Another day, another climber gone.  Tom Frost, one of the original big wall climbers of Yosemite Valley, died last month at the age of 82.  The cause was pancreatic cancer.  Many decades ago, when I was beginning to backpack and climb mountains, I devoured accounts of climbs, particularly those in the Himalayas.  Frost figured prominently in almost every one of them.
     What intrigued me most about Frost was, according to the accounts, his steadfast joy in doing what he was doing.  He never wavered, he never complained.  And he did this because, he said, over and over again, he found God most deeply when he was scaling mountain peaks.
     Much has been written about how the natural landscapes of the world testify to the fact of God, about how they tend to invoke, in many people, thoughts of the supernatural and transcendent.  About how they stir up feelings people didn't know they had.
     Not everyone of course responds to natural beauty in this way; not everyone accepts that natural landscapes in themselves mean that God exists.  But Frost did.
     When next you're outdoors, think about Tom Frost.  Think about how difficult it is in a world replete with astonishing beauty, harmony, and order, to imagine that it is, ultimately, just an accident.
     Rest well, Tom Frost.