Stories from the ridgeline
Reflections on fatherhood, faith, healing, leadership, adventure, and the spaces between expectation and reality.
September 19, 2025
The Trailhead I remember road marches during my Army days at Fort Benning, Georgia. We’d start around 2 a.m., moving out under the stars into miles of wilderness; miles of forest thick with loblolly and longleaf pines. Often, the Division of Land Management had just done a controlled burn. We would march straight into landscapes […]
September 2, 2025
The Winding Trail Life doesn’t always unfurl like a neatly drawn map. The lines we sketch as children (graduate, build a career, marry, raise children, retire) rarely survive contact with the weather of reality. Instead, most of us find ourselves on winding trails: paths with switchbacks, false summits, detours, and unexpected valleys. From the outside, […]
August 30, 2025
I’ve spent nights in the mountains where the fire was my only anchor. The wind cut sharp, the dark pressed in, and no matter how close I pulled my sleeping bag around me, the cold stayed. But the flames gave just enough light and warmth to remind me I wasn’t completely undone. Life feels a […]
August 25, 2025
Reading the Sky of the Soul Every morning, I give my students a writing prompt. An invitation to explore the thoughts in their heads and the emotions in their hearts. These journals are private, theirs alone, a place where honesty can stretch its legs without fear of judgment. After they’ve spent time wrestling with their […]
August 21, 2025
The Canyon Isn’t Silent Grief is a canyon. Wide, but not quiet. Every sound, every memory, every doubt ricochets off the walls and returns in a different form. What starts as a whisper of sadness can come back as a roar of regret. What we thought we left behind suddenly sounds like it’s still ahead. […]
August 19, 2025
Embers and Ashes In the backcountry, you sometimes stumble upon the remains of an old camp. Blackened stones sag in a broken ring. Ash lies scattered by the wind. No heat or smoke. No hum of voices. It’s a still life of absence. You can almost hear the missing pieces. The hiss of wood catching […]
August 17, 2025
Holding the Map When you hike with someone who’s carrying the only map, you follow their lead. You watch the trail they choose, the pace they set, the way they decide whether to push forward or pause. In relationships, many women hold a similar kind of influence in the emotional landscapes of the men they […]
August 15, 2025
There’s a trail in the Rockies that still haunts me. A thin ribbon of ice and snow stretches across a sheer drop, just wide enough to place your boots side by side. The wind cuts sharp, stealing your breath, and each step requires the full measure of your attention. The crunch of boots on ice, […]
August 13, 2025
When the Bikes Vanished: There was a time when a pile of bikes at someone’s house meant the neighborhood had awoken. That was our trailhead: pickup games, scraped knees on driveways, and the steady hum of collective mischief. We climbed the day together, step by sunlit step. But those piles have disappeared. Now, for many […]
August 11, 2025
The Search for Something Sacred When I was in high school, I was a Boy Scout. One summer at camp, a few friends and I decided we were going to do something bold. Something that felt half adventurous and half forbidden. We were going to try and find an old Indian burial ground. It was […]
