The Climb
Last year on my first trip to Red River and the Songwriter’s festival, we passed through San Luis, the oldest town in Colorado. The Church of the Stations of the Cross was pointed out to me. The bitter cold and snow, however, prevented a climb up the hill to see the church and catch the view. This year was different. The winter weather was nearly balmy and the walk up the tall hill divine.
The walk got my heart going and of course I forgot to mark the walk to see what sort of elevation I had conquered. But maybe when you’re walking the Stations of the Cross on the way up a hill to see a fine little church, buffing your climbing stats may not be what it’s all about. Every station was marked with a lovely bronze statue, and I can imagine the faithful making the walk on Good Friday and pausing to pray along the way. Reminded me of my youth and my mother. I think spiritual is the word I want.
After coming down from the hill, we finished the drive into Red River, a lovely little town flanked by tall snow covered mountains, to begin the musical celebration we came so far to see. We missed lots of friends, however, because the winter weather in Texas was not so fine and in fact was crushing, bringing down a rain of limbs on the Hill Country courtesy of ice. Some will still make it, however, and we are here, and the music is fine and the friends we’re seeing are lovely, as well. And I’m sure when next we see on another we will all have stories to tell.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale