#WhereAreTheUbryTerrells ... Leg 10: Arizona
When we crossed the border from Colorado into Arizona, we
left mountain life behind and entered into canyon country.
We were barely 10 miles into the state when we came across 3 kids (20-somethings) who had gotten their U-haul stuck when attempting a u-turn. They were moving from Denver to Phoenix, but had apparently gotten confused about which way was south (navigating in mountain-free Arizona is very different than navigating in mountain-saturated Colorado!). Randy spent the next 2 hours helping them dig their way out of the soft Arizona sand. But when the U-haul was finally free and back on the road, they discovered they had run out of gas. We wondered if this ominous beginning was a foreshadowing of our time in Arizona, or perhaps about the future of these 3 in Phoenix.
Anxious to see something of this beautiful state, we made our way to Canyon de Chelly. Which really was beautiful, yet not quite as beautiful as I expected, what with the way people rave about this place. Perhaps it is because I prefer a park I can hike around, rather than one primarily designed for driving (we found the same to be true of Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado).
Or maybe we were a little cranky, being that our legs were still sore from our Black Canyon hike! But we did have a lovely conversation with a young, local artist who was sketching Native American symbols into sandstone, and that was as much a highlight as the canyon itself.
That night we stayed at a state park in Winslow, Arizona, where we savored soaking in the hot showers. While we do have hot water in the motor home, it is in very close quarters, so it was nice to have room to turn around in!
Our next stop was the south rim of the Grand Canyon. We were immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of tourists and tour busses that crowded the parking lots, and the fact that the natural flow of pedestrian traffic led you first to a gift shop and visitor's center and museum rather than the canyon itself. It had been 17 years since I'd laid eyes on the canyon, and I was anxious to do so, so I pleaded with Randy to walk the rim with me first, and do the touristy stuff later. While we walked, I remembered back to my first sightings of this epic place.
It was near the end of my sophomore year in college when my best friend Christina called me at my campus job and suggested we spend the summer in a National Park, doing Christian ministry. My previous summer had been hijacked by two broken feet, so of course I was game for a grand adventure. Nothing says “take that devil” like hiking the Grand Canyon and preaching the Gospel for 3 straight months, just 9 months out of a wheelchair! And a grand adventure it was. That summer was where I fell in love with National Parks. And renewed my love for the Bible. It's where I learned about life and diversity and a world begging to be explored. Typically people will tell you that these are the things you learn when you go to college. But that's not what I found. In my small liberal arts college, in the same state where I'd lived my whole life, I found a lot of people exactly like me and the friends I had grown up with. But at the Grand Canyon I met people from all over the world, of all ages and life experiences. And I hungered for more.
Christina and I spent the first month “training” to adjust to the altitude and get into hiking shape, and the next 2 months making up for lost time. Nearly every day I was below the rim, even if I had to work that night. I couldn’t get over the beauty that I was invited to be part of.
All of my other ministry team members worked day shifts that summer (in order to live and do ministry in the park we were also required to work a “secular” job—anything from cleaning hotel rooms to bussing tables to selling t-shirts and ice cream), and they preached sermons on the rim of the Grand Canyon every night. I, however, worked the dinner shift at the El Tovar, bussing tables and folding napkins and seating guests. A few of the ministry team members also started out on evening shifts, but asked to trade to day shifts so they could be part of the nightly ministry. Even though I was reading my Bible every day and falling more and more in love with Jesus, I never asked to change shifts. I participated in nightly worship on my days off, and was always present for Sunday morning worship. I attended ministry team getaways to Four Corners, slide rock in Sedona, Monument Valley, and camping at Lake Powell. But I never felt like I needed to be preaching every night. It felt like I was supposed to be in that dining room. Letting my light shine there for my coworkers and the thousands of visitors who came in for dinner.
I remember distinctly my last conversation with our ministry team leader, the resident pastor at the Grand Canyon. I told him I wasn’t feeling called into formal ministry. But rather, to live my life in such a way that no matter where I worked—in a hotel or a school or a national park or an office—people saw God in me and wanted what I had. The pastor seemed surprised. Perhaps because any college kid who is willing to spend their summer preaching and leading worship seems destined for seminary. But I was so sure of myself. And God’s calling.
As Randy and I finished our walk along the south rim of the Grand Canyon, and found an outdoor seat at the El Tovar bar (I wasn't old enough to drink when I worked there, so this was a first for me!), I wondered if I had lived up to that calling over the last 18 years. If I had lost sight of it, or if it was still God’s call for me. Do I still radiate that joy, that wonder, that awe of God I felt 18 years ago? Perhaps this road trip is meant to be a time of renewal, not only to see America, but to meet again with the God who created it.
