“How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.” James 4:14

The photo above is a story.

I won’t ever forget that day. The day we ascended Mitchel Peak in the Sequoia National Park.

The road to the trailhead is one for the record books. We drove it in the little Toyota Corolla we rented for this particular trip.

This hike was researched by Levi. My son in the photo. He was cast the duty of preparing for our hikes on this epic 15 day journey.

This trip was part of a massive road trip through a series of the National Parks and other incredible cities. It was Elise’s college graduation present of sorts.

This hike was very special in my mind and remains so as it was the first time either of the kids, Elise or Levi (Jacob, by this time, was serving in the USMC)had been above 10,000 feet in elevation.

We hiked through some beautiful forest that day, to be exposed to one of the finest 360 degree views of the Sierra Nevada range one could ever seek out.

It was clear and sunny, no smoke around (for September, pretty great), and seeing the emotion and the joy in these two children, adult children, that day still gives my heart cause to smile.

They were awestruck at the final tippy top rock marking the perch of the peak.

We made a lot of treks on that trip. A LOT. We learned a lot about hiking and climbing. We took epic photos and were all, at various times, in various ways awestruck by God’s power.

Since that time, it has been a high priority for me to spend as much time as can be considered reasonable, while remaining responsible enough to pay my bills, and work enough to buy food and pay for shelter. (it’s a reason I started a Youtube channel…in hopes of some day supporting my desire to photograph, hike, and travel)

When I consider the times I have traveled and hiked with Levi, Elise, Joelle, Ed, or once…even Jacob, I think of fond times. The times dot my memory and my past with great themes. They fill my mind with joy and peace and calm.

In fact, when I venture back to these places, all the places, and one of them isn’t with me and I am alone, I find myself wishing that one of them, any one of them, were with me.

I remember the first time I was in Joshua Tree National park photographing the Milky Way in the middle of the very early 3am morning. I spent a number of minutes thinking past and back over all our times before that led up to that special time. I thought about Joelle and wished she were there. I thought about how much Elise or Levi or even Ed would enjoy the views I was seeing (and as it would turn out, Levi and Ed did on a return trip a year later).

The United States is in a weird place right now. Things are happening that I am unhappy about.

I work hard hoping to grow the flower business.

I am unsure as to what tomorrow will bring.

But James says, do not worry about that.

I like it.

Instead, let me make a priority what I can make a priority today.

My family. Time with each of them. Real time. Time that I can listen. Time to just drive around doing nothing at all.

Climb a mountain, and when we are on top, going to sleep in the tent, watch Bob’s Burgers or King of the Hill on my little phone together. Look at the stars across the sky in the VERY dark of the night together.

What will the flower shop matter when I am gone?

What will the IT business matter, the photography business, the Youtube channel, even America. What will any of it matter?

It won’t.

What will matter? What will the grandkids or great grandkids hear about?

I hope it’s the time we were on Mitchell Peak.

Or the time the obnoxious kids were having sex in the car on the peak of Keys View in Joshua Tree while we were trying to photograph the sunrise.

Or the time Levi hiked (stomped) his way to Flattop mountain, alone, in what turned into a blizzard after he and I parted on the trail.

Or when we walked up to the edge of Observation Point in Zion.

Or when Joelle and I nearly froze to death trying to photograph the Milky Way over Balanced Rock in Arches.

Or when Elise’s mattress went flat in Canyonlands.

Or when Ed got lost near dark in the forest deep in the center of Bryce Canyon.

Or maybe the time when Levi ran back for the last mile of the excruciating trail called the Lakes Trail in Kings Canyon because of an emergency bowel situation, only to have to sit it out because we had the wipes.

Or the time we made the mistake of hiking Telescope Peak in Death Valley to 11,000 plus feet only a day after being in Florida. Elevation is a killer if you aren’t careful.

Or the time Joelle and I met a mean storm in the middle of the night on the top of Grassy Ridge Bald in the Pisgah Forest.

It goes on.

It makes my point.

The things you fret and worry about. They are unimportant.

What matters?

The people you spend life with. The people you love. The time you spend.

Make it a priority.

Find a way.

Turn your life on it’s head while you can.

A day may come when you can’t any more. No way to consider it.

It might be age. It might be an illness. In today’s world, it might be a tyrannical leader shutting your life down.

Remember. Your life is a mist, a fog, gone soon. It will change quickly.

Do it today while you can.

I do not think you will regret it.