Some 30 years ago, I plunged into the freezing water at the base of this waterfall, Laurel Falls in the Tennessee Smoky Mountains. I was only eight, see, and although I was pretty confident I’d mastered the art of “rock jumping” (crossing a stream or river by jumping on rocks), on that day I slipped, the rocks won, and I plunged into the icy water. I was cold, really cold. Unfortunately a dry change of clothes and our minivan were at the trailhead, 1.3 miles away, and the air temperature was about 35 degrees.
(It should be noted that my folks come from the “just let him touch the hot stove, he’ll learn” school of parenting.)
My dad pulled me from the water and we raced back down the trail to our minivan, dodging bears and falling rocks and frostbite and narrowly avoiding death. (At least that’s how I remember it.)
This weekend I returned, along with my parents, wife (Abby), two oldest sons (Thomas – five, and Arthur – three; 9-month-old John Lloyd elected to stay home with Abby’s parents), and my niece and nephew (Rebecca and Matthew). It was glorious.
The path to the Falls is neither as treacherous nor as long as eight-year-old me remembered, but it afforded breathtaking views of the Smoky Mountains.
There is something indescribably special about watching a little boy embark upon an adventure. Thomas, our oldest (age five), transformed before our eyes. Everywhere he looked were rocks to climb, trails to blaze, dangers to encounter. He was talking a mile a minute, wide-eyed and giddy and pointing at every pile of rocks along the path. “DAD DAD DAD CAN I CLIMB THAT . . .”
(Thomas, mountaineer.)
We reached the Falls at the top, and this time no one fell in. Even Arthur made it to the top, mostly without being carried.
This weekend was so special in ways that are difficult to put into words. Stopping on the hiking trail to look out at the mountains all around us, my family by my side, the worries and stresses of this world faded away. All was right with the world.
Too often I find myself yearning for something that seems frustratingly out of reach – a simpler way of life and more time with my family and finding joy in just being together. As a Christian I believe that these longings are there for a reason. They point to eternity. I know my soul will never find true satisfaction or rest or joy in this life because its truest and deepest desire is to find rest and peace and joy with the Lord in eternity. But I believe God occasionally gives us weekends like this one to give us a small taste of eternity.