That night we attempted to stay in one of the now empty parking lots, but were woken up by park rangers near midnight, telling us it was illegal for us to sleep in our vehicle in a National Park. They took Randy's license, and returned to assure us he had no outstanding warrants so we were free to go. Just outside the park gates is the Kaibab National Forest. It is free to park overnight in national forests, so we joined the other RV campers (many of whom were kicked out of the parking lot just like us!) for a few short hours of sleep, rising early to make it back into the park to see the sunrise.
People will tell you that the sunsets at the Grand Canyon are magnificent. But because I was always working evenings, I missed out on most of that. Instead I fell in love with the sunrises, and wanted to share that with Randy. (And a giant elk who was wandering around Hermit's Rest!).
After sunrise we headed to Cameron, where I had fond memories of eating Navajo Tacos. And even though the Cameron Trading Post was not what I remembered (it's a huge tourist attraction now!), the tacos were just as delicious as I remembered.
From there we thought we would visit Antelope Valley, known for its slot canyons, but discovered that this is a very expensive detour, one that we weren't willing to pay for. So we moved on to Glen Canyon, where we took a long, hot hike (with 10,000 others) to see Horshoe Bend (where someone had recently died from a fall, not surprising with the number of people crowding close to the edge for selfies!).
By then, we'd had more than enough of tourists. After another night camping in forestry land, we found our way to the much-less visited north rim of the Grand Canyon.
We were thrilled to see a small parking lot, not even remotely full of vehicles. We walked along the rim there, too, but I was anxious to dive into the canyon I loved.
When my family had come to visit me the summer I worked at the canyon, my brothers and I hiked from rim-to-rim. We started on the north rim, on the North Kaibab Trail. Randy and I were both excited to see this trail, and immediately started hiking down. If not for the dog we left in the car, we would have kept going! But even just the few miles we did was enough to wet our appetites and leave us wanting to come back in the future to make this rim-to-rim hike.
As we were ending our hike, a group of men were beginning theirs. They circled up to pray and we asked if we could join. Holding hands, the prayer was about appreciating the small steps, the tiny graces--and you certainly feel tiny in a land so grand. (Or was it about appreciating grandeur, when everyone tells you it's the small stuff that matters? Either way, it was spot on!)
From my south rim reflections to this north rim prayer, Arizona was just as spectacular as I remembered, and, just like the last time, left me hungering for more of Jesus in my life.
We were barely 10 miles into the state when we came across 3 kids (20-somethings) who had gotten their U-haul stuck when attempting a u-turn. They were moving from Denver to Phoenix, but had apparently gotten confused about which way was south (navigating in mountain-free Arizona is very different than navigating in mountain-saturated Colorado!). Randy spent the next 2 hours helping them dig their way out of the soft Arizona sand. But when the U-haul was finally free and back on the road, they discovered they had run out of gas. We wondered if this ominous beginning was a foreshadowing of our time in Arizona, or perhaps about the future of these 3 in Phoenix.
Anxious to see something of this beautiful state, we made our way to Canyon de Chelly. Which really was beautiful, yet not quite as beautiful as I expected, what with the way people rave about this place. Perhaps it is because I prefer a park I can hike around, rather than one primarily designed for driving (we found the same to be true of Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado).
Or maybe we were a little cranky, being that our legs were still sore from our Black Canyon hike! But we did have a lovely conversation with a young, local artist who was sketching Native American symbols into sandstone, and that was as much a highlight as the canyon itself.
That night we stayed at a state park in Winslow, Arizona, where we savored soaking in the hot showers. While we do have hot water in the motor home, it is in very close quarters, so it was nice to have room to turn around in!
Our next stop was the south rim of the Grand Canyon. We were immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of tourists and tour busses that crowded the parking lots, and the fact that the natural flow of pedestrian traffic led you first to a gift shop and visitor's center and museum rather than the canyon itself. It had been 17 years since I'd laid eyes on the canyon, and I was anxious to do so, so I pleaded with Randy to walk the rim with me first, and do the touristy stuff later. While we walked, I remembered back to my first sightings of this epic place.
It was near the end of my sophomore year in college when my best friend Christina called me at my campus job and suggested we spend the summer in a National Park, doing Christian ministry. My previous summer had been hijacked by two broken feet, so of course I was game for a grand adventure. Nothing says “take that devil” like hiking the Grand Canyon and preaching the Gospel for 3 straight months, just 9 months out of a wheelchair! And a grand adventure it was. That summer was where I fell in love with National Parks. And renewed my love for the Bible. It's where I learned about life and diversity and a world begging to be explored. Typically people will tell you that these are the things you learn when you go to college. But that's not what I found. In my small liberal arts college, in the same state where I'd lived my whole life, I found a lot of people exactly like me and the friends I had grown up with. But at the Grand Canyon I met people from all over the world, of all ages and life experiences. And I hungered for more.
