Morning arrived on the mountain the next day, bringing with it the realities of the day before. One couple had already declared that they would be staying in basecamp no matter what. Altitude sickness and dehydration are not to be taken lightly. They can kill you if not attended to properly. I had informed Tom that “unless a handwritten letter from God” showed up, there was no way he was going up that mountain either, and I certainly wasn't going without him.

No letter.

No summit.

And so it was, that at 9:00 in the morning on Friday July 15th, four of our crew struck out for the summit, and four of us were stuck in basecamp.

Stuck is a funny thing. It means there isn’t a way out. You are where you are, and the only choice left is what to do with what you have. Which is what is true of life on and off the mountain. You can fight what is true, or embrace it. You can look away or stare it straight in the face.

Stuck in basecamp, we silently decided to embrace the day we had rather than wish for the one we didn’t. Pulling our camp chairs out onto the snow, we watched as the four climbers headed out. With every determined step they grew smaller, leaving basecamp farther behind and bringing the top of the mountain closer ahead.

Stuck in basecamp, I began to see that two things can be true at the same time. I could be both sad that I couldn’t accomplish what I set out to do, and celebrate the four who could. I could be both disappointed for those of us staying behind and delighted for those of us forging ahead.

Stuck in basecamp, letting go of how I thought it would be was the only way to grab ahold of what it turned out to be.

Stuck in basecamp holding the loss and the love, the pain and the joy, the grief and the gratitude, it hit me. This is what it means to be fully alive.

And it just doesn’t get any better than that.

(With gratitude for those who stayed behind and those who forged ahead.)