Back in June of 2014 we were on our way for a five day trip in Switzerland. The first night planned was in a little town called Scuol. But before we could spend that night in Scuol, we had to drive across one of the highest mountain passes in Switzerland, Flüela Pass, which sits at 2,383 meters or 7,818 feet. This part of Switzerland is extremely difficult to drive through. Lots and lots of ups and downs. (Flüela Pass is only open May through August, depending on snow fall.)
We had no plans to stop there, but upon reaching the summit of the pass, I was left speechless by the stark beauty that greeted us up above the tree line in this mountainous wonderland.
I had to get out.
I had to breathe thin mountain air.
I wanted to smell snow, and rocks, and trees, and mountain wildflowers, and icy cold streams flowing down from the peaks. I wanted to feel cold mountain wind on my face, and feel it lift my hair and go through my jacket.
Not only did I want to feel these things, my children wanted to also. You see, we were born in the mountains, made in the mountains. We escaped to the mountains in our old life in America.
One of the best natural highs in the world has to be standing on a mountain with your face to the sun. Take a deep breath, and just... be.
We jumped over creeks of melting snow and climbed on rocks that had been tumbled down the mountain peaks by the receding glaciers.
We smiled. We laughed. We ran.
Our hearts beat with excitement and the exertion of breathing at almost 8,000 feet when you've been living around 300 feet above sea level.
They say you find love at the beach, you find yourself in the desert, and you find God in the mountains.
Or maybe, God finds you.