There is a steady stream of pilgrims who head to the Grand Canyon. My own experience there thirty years ago was truncated by an appendicitis, which severely hobbled any appreciation for the vistas. But a good friend and his daughters recently walked from rim to rim in a single day, and there was no shortage of beauty to distract them from bunions. 

 

He told a group of us the details about starting in the dark with head lamps, and how the tiny beacons ahead and behind them on the trail resembled a string of Christmas lights. He had brought along a high calorie burger, stuffed in beside granola bars, and when the group paused for an indulgent half hour at Phantom Ranch he pulled it out. Those of us who slept at home in beds with sheets are perhaps ignorant of the fact that Phantom Ranch is closed for dining in, so the sight of a four layer lunch raised some eyebrows for his famished fellow hikers. He did not share. 

 

Words seemed too thin as he crafted a spoken picture of the sheer cliffs and temperature change. His phone offered two inch images, but they hardly suffice in conveying the feeling of being dwarfed by a panorama of granite and limestone. The final assent to the South Rim included a vertical gain of forty two hundred feet, which can take the wind out of you. But my friend chose to end strong, and tapped into hidden reserves to pick up the pace, and his feet. Light was still abundant and they were rewarded with a spectacular sight. 

 

When the group was checked into their hotel a quarter of a mile away, they could hear the shouts of victory as each band of climbers came over the edge to a faithful fan club. There was enough joy for everyone. 

 

A man at the table listening to his enthusiasm captured it. 

 

"You sound younger now than before you went!"

 

He mailed me a postcard. Stamped in the center is the emblem of the lowest post office on earth, and the words "Mailed by Mule". The message mentioned a peregrine falcon, flying above the trail. 

 

Sometimes walkers are not rewarded with a view. The absence of sun, or a hovering fog can obscure even the hole that is visible from space. What is it like to be pretty sure you made it, but there is no evidence?

 

I thought about people who are nearing the end of their life, who have quietly confided their uncertainty. Are they truly worthy of heaven? Did they try hard enough? 

 

What I know about the climb into eternity is that there is abundant joy for everyone. The view will be stunning. Like many people, I ache for them to send word that they have arrived. Plus they will be younger than when they left.