Climbing Stone Mountain, Easter 2009
It has been tradition for my daughter and I to climb Stone Mountain on Easter Sunday morning. She is now 23 years of age, and quite independent, and I feel honored that she still wants to spend time with her dad. So about a month ago I started conditioning for the event. I had allowed myself to become rather lax with exercise and thus had put on about twenty pounds since the last excursion up the massive granite outcropping. But, by the time Sunday arrived, I was prepared. We left at 5 a.m. for the drive over to the park. It is a big and beautiful State Park boasting of trails, campgrounds, lakes and rivers, and of course it's namesake. The bald, rock obelisk can be seen from miles away throughout Atlanta. I understand it has a checkered past, once being used as a gathering place for KKK cross burnings. The old folk of my church talk of times, long ago, when they would gather with friends for picnics around the mountain. Back then, they say, was a dirt road leading to the top. Now, however, are only two ways to the top. You can ride the gondola, a hug cable-car, up the mountainside. It costs $9. Krystal and I agree it is for sissies. Or you can hike the one-and-a-half-mile trail. It is admittedly steep and even dangerous in places. Yet there is quite a sense of accomplishment when you reach the top.
The intent is to attend the Easter Sunrise service at the top. It is inspiring to see the sun peeking over the horizon as the message of the resurrection of Christ is proclaimed. Of course, the wind is always blowing ontop Stone Mountain. And when it is about 20 degrees, the breeze can feel fierce. I enjoy hearing a good sermon, but not when I am freezing to death. As I recall the minister entered into a rather protracted spiel about her conversion experience while visiting the Holy Land, and in particular at the location of the Garden of Gethesemane. I tried to concentrate. But under my breath I was pleading, "Please end this thing, so I can get off this mountain and thaw out!" I know such was not very spiritual. And I also suspect similar prayers are directed, on my behalf, even within our comfortable sanctuary.
And so the sermon ended. It was much easier to descend the mountain. We found a cozy place to breakfast and visit. Then it was on to church and a resurrection celebration with our church family.
I love Easter. To me it is the most meaningful holiday for the Christian church. I love all the symbolism even though we Baptists generally shun such ritual and design. But on Easter Sunday it all seems appropriate. The lilies trumpet His victory. The cross is empty and covered with flowers. And the sun comes up with all its glory, proclaiming His warmth and light for all to witness. Therefore I climb a mountain with my daughter at 5 a.m., Easter Sunday morning.
