We’d been hiking for a little while. Up 1000 meters, and then down 1000. Up another 1000, and then down again. Then up one more time, and down half way to our final night at a hut. The huts are the Alpine alternative to backpacking. Instead of carrying everything with you, all you need is fresh underwear, a little soap and toothpaste, and a sheet. The hut provides you with a bed, pillow, blanket, your beverage of choice, and a meal, all for around 50 Euro for the two of us. Of course, the place comes with views that are unmatched by any Hilton, Sheraton, or Comfort Inn anywhere in the world.
We wake the last morning of our Alpine adventure and begin our hike out, down, and down, and down, all the way to Schaldming, which is where I teach in December most years. The valley, now seen in summer light, is stunning, filled with ever changing scenery as we make our way to lower, thicker air. About 1/3 of the way down, we come into a small opening where the trail crosses the stream. Right at the crossing there’s a tiny cabin, a barn, and a garden. I stop and stare because at that moment, I feel as if I’ve walked into perfection. To say, “You had to be there” is an understatement, because the moment was made of everything: the generosity of the church that enabled us to enjoy this trip, the companionship of my best friend and only wife, the gift of health to enjoy it all, the waterfall and high alps behind me, the lush valley opening before me, the sound of the stream, and the feel of the clear water on my toes, and this piece of heaven, this cabin of perfection right in the midst of it all.
(Good Wednesday to you – My wife Donna and I have just returned from three days of hiking in the Alps, blissfully internet free. In my absence, my friend Ian has offered a guest post about the importance of living in the present – while you read, I’ll go enjoy some Schnitzel, and plan on sharing about tomorrow about lessons learned in the Alps) 
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