Being there at night under a full moon and a clear sky is something else – not because it’s pretty, although it is, but because it’s so amazingly spiritual. It’s okay to look out over the buttes, but when you walk down into them and head back a little ways into the wilderness area, it’s like you’ve left the planet. I wrote in my journal that night,
Still struggling to find the right adjectives. It is an uncapturable experience. It was a moment and a place, and such things do not conflate with pen and paper. It was religious, and beautiful in an eery way. It was almost like a moon, but with greenery. And thanks to the owl and crickets, it was so alive! And not a single other person. I had been transported in a way I never had been before. For once, I was glad to be along during a wonderful moment. It was all so ancient, and made me feel safe in an edgy way.
But I was not really alone. I was with God. And the drive back to my campsite a few hours later was something else, too – I had to stop repeatedly for stampeding bison, charging prairie dogs, and a 15-point buck!
There are moments in life – children discovering the joy of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly; pilots, as John Magee says, slipping the surly bonds of earth and joining the tumbling of sun-split clouds; fisherman enjoying the calm tranquility of a still lake; farmers feeling the wise wind of the cornfield on their face or taking in the awesome power of a prairie storm; city slickers walking in a park to escape the grime and the crime – there are moments in life when we know that God loves us not because we see God in our air ducts or our transmissions, but because we feel God in the midst of God’s creation.
Here's something I found on YouTube: