God makes beautiful things for himself, whether we will ever find it. He paints and sculpts because he can, because he enjoys it. He creates just to store beauty. He curates gardens and fountains where we can’t take credit for them. He has done this for millennia, knowing that we would take centuries to find his masterpieces—that we might never find them.
I regularly get asked how I find the unique places where I vacation. My trademark response: “Give me five hours and Google, and I can find a vacation you’ve never seen.”
Everybody has the Internet, though; and everybody has five hours. Here’s my process, in case you’re looking to break your status quo.
Across the last four decades, that was the first time that word was applied to me (in person, anyway). That’s probably why I cocked my head a little when I heard the designation. It might explain why I’ve walked around with that moment and that sound for months now, trying to figure out what to do with it.
We summited one peak in cold, blowing rain; and I said to one of my teammates, “I don’t know if there’s something broken in me, but I love this!”
It’s not numbness. I’ve just moved on—like I do on the highway after I pray for the family involved in the wreck I just passed. It was such work to “hold this trip loosely with open hands” that I barely felt it eventually leave my hands.