Under the Shadow of Denali
It's so wonderful to blog about the trip after you get home because it's kind of like reliving the trip, in a way. You get to reflect on it when all is said and done, and really think about the way it went.
We left Anchorage and drove to Denali National Park. The sky was so blue, Southwest blue, the color of the turquoise found in bracelets out here, that it was startling and almost oppressive. I hadn't expected it to be so hot or humid.
The roads up there have lower speed limits than the roads we have here so it felt like we didn't so much drive to Denali, we ambled. And I think it was a good thing. We stopped wherever we wanted. We took in the view again and again and again, and we watched as Denali loomed closer and closer, finally becoming clear in the distance, floating on that blue sky like a mirage or a dream or a reflection of something bigger than everything.
"That," JR said to me at one stop where we looked at it "is bigger than anything I've ever seen that's been made by a person." And indeed it was, towering over us, omnipresent in the way that only God's creation can.
After we got into the car I thought to myself, "It's good to be awed. It's healthy. We don't do it enough." I thought about what awe was, about awe as a transformative process. To be awed is to allow ourselves to be humbled and that's a tough thing to do. Humility, at it's core, is making ourselves lesser to become greater people and I don't want to be lesser. I struggle with that and it is a continual process I have learned to at least allow myself to be humbled by the experiences I have and the people I love, and yes, even the things I see.