There are times when words cannot express what you see, what you are thinking, or how you feel. To stand there on that special spot, in front of the chapel, with the wooden cross before me, and the morning sun cresting the horizon out yonder ... how do you express what all that means?
I am not a religious person, but I do believe, at least I hope, that a loving and forgiving God exists. And I believe that the story of Christ, whether it be historical fact or beautiful fiction, is worthy of the utmost respect.
The symbolism of this scene extends beyond my ability to imagine. It transcends the limits of my mind. It takes hold of me. The empty cross suggests that Christ has given up his earthly body in sacrifice so that we might all be delivered from our sins, and live a new and better life. The rising sun is the beginning of that new day and everything a fresh beginning can represent. The vastness of those mountains and valleys are the blessed good, the boundless opportunities, the untold mysteries out there waiting.
So, there I stood, looking out and breathing in, feeling the presence of something greater than myself. And while I stood there in the silence, in the cool fresh air on that high place, I felt privileged to breathe that sweet air, to see those purple mountains, that pink sky, that rising sun ... and in a new way, I felt alive. Standing there, my troubled past seemed less significant. Standing there, my troubling future faded from my mind. Standing there, under that pink sky, I was in the moment.
And the moment was in me ... as I bowed my head and closed my eyes ... letting my weary mind rest ... letting my willing spirit soar.