WINTER 2007Many of you already know that Mario and I spent part of the end of September in Arizona attending a traditional Navajo basket wedding. The bride was lovely and the groom handsome, of course. And the Arizona scenery was breathtakingly beautiful. We spent an entire day at the Grand Canyon. We drove around mountains and hills, walked around and inside the dam that creates Lake Powell, toured the Navajo rez, and spent half a day hiking a “slot canyon”.
Sondra in the slot canyon
photo by Mario CavalliniA slot canyon is, literally, a slit that cuts all the way through a mountain to the valley level below, and is, perhaps, four to eight feet wide. Some of the best pictures I have ever taken in my life come from that slot canyon. We got there in a yellow Hummer, and there probably is no other vehicle besides a Hummer that could have gotten us over that rough terrain to the entrance of that secret canyon, hidden away on the Navajo rez. Some of the rocky slants we traveled up and down in that Hummer must have had close to a 70 degree grade. There were times when we were only on three wheels. But that gorgeous slot canyon was definitely worth the trip.
I have often been thankful for the love God shows me: through Mario, through my friends, through the Quarter, even through strangers I meet in stores and restaurants. But, in September, although I was still grateful for the love, I was also overwhelmed with gratitude for the majesty and wonder of God’s creation. I stood before Her, awe-struck, watching California condors soar inside the Grand Canyon, snapping photos of purple rocks and blue soil inside a secret slot canyon, hiking upon red sod on hillsides, watching thunder clouds roll across the sky on the day of the wedding. (Rain on a wedding is considered a special blessing among the Navajo.)
And I knew that creation, and the Creator, are far beyond my ability to ever fully comprehend. I could only stand amazed before chasms that embrace and hide the Colorado River, before slashes in mountains that form techno-colored slot canyons, before rain which, overnight, changed a brown and rustic land into a wild vibrancy of green grass, of gold and blue and scarlet flowers. And I realized I cannot even begin to imagine all the beauties hidden on all the worlds of this galaxy, let alone all the glories of all the universes that have ever existed and that ever will exist.
In September, I got a glimpse of a power so strong that not even my most intense wonder can do it justice, a creative energy so overwhelming that no poem, no painting, no piece of music can ever even begin to mirror it, a personality so mighty that not even the name “I AM” can begin to define it.
Sondra Ball
Clerk, Salem Quarterly MeetingRETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS
Last modified:
Saturday, November 17, 2007 at 10:17 PM
