At the Princess Wilderness Lodge in Denali, you can (and should) sit on the back deck, facing west, and see the majestic, snow-covered mountains as far as the eye can see. We’ll call that the Denali National Park perspective. On the front porch, facing east, you can see a less glorious, touristy strip mall, offering t-shirts for $5.99. We’ll call that the Pigeon Forge on a bad day perspective.
Sometimes, it’s not where you stand, but which direction you face. Your orientation—your perspective—makes all the difference in the world.
That’s how two people, in the same place, might have two very different attitudes about their situation. They are focusing on different things.
If you are bummed about your current life situation, the solution might involve changing places—a new state, a new job, a new vacation spot, a new friend group. More often, I think the solution is about remaining in place, but changing your orientation. You rotate your perspective to see life’s snow-capped mountains—the blessings—rather than the cheesy strip malls.
After a hearty breakfast and cup of java at the Black Bear coffee house, we boarded the bus for a journey into Denali National Park. Crossing into the park, I checked off National Park #29 of 60. I doubt I’ll ever make it to all 60 (unless I commit to do so), but I sure have enjoyed the first 29.
Our bus tour covered just a fraction of the park’s main drive. Another tour, and adventurous back-country campers, go much deeper. But, boy, we sure saw a lot of wildlife in that stretch. The approximate tally was…
– 5 moose, including a calf
– 7 or 8 caribou wandering along and then crossing a river
– 1 arctic squirrel
– several ptarmigans, the state bird. The p is silent, as with pturkey, ptaco, and PTony Romo
– dozens of snow-shoed hares
And…drum roll…
A grizzly bear!!!
There are tour operators who travel in the park daily, over a period of years, and never see a grizzly. So we were thrilled to have one exit some brush and cross the road right next to our bus. Our mostly grey-haired bus riders scrambled over seats and each other, jockeying for the best viewing position.
Our guide said you can tell grizzly bear gender by the presence of offspring/cubs (if cubs, female), visibility of sex organ (if visible, male), and urination (if standing facing tree, male; if politely seated, female). So, in that regard, they’re much like humans.
Our tour including a couple of earnest, if underwhelming, presentations at stops along the way. We learned living history at the Savage Cabin and local native culture at Primrose Ridge. My lack of appreciation was partly due to being distracted by:
1. The presence of snow-shoed hares darting around. Or, as Kyle’s mother-in-law Tami calls them, Fuzzy Hares.
2. The presence of a very juvenile but quite hilarious fart app on my phone, which I may or may not have activated from the back of the crowd, much to my wife’s dismay.
At Primrose Ridge, our guide invited us to face Denali, the mountain formerly known as McKinley. Unfortunately, cloud cover precluded us from seeing the highest mountain peak in North America. Thus, we were staring at a giant cloud. That perspective, had I adopted it, could have been a bummer.
Instead, I chose to change my orientation and focus on my amazing traveling companions, a rare grizzly bear sighting, and the other wildlife and mountains we had seen. God made all these people, these views, and this wildlife, for us to enjoy…and through them, to see Him.
That made me joyful and grateful—the by-products of choosing a better perspective.
Princess Cruises wasted little time getting us started on our first activity. At 8:15 am, we boarded the sternwheeler Discovery for a narrated cruise along the Chena and Tanana rivers.
I was totally impressed with the design and execution of this narrated riverboat cruise. Rather than just rely on the beauty of the river and surrounding scenery, the narrator and staff immersed us in Alaskan history and culture.
First up, a discussion on Alaskan bush pilots. For nearly a century, these legends of Alaskan aviation have been traversing the mostly roadless Alaskan wilderness in often brutal weather conditions and rough terrain. They allow remote, off the grid families and villages to occasionally tap into towns to resupply, get healthcare, and access other services.
In the middle of this discussion, a real life bush pilot flew in and landed next to our riverboat! How cool is that? Our narrator interviewed him over the loudspeaker, providing even more insight into his training and operating environment. Then he took off from the water and soared into the clouds.
Next up, we arrived at the training site for the late Susan Butcher’s famous Iditarod sled dog team. After an accomplished dog mushing career, including a remarkable 4 Iditarod wins in 5 years, she sadly died from leukemia.
Fortunately, Trail Breaker Kennels, where she lived and trained dogs with her husband, remains in operation today…right along the banks of the Chena River. For us, that meant a live sled dog demonstration (which are always more impressive than ones using deceased dogs). Musher Laura Allaway explained the training process, took a team of dogs for a ride, and answered questions.
