In the Book of Mormon, there is a passage where a trouble maker is preaching to the people that there is no God and they are foolish to think He exists. Ultimately, he and the local religious leader have a discussion about God, and the teachings this man is attempting to discredit. The man declares again that there is no way the leader can prove that there is a God. The chief priest replies to the unbeliever that, in fact, his own statements are unprovable, and points out that, "... all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it..."
I spent last week surrounded by this evidence of our Creator. My long-time friend invited me, and two of my grandchildren, to go to Yellowstone National Park with her. I've never been, and she really wanted to be my guide for the first visit. She's a veteran Park visitor, and was delighted to accompany me on my initial trip.
Wow. Just WOW. As you may know, from previous posts, that I am a native of a most beautiful environment, in Wyoming. So, I'm completely familiar with the wonders of nature in the Rocky Mountains. I appreciated that beauty when I lived there; I still appreciate it now. And I've visited many other spectacular natural environments in the world. I'm just partial to the Rocky Mountains because they are part of my DNA, sort of. However, Yellowstone completely blows "beautiful" "stunning nature" and "gorgeous scenery" totally out of the water. (Often with a loud, exploding geyser, if you know what I mean.)
Seriously, I was in complete awe the entire time. Every curve you drive around, every vista, every bubbling mud pot, every wild animal, every river, mountain, wildflower, and cloud was over the top of my experience with the beauty of the natural world. If "all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it," then probably His vacation home is Yellowstone Park.
I'll go into more detail about the large blessing of that world in another post, but to conclude this post, I need to explain one of the small blessings I experienced while on my trip. I left home and drove the 365 miles north to my daughter's house and slept over night. Then, two of her children and I packed up and drove north about 50 miles to pick up my friend. After carefully securing all of our belongings in a large tarp, and fastening it with a variety of tie-downs in the back of CoolGuy's truck, we set off for another 300 + miles to the north. While in the park, we drove probably 50-100 miles each day, for three days. Then, we loaded up the gear, drove the 300 miles back south. After a couple of days to recover, I got in the truck and started on the final leg of the long journey.
Now, before I set out on this extravaganza, I'd taken the truck in for a tire rotation, air check, etc. etc. I felt confident that everything would be fine--the truck runs well. As I drove back toward our desert home, I was strongly impressed to stop at particular highway off-ramp that I don't normally use. Then, I just decided that I needed to back the truck into the parking space to avoid facing the sun. After I returned from the restroom break, and stretched my legs a little, I approached the truck from the passenger side, which I would not normally do, as the driver. The rear tire caught my eye. It really didn't look right--too low. I thought I'd drive under the freeway, and find a garage in the town, but as I rounded the corner of the gas station, there was a tire place right there. If this had been the next town on I-15, I'd have really hesitated. But, these guys were just sitting in their work bay, chatting with one another, not out there hustling gas customers and trying to drum up bogus business.
I pulled up and asked one fellow if he'd please check the inflation because I didn't like the looks of my back tire. It had all of 8 lbs of pressure (out of the needed 40). EEK! It was flat. He jacked up the truck, took it off, sprayed it down with soapy water and found the leak. A nail was extracted, a plug pushed into place, and the tire remounted. He checked all my other tires--everything was fine. I paid him the pittance he charged for essentially saving me a ruined tire, a possible wreck, and being stranded in the middle of nowhere. All done in less than 20 minutes, and I was treated respectfully.
So, as I continued my drive south toward home, I spent a great deal of that time praying silently, and sometimes aloud, thanking Heavenly Father for hearing my prayers that I offered each leg of my trip. I always petitioned for a safe journey, no accidents, no car trouble. Wow, I certainly got a loud and clear answer. "Stop here. Park like this. Look at that tire."
Blessings: large as Yellowstone Park, and small as an urge to stop and do a tire check.
The falls in the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River. Pictures are SO inadequate.
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