“Okay then,” he said, “I’d love to know your view on some of the evidence we Christians look to as support for what we believe and why. How about this: I’ll send you a summary of what I believe and the reasons why I believe, and you send me back your response, okay? That is, if your schedule permits; I know how busy you are.”

The earnestness in his voice told me he was serious, and this wasn’t just a mind game. He honestly wanted to know what I thought. The idea was interesting, and I saw the opportunity to outline, for myself, exactly what I believed. I’d never given much thought to these things, and I was discovering that it was hard to verbalize and organize them on the fly when I’d never truly considered them before.

And so I shortly found a package containing three books and a two-page letter from Greg.

Five months later, I awoke to the sound of a woodpecker drilling through a pine outside my window. The room was awash in sparkling sunlight glinting off the snow outside; a blurry glance at the clock told me it was closer to lunch than breakfast. I tried to remember what food I’d purchased on my way up the mountain the afternoon before, and whether any of it would make a good first meal of the day.

I shuffled to the kitchen and rummaged through the sack of groceries, still where I’d first set it down on the table. I settled for two granola bars and a lukewarm can of Mountain Dew. Breakfast of champions.

I’d called Sean the day before to ask if anyone was at his cabin this weekend. He’d once offered it to me on a “Call me anytime” basis, and I decided my current situation required a little vacation. He’d dropped the keys off at my place along with directions and a warning to make sure I lowered the thermostat to 50 degrees before I left.