It’s a natural area about an hour from my house, where one can have the rare pleasure of walking in virgin forest. Scott has come to visit and is looking forward to a hike where the two of us could play amateur photographer. Giant trees will work wonderfully.

However, my phone’s guidance apps have another idea. They think it would be more fun to deposit us in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but highly suspect dirt roads (or are they rain washes?) leading up into the mountains. Frustrated after futile attempts to find the spot we intended, we just park and pick a road to hike up.

It’s funny how a photo of an upward trail neglects to show incline. After a couple of miles of climbing, we are convinced by the glimpses of blue sky through the trees that we are coming to the top and, hopefully, to a vista. But every time we crest a hill or turn a corner, there is the trail, stretching onward and upward. We can almost hear it laughing.

We eventually give up and turn around.

And my mind suddenly turns to Ecclesiastes.

I’ve been reading the book lately. It is a cold splash in the face. A wake-up call. As I pursue making a living all over the country, these words hit me hard:

“For a man may do his work with wisdom, knowledge and skill, and then he must leave all he owns to someone who has not worked for it.” Eccl. 2:21

This pursuit of the good life – reaching a point where we kick back and enjoy the fruit of our labor – is a lot like this hike to a hopeful summit. We have no map, no guarantees, no sense of how long we have to go, or how much time we’ll have left when we get there. If we get there.

As Scott and I turn around, though, I think of another lesson from the book:

“Moreover, when God gives any man wealth and possessions, and enables him to enjoy them, to accept his lot and be happy in his work – this is a gift of God. He seldom reflects on the days of his life, because God keeps him occupied with gladness of heart.” Eccl. 6:19

This hike doesn’t depend on the summit. The lack of a vista doesn’t strip the journey of meaning, because we are talking and observing the entire time.  He and I have a long history of exploring trails together.

In early June, the mountain laurel – Pennsylvania’s state flower – is just beginning to bloom. It is a delicate beauty, like a bush of baby’s breath. My brother and I slow often, taking photos, discussing the best way to frame the blossoms to highlight their loveliness.

Contentment, says Solomon, is a gift from God. It enables us to enjoy what we have as we go, rather than waiting for a some future culmination. Today is the day to celebrate the beauty with which he surrounds us – whether it’s a flower, the sun filtering through the trees, or the love between two brothers.

Lord, teach us to celebrate your goodness moment by moment, step by step. We won’t delay our delight or postpone our praise. Keep us occupied with gladness of heart in all the ways you care for us.

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