Some trees don’t hurry.

Stand beneath a giant sequoia and you’ll understand. The bark is red and soft as an old blanket. It would take more than a dozen people holding hands to reach around one. And way up top, so high you have to lean your head back to see it, the light is just finding its branches. Some of these trees were already old when Columbus sailed. Storms came. Fires came. Whole lifetimes came and went at their feet. And still, every single morning, they reach for the light like it’s the first time. This weekend, Breezie and I drove up to Sequoia National Park with a camera and a few pages of a book. For a long time now, I’ve been carrying a man around in my heart. His name is Rick. Rick lives on a mountain. He doesn’t own an alarm clock. His coffee is terrible, his cup has a chip in it he refuses to replace, and every morning a little bird tries to steal his toast. His best friend, Sam, shows up whenever he feels like it. Rick doesn’t have much. But he believes he might be the richest man in the world. Standing under those giants, I finally understood why. Next to something that old, your worries get small. The bills, the hurry, the “someday” you keep putting off all go quiet. What’s left is everything that was always free. Sunlight. Birdsong. The people you love. I don’t think it’s an accident that God made the best things in life free. The Beautiful Life of Rick comes out October 27. I won’t tell you any more than that. Some stories are best when you walk into them knowing nothing at all. But before you go, do one thing for me. Look up from this screen. Look out the nearest window. Whatever is out there, a tree, a patch of sky, a bird on a wire, it was there yesterday too. It will probably be there tomorrow. And most days, we walk right past it. Not today. Today, let it be enough. Then come back and press play. Breezie filmed the video below under those giant trees. I read a few lines from Rick’s story, and the trees did the rest. Turn your sound up. Your friends, Finius & Breezie...and Silver