switzerland

Tuesday was kind of glorious because I went to Switzerland with my dad. After catching up on a few hours of sleep, we ventured out, me in my cold gear and wool sweater, him in his flannel-lined cargo pants. Dad bought our tram tickets and we headed downtown for a pit-stop at Starbucks, where we took advantage of the Wi-Fi access for his iPhone over a couple of $4 cups of STRONG coffee. Next, we grabbed a couple of brats at the station before jumping on the train to the place where we could access the gondola that would whisk us up another couple hundred feet above sea level to the ridge overlooking the Zurich Sea.

At some point, perhaps en route to Starbucks or over lunch, dad asked if I still wanted to go hiking, despite the cold and the cloud cover that would potentially obstruct the typically picturesque view of the mountains all around us. Without hesitation, I answered yes (I am, after all, a mountain girl). Later, during our ascent in the gondola, we noticed that the trees were frosty, and the next minute, we burst into the sunlight, escaping the thick blanket of clouds. I knew I had made the right choice, and soon admitted to Big Jim that when I answered "yes" to his inquiry, I had this feeling that the Lord had something special planned for us.

We stepped off the platform and into Narnia. (gondola vs. magical wardrobe made from a tree planted with fruit from another world - what's the difference?) The ground was covered in a thin, but fresh layer of snow. The sun was shining, its rays penetrating the thickness of the forest in a dazzling kaleidoscopic fashion, while tufts of powdery white snow was falling all around us, dusting my hair and eyelashes. We began to follow the yellow diamond blazes that marked the wide trail, or Wanderweg, it you will, but couldn't make it more than twenty or thirty feet without stopping to snap a few photographs. I couldn't stop smiling and laughing and running to catch up with my dad after pausing to admire the tiny ice crystals that clung to only one side of a small tree - the side opposite the direction of the sun's warmth. Soon we even came upon a lamp post, and I turned around, half expecting to catch a glimpse of Mr. Tumnus peering out from behind a tree.

We walked past fields of snow and small farm houses. Occasionally, dad would abruptly stop and turn around, explaining that the best pictures are sometimes right behind you. We walked on in silence for a few moments and I thought about everything that I'd just experienced. It would have been nice to have a clearer view into the distance - to see the breathtaking snow-capped range surrounding us, but that's not what God had planned for us. Instead he surprised us with a sight that I like to think few people, or at least, few Georgians, have experienced: a little patch of snowfall in the midst of a sunny Swiss afternoon. Would I have appreciated the things so close to me if I had been distracted by things off in the distance? Perhaps, but probably no to the extent that I did. Life so often works in much the same way. The future is kept hidden from us so that we are better able to live - to truly live - in the present.

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
"Who has known the mind of the Lord?
Or who has been his counselor?"
"Who has ever given to God,
that God should repay him?"
For from him and through him and to him are all things.
To him be the glory forever! Amen.
-Romans 11:33-36

After a few hours, we came to a tower with an icy spiral staircase that we ascended with care. From the top, we had a more aerial view of at least the tops of the peaks around us, or at least those tall enough to tower above the vast foggy quilt covering the earth below us. A perfect afternoon.