Crossing The Finish Line

I expected to see God at the top of Springer Mountain.
I did a 20 mile day from Woody Gap to Springer Mountain, where I crossed the finish line of a 2,176 mile journey. I did many 20 (+) mile days on the trail.
When I got to the top of Springer I had many emotions, but none like I thought I would have.
When I thought about this moment days, weeks, and even months earlier, I pictured an overwhelming joy, tears even as I took those few last steps over to the monument marking the southern terminus of the AT.
But as I walked over to the rock housing the plaque, it felt like the end of any other 20 mile day, the only difference is that I would not have to walk tomorrow. There was no where else to go, there was no more trail, there were no more white blazes to follow. I felt sad, I felt scared, then I felt happy, and excited, because tomorrow I wouldn't have to pack up my house and move it with me to the next spot, then I felt sad again because I wouldn't be seeing a new spot tomorrow.
As my mind jumped around, I realized that the trail never was about a start and a finish, really. You start it and end it everyday.
The trail is about everyday.
Everyday is a new place, a new person, a new chance to engage God in his original creation, the Earth.
I miss walking. I miss the simple happiness that walking can give you. I miss simplicty. I realize that one of Gods gift is just that, simplicity.
Jesus sent out his disciples and instructed them to "Take nothing for the journey - no staff, no bag, no bread, no money, no extra tunic."
I needed nothing more than God and his creation to experience true joy everyday.
But as soon as I got back to what people like to call "the real world" as started being told of all the other things I needed to be joyful. A new car, a big screen TV, even a significant other, so that I could buy her things, so that she would be happy.
To have all this though I would have to quit walking, and start running, I'd need to catch up, I'd have to join in what people like to call "the rat race."
But I realize I already crossed the finish line. I walked across the finish line. My timing was perfect.
But God wasn't there waiting for me like I thought he'd be, because he walked across the finish line with me. He took every step with me. He took every step for me.

The Cost

Not everything in life comes with a price tag. Sometimes you get ready to check out, but you have no idea whats gonna be on the price register screen.
We have been bombarded with Black Friday ads for the last week informing us of what great deals are out there on all types of things, and all the emphasis has been on the low cost.
However, today I began to see what a great price I paid to thru-hike the AT.
The price I'm referring to cannot be measured in dollars or any other form of currency.
I measure it in the hours I lost hanging out with my brothers and sister, who I thank God for everyday, it's amazing to have best friends that share your same blood.
I measure it in all the smiles I missed from my nephew Dylan. It's not often you truly get to see a smile that actually lights up a room, and already at 2 yrs. old, the kid could light up a stadium.
I measure it in the life-lesson conversations that never took place with my parents, who still impart wisdom on me every time we talk.
I measure it in the meals never eaten with all my friends, Brittany, Christopher, and Justin to name a few, who have all poured into me and helped me to keep on, keeping on in the daily test which is life.
I measure it in the gifts that will go unopened in the relationships I walked away from to set out on the journey. Now I'll never know what might have been.
I measure it in the hearts I will never know, as I walked alone each day, some heart went untouched, went to bed not knowing of Gods true love for it, the love that we are all put on Earth to embody, to show, to be.
The price of walking 2,176 miles as I tally the cost is quite substantial, one might even say "priceless."

Coming Down From the Mountain, In Silence

So I'm starting this blog cause I ........ well I'm not really sure how to say it.
So I hear more in silence than ever before. I have heard silence for the last 5 months.
There was silence as the wheels from the plane went airborne, and I was on my way to Maine.
There was silence as I was walking up Katahdin, not knowing what I was in for.
There was silence as I stood on the side of a mountain in the 100 Mile Wilderness wondering if I could make it to the top before my whole body quit working.
There was silence as I walked for a whole day thorough the woods and never saw another person.
There was silence as I ate, slept and lived in the woods alone.
There was silence from the trail as I slowly took 5 million steps towards home, and it silently conceded defeat.
There was silence as I walked the last mile to the top of Springer.
And Now there is silence in my basement bedroom, as my eyes search for stars, the silhouettes of the trees against the moonlight, Gods patterns of leaves on a forest floor, but all I see is empty wall space.
I'm bracing for the After Shock.