Saturday, April 24, 2010

Take Me Back to the Black Hills

There is a little town in South Dakota, with one main street though town. A great little coffee shop slash steak place sits on one corner and a grocery store on the other. Up the road is a state park with buffalo herds, some beautiful lakes, and many antelope.

Sometimes my schedule gets busy, as it does with all of us, and I start wishing for a cabin out there in that park. With a good cup of coffee in the morning, a dollop of creamer, in a travel mug in one hand and my camera in the other. Waiting till the sun comes up, enjoying the sunshine, and the mist of the morning starts rising among the Needles Highway. Perched on a look out or a shelter bench, I want to just sit and sip my coffee, listening to the morning. Then, later in the day as the sun approaches the mid-point and the heat rises, I could head to Sylvan Lake and walk on the shore. Smelling pine, enjoying the feel of rock and moss as I climb over them to rejoin the trail, covered in pine needles. Buffalo appear from the groves of tree and move through in herds. Slowly, they appear to plod along and move with an ungainly gate, until they run. Then, their bulk is revealed to be powerful strength. Sometimes I want to watch, observe, sit in the quiet and soak in the stillness of removing the extra distractions around me.

In the quiet, when I can be still long enough to give all the cogs in my head to slow down, that is when I find myself feeling that I can really hear from God. It’s not that God isn’t speaking or isn’t present the other times, it’s just that my distractions make it hard to hear. It’s kind of like trying to carry on a very quiet conversation at a rock concert – it just doesn’t work. So, when my life gets busy or when it starts feeling like I need to get away, I dream of the park outside of that town in South Dakota.

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