See you on the top, Steve!

I have a dear brother, the closest of friends, one of my original backpacking buddies, name of Steve Holtzclaw.

Early yesterday morning (3/13) he took his last climb. It was a climb on Mount Zion and he's with Jesus now.

You beat me to the top of the mountain this time, my brother. By the way, Steve, I will remind you: this is the only time you've beaten me to the top of the mountain.

Steve and Carol Holtzclaw and their family are the dearest of friends. Many moons ago (I might have even had hair - it's that long ago) Doris and I moved from central Virginia to Central Pennsylvania, where I became a teacher at Bible Baptist School in Shiremanstown. The very first Sunday we were at Bible Baptist Church, a friendly family invited us to their home for Sunday lunch. Delighted, we accepted.

We followed their car to their home. I figured it must be one of the families in the church, trying to make us feel welcome on our first Sunday. Actually, it was their very first Sunday at BBC, too; they had just moved into town from somewhere in the midwest, if I recall.

We all got a good laugh out of that. But that's just who Steve and Carol are. A fast friendship between our families developed. Steve and I are kindred spirits: we're both nuts. But more than that, we have Christ in common.

The Lord used Steve and Carol in our lives in significant ways. Repeatedly. One of my most cherished memories was when our little baby, Jessica, died shortly after birth. Steve and Carol showed up at the hospital. Within moments Steve had us laughing through our tears. That's just who they are.

I'm not sure I remember this correctly (Steve would say that there is a great deal I don't remember correctly), but I think that I had the pleasure of introducing Steve and Carol to backpacking. I used to take my students on backpacking Bible studies. The photos in this blog post are from a two-week trip in 1986. Steve is right over the "LA" in Loveland. Carol is on the extreme right. For those unbelievers of you who think I've never, ever been young, Chris and Doris are sitting on the base of the sign. Together. Ahem . . .  see the hair? Not hers! Mine!

Oh, the stories I could tell you about this trip! Oh, the stories Steve WOULD tell, if he was still here. Like when I was showing him the finer points of trout fishing and caught myself on the back of my parka with my own lure. I think that's the only thing he carried away from my lesson. At least, that's the only part he ever told anyone else.

We saw God move in amazing ways on this trip. He allowed me to make some major mistakes in order to show us His greatness. Take a look at the picture above: what do you see? Snow, right? Uh-huh. This is the end of June, for crying out loud. This is also Colorado high country. You don't plan high country trips until mid-July, unless you are planning on using snow shoes. Let me put it this way: the snow was hip-deep not five miles from our trail head. I learn the hard way.

Here's a peek at the first morning on the trail, only a mile from the trail head. No snow here, but just up the valley to the right . . . .

So, I've got fourteen people, for most of whom camping was a tent in the back yard, signed up for this fourteen day, cross-country, high-country trip and we can't even get to our first pass. In my defense, it was an unusually heavy winter, with unusually late snow. Now, that's the part Steve wouldn't mention when he was telling the story.

That mischievous grin?

It's not just for show.

Anyway, Steve and I hiked and hitchhiked to the nearest town (we had arranged wheels to drop us off at the trailhead but they'd already returned to Denver), and by the grace of God managed to salvage the trip, complete with transportation to a low-country site with fishing that was out of this world (it was the Flat Tops Wilderness Area). Those are the kinds of memories Steve and Carol and Doris and I shared.

Here's a few shots of the crew hiking to the Flat Tops (they really are flat, too! The tops, I mean.)

This was just one of many trips we took, and one of the many joys we shared.

Well, my brother, you got there first. Guess I'll have to admit it, much as it pains me. Carol, Kristin, Kristian: Doris' and my love and prayers are with you.

Love you, Steve. I'll miss you. See you on the top.

Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the LORD hath dealt bountifully with thee.

For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears,
and my feet from falling.

I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.

Psalm 116:7-9

Steve Holtzclaw (1951-2013)