The Gospel & a Workout at 5 a.m.

Happy Easter!

We did something new to us today: we went to a sunrise Easter service at Red Rocks.  We (and by 'we' I mean 'I') always meant to go to the one at Pearl Harbor but year after year we (I) valued sleep more.  I don't have many regrets about missed Hawaiian opportunities, but that was one of them.  So I was determined not to make that mistake in Denver - not that I have to worry about it, though, because we are never leaving here ever no matter what because I love it too much.

When our alarm went off at 4:15 A.M., G goes, "Are we still doing this?"

The time on the microwave clock when we left the house:

We, and 500,000 other Christian pilgrims, made the dark trek up to Red Rocks.

Oddly enough, the early morning traffic was the easiest part.  As soon as we left the car, we walked uphill for about 20 minutes, then up enough steps to make it a religious experience for believers and non-believers alike.  Imagine 5,000 steps.  Then 5,000 more.  I was sure I would see God one way or the other this morning: He would come to Denver or I would keel over and go to Him.  I was covered in sweat when I got to the top and my glasses were fogged over.  I was surely a sight to behold.

It was worth the climb.

The sun began to make its ascent.  This view of my city is one of my new faves:

There is something inspiring about being around huge stones and thinking about one that was rolled away.  There is also something inspiring about rising in darkness and awaiting the light, knowing that it is on its way, knowing that it will be there - no question - at the appointed time.

And also?  There is something miraculous about driving home and spending three hours on the couch.

Amen, and amen.  My legs are already sore.