A story of majestic beauty

I stood in the prairie grass, breathed deep, and just stared at Montana's wide open spaces. The sun was beginning to set and it was like God had personally hand-painted the sky down to where it met those wide open spaces. It was like heaven to me.

Then one of my boys farted.

In August 2001, I spoke to a small gathering of Baptist pastors and church leaders at the Wyoming Southern Baptist Convention office in Casper, WY. For two days, I helped those churches prepare for significant communication shifts that are now culturally commonplace. Now, I'm helping churches and organizations prepare for what's coming next.

That Wyoming speaking engagement opened the door for me to take my oldest sons, Andrew and William, along for a father-sons trip that included driving across Wyoming to Rapid City, SD, where we had pancakes by the roadside, saw Mt. Rushmore, saw Wild Bill Hickok's grave in Deadwood, and drove over to Devil's Tower National Monument. Andrew was 12; William was 10.

After visiting Devil's Tower, with the help of GPS (my first time ever using it), we decided to drive north and west along four hours of state highways 112 and 121 through the Northern Cheyenne Reservation to the Little Big Horn National Battlefield near Hardin, MT.

It was on State 112 at the South Dakota - Montana State Line that I pulled the rental car over onto the side of the road. There was no civilization within sight. There was no mobile telephone service. I turned off the engine and got out of the car. Andrew and William followed me.

There was the slightest breeze but in the peaceful quiet you could actually hear the breeze. It sounded like a whisper and against the scenic backdrop, I told my boys, "Listen, it sounds like the whisper of God." It was beautiful in just about every sense of the word.

I walked off the road - learning later at the Little Big Horn that it was a miracle unto God that I had not been snake bit. Andrew and William followed me. We walked a short ways into the grass of the prairie. I stopped again, breathed deep, and just marveled at God's handiwork.

"Dad," William whispered, reaching his small hand up to my shoulder blade.

"Yes, son," I said without looking at him.

"Do you feel like you are looking at heaven?" he asked.

"I do," I said, peacefully.

"I know how important this is to you," William said. "I know you've wanted to see this part of America for a long time. I know you think this is the most beautiful place on Earth." He began patting my shoulder.

"Yes," I said, and it was all I could say.

"I'm glad," he said. "Because I think you locked the keys in the car."

As I frantically ran - not sure why I ran - back to the car, William shouted, "I'm going to pee here if that's okay" and Andrew joined him there on the side of State 112.

Fortunately, the car was unlocked though the spirit of the moment was shattered.

www.scottdvaughan.com

COMING OCTOBER 2018: Scott Vaughan's third book in his award-winning Memories of a Home series about a boy's life in 1960s and 1970s north Georgia. Buy them here.

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