Category Archives: Far Away Places

Sacred Souvenirs

24 Tuesday Mar 2009

Posted by in Far Away Places, Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care, The Great Outdoors

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It’s been over twenty-four hours since my last confession.    

 

I mostly read yesterday.  I had no desire to write, as other days of our road trip.  And while I read the words of another, I let my subconscious work out my own nagging thoughts.

 

I am drawn to write a primer on Christian spirituality.  And I realize, now more than ever, I am not equipped to do it.  How can I point the way to God when I cannot even put into words my own experiences of recent sightseeing in the Painted Desert or the Grand Canyon?  I am bereft of words in all directions.

 

Maybe this is why we pick up souvenirs from our travels.  Or even why we send postcards back home or take photos of where we’ve been and what we’ve seen.  We need props to help us show and tell the story of our journey.  I feel a little like I’m back in kindergarten.    

 

But, no.  I’m home sorting laundry and picking up the pieces of my life.  And in the back of my mind, I’m sorting out puzzle pieces.  Maybe I should have picked up one of those giant puzzles of the Painted Desert at the park gift shop.  It would have been good busy work, a whole lot easier than working out my own, while my hands keep busy with the comforting rhythms of daily chores.  Busy work keeps me sane, while my mind is off somewhere on the brink of eternity.      

 

On our return trip, I hoped to shoot a photo of those Albuquerque rock formations I’d been so taken with on our way out to Las Vegas–that in a fit of fancy, I imagined were a directional road sign pointing to eternity–but, by the time we crossed paths again, it was too dark for photos.  A metaphor if I can puzzle it out.    

 

Photos and words on a postcard are poor souvenirs.  I wonder if God doesn’t feel the same about the Painted Desert and Grand Canyon – perhaps these natural wonders (to us) are but a poor souvenir of eternity (to God).  And all the souvenirs in the world – those made by man and those made by God—are just signposts, pointing to something more.    

 

I am but a poor signpost of God.  I cannot tell anyone what God is like, just as I can’t describe what the Grand Canyon is like.  But, maybe if I give away a few souvenirs from my travels, or send a few postcards, it will be enough to inspire others to seek God on their own.  God knows I have no roadmaps to give out.  I get lost easily.

 

But, maybe that’s the whole point – to get lost in something bigger than ourselves–to feel poor and bereft against the backdrop of the Sacred–and then to stumble our way out with souvenirs of the Sacred to share with others.  And pray it will be enough.    

Holy Ground

23 Monday Mar 2009

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The cold wind swirled out of the Grand Canyon yesterday afternoon to attack me from all sides.  Fifty degrees and up to fifty mile per hour gusts, though temperatures dropped quickly.  We left the park with wispy snowflakes blowing all around us.

 

When we arrived a few hours earlier it had been sunny, with a few clouds on the north horizon.  I wish we’d parked ourselves in front of the first railing we saw and just drank in the view.  Instead, looking for greener pastures, if such a thing exists at the Grand Canyon, we hopped a bus and traveled up and down roads in search of a better view.  We were just fleas jumping around for no good purpose.  Just as any bite will do on a dog, so any bite of this view would offer more than we could chew and absorb. 

 

With the wind pummeling me from every direction, I did not wish to venture too close to the ledge.  The wind and occasional sheer silence reminded of the story told in the Bible of Elijah and God on a mountaintop.  Elijah hid in a cave while a powerful wind tore across the mountain—he continued to hide as the sound of earthquakes and fires echoed all around him.  Only in silence did Elijah sense God’s presence — only then did Elijah crawl out of his hidey-hole.         

 

I knew a little of Elijah’s fear yesterday.  The Grand Canyon is sacred space. God’s fingerprints are all over it.  Every view takes your breath away, even without 50 mph gusts.  I uttered not one word about its beauty.  Anything I would have said would have been profane. 

 

There were no earthquakes or fires yesterday.  No burning bushes.  Thank God.  The wind would have carried the flames across the entire canyon.  But in the occasional sheer silence I thought I heard something close to God’s spoken words to Moses, the time he called out of a burning bush.  He spoke these to me.    

 

Take your shoes off.  Sit awhile.  Be still—no need to go hopping around like a flea.  Just know that the whole entire space of this big hole is holy ground.

 

Viva Las Vegas

22 Sunday Mar 2009

Posted by in Far Away Places, Life at Home

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The wedding festivities are over.  And with thirteen others–a nice mix of family and friends– we celebrated the new Mr. and Mrs. Diaz with wine and a plate of our favorite pasta at Battista’s Hole in the Wall, a homey Italian eatery just behind the main Las Vegas Strip.  Against a backdrop of photos of famous personalities hung with familial pride, we toasted the newlyweds – and the entire room of patrons clapped their hands as they shared our joy.       

 

The wedding was simple.  The spoken vows will not be simple to live.  Kate was a beautiful bride, her sister Kara a beautiful Matron of Honor.  These two who use to fight like alley cats now stand by one another through the thicks and thins of life. Celebrating a sister’s marriage and new life is the best kind of thick.   

 

The wedding chapels on the Strip are well used.  Out comes one couple and in goes another.  It’s like this, not just with weddings, but with everything that happens here –the shows, the slots, the restaurants.  We enjoyed two out of three. 

 

A few hours after our arrival and before the show began, we snagged a couple of tickets to catch Jay Leno’s stand-up comedy routine at the Mirage.  He was there just two nights, so I guess Lady Luck shines on more than gamblers.  While waiting for Jay, we walked around a bit and found that one of the casino hotels was home to eight award winning James Beard chefs.  We enjoyed brunch at one on Saturday, a cozy French restaurant called Bouchon.  It reminded me of Paris or New Orleans, a far cry from the noise of the Strip. It was good to run away for a while.     

 

The entire atmosphere of the Strip over stimulates the senses, blinding humanity to one another.  People live in their own little worlds of friends, the slots or in a haze of alcohol.  They often forget to look where they are going.  I was bumped into several times.  I felt like a piece of furniture.

 

Newlyweds may not have eyes for everyone but they do have eyes for one another.  It’s universal, in and out of Vegas.  When love is brand spanking new, it shines brighter than all the neon lights flashing in Las Vegas.  With vows freshly spoken off their tongues, newlyweds know that married life is a relationship that matters more than whatever else the Strip is selling. 

 

A former pastor of mine was fond of repeating a saying of Sister Elizabeth Molina, which expressed this sentiment more succinctly:.  “Life is relationships.  Everything else is just moving furniture.”  If Kate and Glen can follow this bit of wisdom, their marriage will live and thrive.  Viva los Diaz.  Long live Mr. and Mrs. Diaz.