October 1993

I have a bittersweet relationship with October.

It was my father’s favorite time of the year in the mountains of NE Georgia and Western Carolina. There’s something awesome about the foliage, the apples, the crisp air and…those mountains. It also beautifully and humbly signals the end of something.

This is one of the last photos taken of Dad. He always wanted to go hand gliding, so, one day he climbed a mountain and moments later was checking it off his bucket list while magnificently soaring through the Swiss Alps. He wasn’t given to recklessly handing out superlatives—except when it came to seeing nature in its creation glory—but I believe he used the word “spectacular” on this one.

Sometimes I feel my life is a muddled, messy journey of trying to see and understand such glory and glimpses of God. It doesn’t always occur while soaring over mountains. Sometimes it’s the bite of an apple, a beautiful leaf on cold, wet pavement…or a bittersweet memory of a graciously, incredible human being who touched our life…