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I still remember seeing the cover of the magazine. This was years ago, when I worked at the local university.  Students would wander through my office looking for faculty.  This particular student happened to be carrying an extreme sport magazine that I normally wouldn’t give a second glance, but on the cover was a familiar, rocky landscape.  

The Big Bend.  

A large part of my family is from West Texas, and, although I’ve lived in Missouri most of my life, the mountain desert of West Texas is home.  I can’t explain it.  The desert feels like home in a way that Missouri doesn’t.  That evening, I convinced my husband that I needed to go home.  

The details escape me, but somehow we ended up in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  I’d never been there but when we got off the plane, I immediately relaxed.  Home.  Not the four room adobe my grandparents owned.  Not the glider beneath the trees in their yard, but home nonetheless.

Day after day we drove through wide expanses, hiked through ruins and nature preserves. My husband learned that a days drive in the Southwest isn’t the same as a day’s drive in Missouri.  One day we ended up sitting out a downpour in a mountaintop pavilion.  The first thing I noticed was just how far you could see.  Really see.  No trees.  No people.  No buildings.  Nothing between you and everything.  Mountains reached skyward.  The earth stretched into the distance. Cloud shadows flowed across the valley floor.  You could even see the rain slanting downward in the distance.  

Taking it all in, I finally realized how this place I had never been could feel as much like home as West Texas.  Under the dome of the sky, tiny on the face of the desert, I not only saw the country stretching around me, I also felt something else bigger still.

Him.  

God.  

Creation.  

Over it all, around it all and through it all, God was there, holding me in the palm of His hand.  

I’d like to say that I can feel this vast Divinity every day, but as the business of life crowds around me, that is what I feel.  Busy-ness.  Still, I have felt Him and I know He is there.  Always.  When I can’t feel him, He is still aware of me.

Keep your heart and your mind open.  He is there and so is Home.

–SueBE

I pause in washing the dishes,
answering email,
picking up the mess of an average day.
I wish I could feel You
here
with me.
Help me to realize that
You are there even when I cannot sense You,
that You are the constant in my life.
Where I am today,
there You are.
Where I am tomorrow,
You will be –
mountain, desert, or seaside,
apartment, house or
condo.
You are there
waiting for me to look up,
to look out, and see.

-Sue Bradford Edwards

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