I want to be a rally car driver when I grow up. I figured this out yesterday evening when I was precariously navigating my rented Hyundai down McKenzie Pass in Oregon's Cascade Mountain Range. Hugging the edge and leaning with the car around each hairpin turn, I found myself laughing out loud. No 90 second rollercoaster ride could compare to 40 miles of this.
I'm often so disappointed in my travels whenever I encounter something beautiful or wonderful because my family isn't always there to share the experience. This time, however, I was glad I was alone. I could feel Traci's fingernails digging into my arm and hear her voice saying, "For the love of God and the sake of your offspring, slow down!" Ok, maybe not in those words, but you get the idea. (When she reads this, I'll get chewed out fro sure.) The road eventually straightened out and then I got the chance to really look at the fall colors of vivid yellow and red. The forest looked to be on fire with this near fluorescent hue of yellow weaving throughout the green pines. This is a beauty that makes Texas look like Afghanistan. With the window down the smell of fresh cool mountain air filled the car. In this country, those pine scented air fresheners are a pointless accessory. The wooden covered bridges spanning the rushing river added to the ambience of a wilderness where one fully expects an elk to wander onto the highway.
I have a difficult service coming up at church this weekend. This stress buster was a true gift from God, and I am grateful. Being Wednesday night around 7pm, I came upon a little church where the service was just about to begin. I stepped in and listened to the hymns, sat in on a study in the book of Daniel, and met Mr. Snyder. Mr. Snyder was 86 and one of the most fascinating people I've ever seen. He was a sharp, muscular, lumberjack who looked nothing like his age. He had worked the woods felling trees the old fashioned way. He loved the woods and spoke of men clearing out the dead timber in such a way that you wouldn't even know they had been there. He spoke of watching trees as tall as a skyscraper and 14 around come tumbling down with care and precision. He told of his sadness when he watches the lumber trucks come down the highway with 'twigs' instead of the massive timber he used to see. He laughs and his wide smile shines in his eyes as he talks of having to go home to shoo the elk off his back porch. The pastor, a Mr. Boyd, is a hunter and talks of doe season opening up soon. I stand in the circle, a welcomed foreigner, and I'm fascinated. Pastor Boyd prayed with me before I left, and I wandered out into the parking lot surrounded by the darkness of the woods and the cold air, yet feeling very light and warm within.