Christina and I spent the first month “training” to adjust to the altitude and get into hiking shape, and the next 2 months making up for lost time. Nearly every day I was below the rim, even if I had to work that night. I couldn’t get over the beauty that I was invited to be part of.
All of my other ministry team members worked day shifts that summer (in order to live and do ministry in the park we were also required to work a “secular” job—anything from cleaning hotel rooms to bussing tables to selling t-shirts and ice cream), and they preached sermons on the rim of the Grand Canyon every night. I, however, worked the dinner shift at the El Tovar, bussing tables and folding napkins and seating guests. A few of the ministry team members also started out on evening shifts, but asked to trade to day shifts so they could be part of the nightly ministry. Even though I was reading my Bible every day and falling more and more in love with Jesus, I never asked to change shifts. I participated in nightly worship on my days off, and was always present for Sunday morning worship. I attended ministry team getaways to Four Corners, slide rock in Sedona, Monument Valley, and camping at Lake Powell. But I never felt like I needed to be preaching every night. It felt like I was supposed to be in that dining room. Letting my light shine there for my coworkers and the thousands of visitors who came in for dinner.
I remember distinctly my last conversation with our ministry team leader, the resident pastor at the Grand Canyon. I told him I wasn’t feeling called into formal ministry. But rather, to live my life in such a way that no matter where I worked—in a hotel or a school or a national park or an office—people saw God in me and wanted what I had. The pastor seemed surprised. Perhaps because any college kid who is willing to spend their summer preaching and leading worship seems destined for seminary. But I was so sure of myself. And God’s calling.
As Randy and I finished our walk along the south rim of the Grand Canyon, and found an outdoor seat at the El Tovar bar (I wasn't old enough to drink when I worked there, so this was a first for me!), I wondered if I had lived up to that calling over the last 18 years. If I had lost sight of it, or if it was still God’s call for me. Do I still radiate that joy, that wonder, that awe of God I felt 18 years ago? Perhaps this road trip is meant to be a time of renewal, not only to see America, but to meet again with the God who created it.
That night we attempted to stay in one of the now empty parking lots, but were woken up by park rangers near midnight, telling us it was illegal for us to sleep in our vehicle in a National Park. They took Randy's license, and returned to assure us he had no outstanding warrants so we were free to go. Just outside the park gates is the Kaibab National Forest. It is free to park overnight in national forests, so we joined the other RV campers (many of whom were kicked out of the parking lot just like us!) for a few short hours of sleep, rising early to make it back into the park to see the sunrise.
People will tell you that the sunsets at the Grand Canyon are magnificent. But because I was always working evenings, I missed out on most of that. Instead I fell in love with the sunrises, and wanted to share that with Randy. (And a giant elk who was wandering around Hermit's Rest!).
After sunrise we headed to Cameron, where I had fond memories of eating Navajo Tacos. And even though the Cameron Trading Post was not what I remembered (it's a huge tourist attraction now!), the tacos were just as delicious as I remembered.
From there we thought we would visit Antelope Valley, known for its slot canyons, but discovered that this is a very expensive detour, one that we weren't willing to pay for. So we moved on to Glen Canyon, where we took a long, hot hike (with 10,000 others) to see Horshoe Bend (where someone had recently died from a fall, not surprising with the number of people crowding close to the edge for selfies!).
By then, we'd had more than enough of tourists. After another night camping in forestry land, we found our way to the much-less visited north rim of the Grand Canyon.
We were thrilled to see a small parking lot, not even remotely full of vehicles. We walked along the rim there, too, but I was anxious to dive into the canyon I loved.
When my family had come to visit me the summer I worked at the canyon, my brothers and I hiked from rim-to-rim. We started on the north rim, on the North Kaibab Trail. Randy and I were both excited to see this trail, and immediately started hiking down. If not for the dog we left in the car, we would have kept going! But even just the few miles we did was enough to wet our appetites and leave us wanting to come back in the future to make this rim-to-rim hike.
As we were ending our hike, a group of men were beginning theirs. They circled up to pray and we asked if we could join. Holding hands, the prayer was about appreciating the small steps, the tiny graces--and you certainly feel tiny in a land so grand. (Or was it about appreciating grandeur, when everyone tells you it's the small stuff that matters? Either way, it was spot on!)
From my south rim reflections to this north rim prayer, Arizona was just as spectacular as I remembered, and, just like the last time, left me hungering for more of Jesus in my life.
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