Three key takeaways…
1. The puppy sled dogs eventually become confident at overcoming big obstacles in adulthood because they are introduced to increasingly challenging obstacles. The puppies on the banks before us were being encouraged to crawl over a small, manageable log…one of the first steps in their training. (One puppy, who “knew better,” just walked around the log. He was placed on the management career track.)
2. The dogs’ attitude, demeanor, resiliency, and toughness…and even the composition of their body fur, is a product of their training and living environment. It got me thinking, as I sat in a comfortable chair, behind protective glass, in a climate-controlled room…might we be a little mentally tougher, resilient human beings if we allowed ourselves to exist for a while in less than optimum settings? Hmmm.
3. The 3rd and best takeaway relates to why dogs are chained to individual dog houses at the end of day. For more on that, and my other lessons from sled dogs, check out my next book…Faith in the Margins…a 365-day devotional book.
Our next stop on the riverboat cruise was a tour of an authentic Athabaskan village. We learned how salmon are caught with a fish wheel, cleaned, smoked, and preserved. Other presentations covered animal furs, native dress, housing, and other cultural aspects of Alaska’s original inhabitants.
After re-boarding the boat, I made two food decisions: one good and one terrible.
First, the good. I ordered the hearty, delicious reindeer dog and reindeer chili. Once you get beyond the notion of eating Rudolph and jeopardizing Christmas for millions of children, it’s a satisfying meal.
Next, the narrator announced that free samples of salmon dip would be available in the stern of the ship. Without hesitation, I raised the aft portion of my body off my seat, rotated starboard, and headed for the stern. Why? I don’t know. You see, I’ve hated salmon since I was a kid. I knew that. And yet, there’s something powerful in the words “free sample.” An absurd logic train enters my mind…eat enough free samples in life, and you’ll save enough money to put your kids through college. Even though my kids have finished college, I had to get my free sample.
At the sample station, I picked up a cracker…by that, I mean a thin, crispy wafer and not the colloquial term for white people. I scooped up a generous glob of salmon dip with said cracker, because…larger the free sample, quicker my kids get through college.
As I placed the entire sample on the back of my disproportionately large tongue, I immediately knew something was wrong. This was the second most disgusting thing I’d put in my mouth in the past decade…the first being the Gravy Train beef jerky I inadvertently ate during a walk on the Appalachian Trail.
The sweet lady behind the counter (aka, “the cracka servin’ cracka”) asked, “Isn’t it delicious?” With the fishy manure wad still resting on the back of my tongue, I barely opened my mouth and uttered, “Fabulous.” Lying on the Lord’s Day…shameful.
I was in a serious dilemma. I was also in Alaska, with salmon—a cultural icon, stuck in my mouth. I had just immersed myself in Athabaskan, salmon-loving culture, for goodness sake. Still, I wasn’t about to put the “free sample” in my belly, even if that would delay my sons’ education.
In true Mr. Bean mode, I quietly made my way to the side exit door, found a secluded spot by the rail and looked around. No one was in sight…good. I curled my tongue around the fishy ball of drywall repair, and launched it about 30 feet across the water, almost reaching the starboard bank. I must assume the clump will be eaten by alevin (look it up), thus completing what naturalist Sir Elton John called the Circle of Life.
Still suffering from fish mouth, I boarded the bus with my traveling companions and we headed toward the Denali Princess Wilderness Lodge. Highlight of that bus ride, for me, was driving by the place where Christopher McCandless went to live off the grid, as documented in the book and movie Into the Wild.
All in all, a wonderful first full day in Alaska, save for the free sample of salmon mush.
On a first trip to Seattle, there are certain things one must do: ride to the top of the Space Needle, drink coffee with local hipsters, eat homemade mini donuts while walking around Pikes Place, watch cheese being made, watch men toss salmon at the fish market, take a ferry ride in Puget Sound, and visit Chittenden Locks. We did all that last year. Love the place!
On a second trip to Seattle, during a 9-hour layover, the list is reduced to 2 items: drink coffee with local hipsters and eat mini-donuts. Those were my two priorities today.
