Glacier Retreat

This winter has proved to be anything but. We’ve received less than two feet of snow, which, in true Southeast fashion, has all but rained away. It is difficult to look at the world changed around me and not believe that the climate is in fact changing, as the earth, like an old man, grows tired and weary. Our own glacier, whose icy face and rocky till I scampered and scurried about in my youth, is in quick retreat from the water’s edge. I am convinced that by year’s end we will see this great river of ice release its last toe-hold from the waters of Mendenhall Lake, and begin its final ascent up the valley to the great ice field beyond, leaving only memories, scars, and stories to share.

Yet, I am convinced that death always leads to life. As sad as it is to watch this icon of my youth fade away, it is equally impressive how quickly the apocalyptic scene springs forth with new life- lichen, moss, flowers, alder and willow trees; all pioneering a claim in the barren rock; setting stage for the cottonwoods, spruce, and hemlock which follow. As I survey this serene landscape, I remember that not too long ago, where I am sitting, this frozen behemoth once rested; and I am thankful that in its wake, it made possible the life that is now before me. It is the memories and gratitude of what came before that feed the hope and excitement for what is yet to come.

The land lives, because of death; and because His death, so also do I live.

~ Stephen