My mother has never really gotten over the fact that I no longer attend church.Although something like 30 years has passed since I've gone, and although I'm a middle-aged man with an almost grown family of my own, if I speak to her on Sunday, she's sure to ask, "What did you do today?" In her voice, I always think that I hear an anticipation that this time, maybe, I'll say, "I went to church."Okay, my mom's not that naive and it may just be some lingering guilt on my part (hey, I was raised Catholic and we were taught at a very young age to feel guilt for everything), but when my little sister-the other lost sheep of the family-started attending church again, my mom was quick to tell me."Did you know that your sister is going to church?" She continued to remind me of this weekly for the next several months.So when no one answered the phone this past Sunday morning, my mom's voice seemed to hold an uncommon eagerness when she finally got through to us that afternoon.But that day, my wife, son and I were not at church; we had met with a group of friends for "breakfast on the bluffs." We all gathered with some food, coffee and ropes for a morning of croissants and climbing.It was one of those perfect Squamish days. Small whites clouds were scattered through the morning sky, and the air held the warmth that promised the coming of summer.We set up a couple of ropes and each took turns trying different routes.Climbing, as an activity, is remarkably supportive, and I think that climbers are naturally that way too. Each person has to struggle with his or her own personal tribulations on the rock, and the people below have nothing to gain or lose from the success or failure of their climbing partners. What else is there to be do, then, but offer encouragement or advice.And whether successful or not, the person coming off the rope is always greeted with "nice climb" or "good try." He or she then turns to his partner and says, "Thanks for the belay."In between climbs, we shared our food and communed with one another. The adults played with kids and the kids with the dogs. We ate, we talked, we laughed.Throughout the morning other groups of climbers came through. Some stopped, some just passed though, but everyone greeted one another with a smile and a "hello." Sitting on the Smoke Bluffs on sunny Sunday morning, it's difficult to imagine how there could be any strife in the world.As we packed up to leave, one of the party exclaimed, "My God, it's a beautiful day!"Amen, I thought.