After storing our bags at the Sea-Tac airport USO, we took a train to downtown Seattle and rendezvoused with the rest of our traveling clan. Kyle led us to Caffe Ladro, his favorite of the 1,692 coffee shops in Seattle. He and Laci shared honey lavender coffee there during their honeymoon a couple years ago. They would do so again today.
On our way into the coffee shop, I noticed a pickup truck loaded with flowers parked in a no parking area in front of the store. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, as if asleep. This would be weird in most contexts, but wasn’t even in the Top 10 of odd/unusual people I’d seen on our 10-minute walk from the train station.
About half way through our coffee experience, we noticed a police officer approaching the back of the truck. After looking inside the truck, he backed up behind it, un-holstered his gun, pointed it at the driver, and called for backup. I assume the guy had something threatening in the seat, like a red MAGA cap.
The cop motioned for us to get out of the way, as sipping coffee behind a large window next to a police bust is not a recommended excursion on TripAdvisor. Continuing to sip our lattes, we shuffled through a side door and huddled in an adjoining lobby, just as 3 more cops arrived. These Alaska tours are awesome!
As the scene unfolded outside, I sang “Bad boys, bad boys, watcha gonna do? Watcha gonna do when they come for you?” Moments later, the police, inspired by my song, stormed the vehicle and dragged the man to the ground. We jumped at the chance to exit the lobby and hurry down the street to safety.
Our next stop was the mini-donut shop at Pikes Place. I stood in line for 20 minutes to buy 3 dozen for our group. As we feasted on these tiny lumps of breaded wonder, one of the members of our group shared a personal story.
It seems the gentleman has Irritable Bowel Syndrome. For the purpose of the story, I’ll call him D-Wibs—Dude with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I’m not familiar with the condition, but my understanding is that when constipated, D-Wibs gets a bit snippy.
As I munched on my third cinnamon mini donut, D-Wibs shared that his condition sometimes causes him embarrassment in public restrooms. Specifically, his bowels make loud sputtering noises, like a Chevy with a damaged catalytic converter. We’ve all been there.
On a recent occasion, he was in the stall blowing trouser clouds at regular intervals, about 20 seconds apart. In an adjoining stall, a boy began anticipating the explosions, and whistling in advance to announce their arrival. Together, these two strangers could have scored the opening scene in Saving Private Ryan.
Consistent with his condition, D-Wibs became irritated. After finishing up, he waited outside the teen’s stall. According to D-Wibs, he wanted the boy to have to look in the eyes of the man he had whistle-taunted and fart-bullied…the man with Irritable Bowels. And that’s what happened…and that’s how the story ended. As a Fob W Pot, I appreciate the burden D-Wibs carries, and the bowel-shaming he endures in public restrooms and swimming pools. I plan to give him a hug each morning.
With donut powder still framing our lips, we returned to the airport by train and caught the 9 pm flight to Fairbanks, Alaska. I was thrilled to step foot off the plane and claim my 48th state!
As we were shuttled over to our Princess Cruises-owned hotel just passed midnight, I wondered about the recommended packing list. Specifically, they tell you to pack a flashlight. Why? After all, it was after midnight and still light outside!
A night with no darkness–that’s weird. A flower-toting, pickup truck driving guy getting jacked up by Seattle police–a little weird. A teen whistling in concert with my friend’s irritable bowels–weird as well.
Yes, it’s been a weirdly exciting day. But we’re in Alaska and super pumped for the opportunity to explore the Final Frontier!
Three to go. Yes, after 52 years on Planet Earth, I’ve visited 47 states, leaving just 3 to go. North Dakota, Michigan, and Alaska. Well, I should say “about 3.” My wife tells me I really haven’t done Hawaii, because she wasn’t with me. Following her logic, I also haven’t done childhood.
Regardless of the math, it’s time to take on Alaska…the Last Frontier. A state 2.5 times the size of Texas. A state with more coastline than all other states combined. A state with more inland water than any other state. Most importantly, the only state that can be spelled using a single row on a standard keyboard.
We arrived in St Louis to join up with our son, Kyle, and his wife, Laci. We will later join up with 10 more of her family and friends.
As we plopped down in their living room, their dog (our only grandchild) climbed up my torso and pounced on my face. She’s basically a large cotton ball with legs. She’s also a bichon frise, which in French means “please groom me.” My dad, her original owner, named her Pita, an acronym for a 4-word phrase beginning with “Pain.” As a minister, Kyle must claim she’s named after the flat, hollowed, unleavened bread. Who names their dog after bread? As Pita ran her tongue along the inside of my left nostril, I was convinced my dad had more accurately named her.
