My Quiet Place

There’s a place aloft the Colorado National Monument that may as well have a spot carved out, about the width of my jeans…..labeled, “Lakin was here.” In those early days as a single mother, when all that mattered was off on a visit to her dad’s- this is where I landed.

In an attempt to quiet my aching heart, the journey would start with 20 minutes on the road- windows down, taking in that easy air. The lightweight, slightly cool, Colorado air (can you tell my newly asthmatic lungs drool at the memory). Swirling its way ever so gently in and out of my freshly cut locks. I always cut my hair when Im feeling unsure.

Enter the gate, park that car and don’t plan on getting back in for at least 3 hours. Sure, it was risky going for a hike alone, but something about that sunshine on my skin made God’s embrace tangible. Like, here honey, sit here and take in my creation – I’ll guard the gate.

Colorado is much different than the North Carolina terrain I enjoy as I pen these words. The sky is open, trees more sparse and rocks ore magnificent. Please don’t hear me say that North Carolina isn’t equally beautiful, with it’s enormous trees, smoky blue hills (I’m from the Rockies, these are hills) and incredible history. There’s just something about home, and home is where I was.

Looking over the entire city with a bird’s eye view, surrounded by the red rocks and silence. Funny how the caw of an eagle – the crash of water against the rocks can be labeled as silence amid the city hustle. Those waves are working hard to smooth the edges over time, as God is with my heart. The sudden crash causes a harsh edge, but the streams continue flowing faithfully time after time.

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