Dad, I have a question...

Have you ever experienced a moment that you think is going to be profound? The time is right. The atmosphere is primed. And you just know this moment is going to hold some deep meaning, far beyond the moment itself. I just had one.

I was tucking the boys into bed while Carissa is at Flavour 2010. We've had a great night as just the boys. We ordered pizza. Played a little hoops. Even got in some video game time. Just hung out.

And as I kissed Parker good night and turned to walk out of his room, he stopped me.

"Dad?"

Yes, P?

"I have a question I've been thinking about that I just can't answer..." (Those were his exact words.)

Now, let me explain something. Parker is the one of our two boys who will drop some seriously deep questions on you when you least expect it. He's the one who contemplates the most difficult aspects of life, spirituality and the meaning of it all...in his seven year old way, of course.

So when he stopped me tonight with that question, I was poised and ready to tackle another philosophical discussion or theological conversation about what God might look like or how it's possible for Jesus to be physically alive in heaven right now (both of which I've had with him at some point).

"I have a question I've been thinking about that I just can't answer..."

Yes, P?

"Just how can you defeat the final Bowser on Super Mario Bros.?"

I wanted to write tonight...

I wanted to write tonight. Nothing too big; nothing life changing. Just...write. But honestly, I don't feel like writing anymore. And as I think about that, I can't help but think of a blog post by Michael Hyatt . It's actually written by P.J. O'Rourke. But it pretty much nails it.

"Usually, writers will do anything to avoid writing. For instance, the previous sentence was written at one o’clock this afternoon. It is now a quarter to four. I have spent the past two hours and forty-five minutes sorting my neckties by width, looking up the word “paisly” in three dictionaries, attempting to find the town of that name on The New York Times Atlas of the World map of Scotland, sorting my reference books by width, trying to get the bookcase to stop wobbling by stuffing a matchbook cover under its corner, dialing the telephone number on the matchbook cover to see if I should take computer courses at night, looking at the computer ads in the newspaper and deciding to buy a computer because writing seems to be so difficult on my old Remington, reading an interesting article on sorghum farming in Uruguay that was in the newspaper next to the computer ads, cutting that and other interesting articles out of the newspaper, sorting—by width—all the interesting articles I’ve cut out of newspapers recently, fastening them neatly together with paper clips and making a very attractive paper clip necklace and bracelet set, which I will present to my girlfriend as soon as she comes home from the three-hour low-impact aerobic workout that I made her go to so I could have some time alone to write.”

— P. J. O’Rourke

I Wonder...Do You Know Him?

I want to climb mountains

My desire to stand on top of some of the highest points on earth isn't new. It's something that has been building in me for the last 2 years or so. In reality, it's probably been boiling under the surface even longer than that. But recently, it's become what some might call an obsession. (Just talk to my bride for a list of books I've read, websites I've visited and people I've talked to about this whole thing.)

Most people who are into mountaineering start their love for the peaks at a very early age. I'm not at a "very early age." Of course, I'm not decrepit either. So I've got that going for me. But my love for the mountains is no less real than that of someone who grew up staring at one from the back porch. My approach and timing may just be different.

Now, for those of you who live in or near the mountains, you'll undoubtedly think, "Why not just start climbing?" But when you live in a place where the highest elevation is the roof of a structure made of steel and glass, there's a lot of thought about climbing that happens before you actually get to climb. And there's a lot of living that happens beforehand too.

For those who have been climbing as long as they can remember, they probably spent their teens and 20s pushing the limits, testing themselves beyond the point of intelligence. I don't have that luxury. I've lived long enough to have some of those edges of naivete chipped away. I know I have limits. I also know that my dreams affect more than just me.

I have a wife and two young sons. I have friends and family who count on me. I'm not going to run off to the wilderness and pretend that my life would be better if I could just climb the Devil's Thumb or scale the north face of the Eiger.

I live in the real world. So when I finally do have the opportunity and availability to climb, I won't be stupid. I won't knowingly put myself in positions that jeopordize what God has blessed me with.

However...

I want to climb mountains. And inherent within that desire is the expectation that I will take risks. I plan on pushing the limits of my physical abilities and testing myself when and where I can. I think my bride understands that. In fact, I know she does because she hopes to be on those mountains with me.

But as I think about it, I think it's crucial to do that in any aspect of life. It's vital in order to feel alive. And I think that's true for anyone, whatever they want to do.

I want to climb mountains. But before I ever make it to the summit of a large pile of rocks, I want every day to become a new mountain, a new adventure, a new summit I strive to reach.