While we watched carpool karaoke, Kyle pulled out a little pair of scissors, the kind kindergarten teachers trash because they no longer cut. Right on queue, Laci put Pita in a headlock and Kyle began cutting her hair…about 3 cotton fibers per cut. Unable to handle the inefficiency of this money saving process, and the tears in Pita’s eyes, I looked away.
That night, a friend delivered us to the STL airport. We made our way to the USO lounge, a military hangout featuring free snacks, TVs, gaming consoles, and a room full of beds. After partaking of hot dogs, bowls of cereal and a game of Quirkle, we found 4 unoccupied beds on which to get a few hours of sleep. Tomorrow at 6am, we fly to Dallas, Seattle, and then Alaska!
I saw the sun begin to dim
And felt that winter wind
Blow cold
We’ve all traveled the valley of despair and disappointment. We’ve all felt the pain of loss and unrealized dreams. In The Greatest Showman, Phineas Taylor Barnum lost his business, his fortune, and nearly his family—the winter wind had blown cold. He tried to drown his sorrows with alcohol, sitting alone in a bar. He looked back on his life with regret over misplaced priorities. After a promising start, the sun was dimming on his horizon.
Like P.T. Barnum, Solomon spent time in the valley. Near the end of his life, he looked back on his life with considerable regret. He literally had it all—fame, fortune, riches, pleasures, palaces, women, servants, food and wine. He had a means to every end. During his life, no desire went unmet. He looked back on it all in his quasi-diary, the book of Ecclesiastes. He summed it up in Ecclesiastes 1:2 with, “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” All the things he had chased after—all the things that were supposed to bring him happiness—were meaningless. In chapter 2, verse 11, Solomon describes his pursuits as “a chasing after the wind.”
How will your end-of-life diary read? What are you chasing after?
A man learns who is there for him
When the glitter fades and the walls won’t hold
So true. When you’ve lost power, authority, and influence, who sticks with you? When the walls of life start to crumble around you, who is there to help you hold them up? When you’ve made a mess of your life, who is there to help you clean it up?
In The Greatest Showman, P.T. Barnum’s band of misfits show up at the bar and offer words of encouragement. He was there for them when even their own mothers rejected them for looking different. Now they are there for him and will help him rebuild and start over. They offer their friendship, support, and a glimmer of hope.
In the Garden of Gethsemane and later at the cross, Jesus learned who was there for him. No one. His closest followers slept while he prayed in agony. They denied him and scattered like cowards. No one had his back. No one. He bore the cross alone.
In the way you live your life, do you have Jesus’ back?
Cause from then, rubble
What remains
Can only be what’s true
What remains is what’s true. P.T. Barnum’s friends and family remained and were true. His dreams of making a difference in the world through entertainment were shattered and yet somehow remained. They, too, were true.
From the rubble and shame of Christ’s crucifixion, He remained. In fact, He rose again on the third day! He suffered—but remains. He bore our sins—yet remains. He agonized and cried out—but still remains. What remains…can only be what’s true. Christ remains. Christ is truth.
When you take away the passing fancies and rubble of your life, what will remain? Are you chasing truth, or chasing after the wind?
If all was lost
There’s more I gained
Cause it led me back
To you
P.T. Barnum’s suffering and loss ironically resulted in gain. His misfortune made him realize his priorities were all wrong. At the altar of fame and fortune, he had sacrificed family and friends. Ultimately, through tragedy, he’s led back to his family. Near the end of the film, he’s seen for the first time at his daughters’ dance recital. The picture of a man with properly placed priorities is a beautiful thing.
In 2 Chronicles 7:14, God tells Solomon, “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” The people had rejected God and lived for themselves. Still, God was willing to forgive them and give them a fresh start. God still offers that today.
Do you need a fresh start? Do you need to return to God?
From now on
These eyes will not be blinded by the lights
From now on
What’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight
Tonight
P.T. Barnum had a life-changing epiphany. He had been blinded by fame and fortune. It was time for a change. Not eventually. Not after the next show. Not once everything was figured out. The change would begin immediately. His new way of thinking and living would start tonight. People would notice a difference in him…from now on.
