to laugh at and mock the tourists on the side of the roads taking pictures of the mountains that I was privileged to see on a daily basis. These days, you could easily find me pulled up right beside them taking a picture of the exact same view.
I was undoubtedly blessed with the opportunity to grow up in such an amazingly beautiful place; but I think it may have taken me leaving to realize just how blessed I had been.
Mountain peaks such as the ones in Colorado have a massive, unfathomable beauty that I have found myself lost in trying to comprehend. I’ve realized just how small I am compared to these enormous places where God has pinched the earth. More than that, I have come to love how small I seem in their comparison. It's a therapeutic process; one in which I realize how trivial many of my problems are in the grand scheme of things.
Being belittled in life usually leaves one feeling defeated. But when you are being belittled by a mountain, the feelings are quite the opposite. It is both humbling and incredibly gratifying to know that while I may be nothing compared to the fourteen thousand foot peak I am on, I am capable enough to climb it — to appreciate what it has to offer and to grow from the experience.
Hiking a mountain, with my problems set aside, my only focus becomes climbing a little higher, pushing a little harder, adventuring a little further. Then, when I’m close to my limits, my body exhausted, I look up and out, suddenly feeling the strength return to my body as I take in view in front of me. Level with the clouds, I can see what seems to be the entire world. No amount of sweat or fatigue could take away from that feeling. It no longer matters who said what, about who, and for what reason. All the matters are the views, right then and there, simply because they can both captivate, yet at the same time free, the heart, mind, and soul.
It’s difficult to understand how such a cleansing experience can seem insignificant. How could I have experienced all of this before and never truly appreciated any of it? How could I allow such exceptional moments to become familiar? I took for granted that I could experience this every day if I wanted to. Until I no longer could. Until my best view was one of a cornfield across the street, I never realized the burning desire in me for the adrenaline rush that came with summiting a mountain, or with being surrounded by mountains, completely captivated by their natural, enormous beauty.
I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve learned to take a picture of every view that takes my breath away. I’ve learned to take full advantage of and soak in my time in the mountains. The point becomes short and sweet: Though the mountains may call, I cannot always go. But when I can, I will know that I am home.
