(Note: At the writing of this post, we are driving east through the high desert of eastern Oregon. After leaving the giant redwoods of northern California, we spent three days at Crater Lake NP, then five days at Cannon Beach, Oregon. I have gotten really behind in blogging. Each day is so full; between exploring these destinations and chasing kids (ok, Aidan) we usually drop into bed just before being overtaken by sleep. For now I want to look back a little at our time in the Redwoods.)
The Redwoods are not like any trees we know. They greet us like ambassadors from another time. --John Steinbeck, Travels with Charlie
Steinbeck's observation is so accurate: the Redwoods are not like any trees we know. It's not just that they are so big around (which they are, though Sequoias are bigger), it's that they are so big and tall (taller than the Sequoias). We drove through a section of highway called the Avenue of the Giants, and could wrap neither our arms nor our minds around these silent, massive sentinels.
I want to share two impressions I had while in the giant redwoods. The first is our kids' reaction, which was something like playing with an enormous playmate. If Clifford the Big Red Dog were a tree, he would be like this. The kids ran among the trees like they were old friends, laughing at the sheer wonder of being in their company. At one point I heard Aidan say, "I can't believe I'm doing this!"
The other impression I had was that for Mary and me, all we could do was continually crane our necks and exhale in amazement. It's like wonder and awe and delight and unbelief and laughter and joy and intimacy and the inability to take it all in all at once. Then it dawned on me, it was worship... or I should say it was like worship...or I should say it was like what worship should or could be. Truly majestic.