Repentance does that to a person. When God and religion go from the abstract to the real, your world is turned upside down—for the better. Things that used to mean so much—wealth, possessions, rank, and popularity—start to fade into the background. You start to get what Jesus had in mind when he said, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.” (Luke 12:15) Once you realize your predicament without God and your need for God, you’ll want to become a Christian…immediately. The change must start tonight. I must live for God…from now on.
Let this promise in me start
Like an anthem in my heart
From now on
From now on
This is my favorite phrase in the song. Barnum is promising to do better—to be better. That change will be noticeable to everyone around him going forward. How noticeable? Like an anthem in his heart. An anthem is “a rousing or uplifting song identified with a particular group, body, or cause.” In Barnum’s case, there would plenty of rousing songs—The Greatest Showman soundtrack is full of them. More importantly, his “anthem” was about a cause within. It will emanate from his heart and his family and friends will see it in him.
Christians believe in God’s promises. We trust that God will follow through with what He has said He will do. The main promise—eternal life—should be on the surface of our lips and buried deep within our hearts. Heaven is something we think about, dream about, talk about, and sing about. We can’t approach our eternal destiny any other way.
What promise do you trust in? What anthem is on your heart?
I drank champagne with kings and queens
The politicians praised my name
But those are someone else’s dreams
The pitfalls of the man I became
Barnum had “hobnobbed with the big wigs at the wing dings,” as the saying goes. He could name drop with the best of them. His mantel was lined with photos of himself and celebrities. He began to assess his value based on who he knew rather than who he was. He calls that way of thinking “pitfalls.” Solomon would have called it “utterly meaningless.”
I’ve been there. I’m patriotic and proud of my military career, but I don’t miss the over-emphasis on rank and privilege. While there are some practical reasons for wearing one’s rank on the uniform, few professions do that. Our rank determined our pay, our responsibilities, how we were addressed, the size of our office, where we sat at the table, and sometimes even where we parked our cars. In some uniforms, we also wore our medals and ribbons. Thankfully, most professions don’t do that. We were promoted based on our potential, but it didn’t hurt to “drink champagne” with kings and queens—or the right general officer. The farther removed I am from that life, the more aspects of it seem, well, meaningless.
Do you worry more about who you know than who you are? Is it more important to look outwardly successful on social media than to actually be successful in God’s eyes?
For years and years
I chased their cheers
The crazy speed of always needing more
But when I stop
And see you here
I remember who all this was for
Barnum admits to having gotten caught up in the “crazy speed of always needing more.” He had to be not just a successful businessman, but the best entertainer in the world. To prove his father-in-law wrong, he had to purchase the trophy house. He chased the cheers of the crowds, his family, and his friends. He finally realized that each new possession or accomplishment simply led to him wanting more. Whatever he had, it was “Never Enough”—another inspiring song on The Greatest Showman soundtrack.
Are you caught up in the crazy speed of always wanting more? How would our lives be different if we were satisfied with what we had?
And from now on
These eyes will not be blinded by the lights
From now on
What’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight
It starts tonight
And let this promise in me start
Like an anthem in my heart
From now on
From now on
From now on
And we will come back home
And we will come back home
Home, again!
The song concludes with Barnum and his posse of peculiar people chanting, “And we will come back home…And we will come back home…Home, again!” With his priorities straight, he celebrates returning home. To the new and improved Barnum, home includes a wife who loves him, daughters who need him, and friends who admire him for who he is as a person. More than just figurative language, Barnum leaves the circus he created to his partner and returns home to be with his family.
From the Bearded Lady to the Irish Giant, Barnum’s band of outcasts also return “home” to a circus where they can find peace and be among people who love them for who they are. The Bearded Lady’s song, “This is Me,” is another rousing anthem about overcoming insults and being proud of who you are. In the circus, she found acceptance. She found home.
As much as I loved going to summer camp as a kid, I always enjoyed returning to the comforts of home. As much as I enjoyed going off to college, there was something special about returning home to see my family. As much as hiking the Appalachian Trail meant to me and changed me, I couldn’t wait to get home to be reunited with my wife.
For Christians, this world is not our home—we’re just passing through. As much as we love our families, friends, and the many ways we’re blessed here on earth, this isn’t the end game. It’s temporary. It’s passing. Much of it is “utterly meaningless.” For true meaning, we return to Solomon’s diary, and find, “Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind.” (Ecclesiastes 12:13)
If we do that, from now on…before we know it, we’ll be home—home again!
