We went to the Grand Canyon last week, because I was determined that my little Arizona natives see what our state is famous for, aside from controversial sheriffs and legislation. I think I also wanted to remind myself that God is so much bigger than our looming move.
I have not been up to the canyon in years. I loved hearing all the diverse languages of the visitors. The crowds and buses didn’t bother me. My kids ran me a little nuts, but that is almost required for mandatory family fun. The moment I came up over the hill and saw this…
Everything else paled.
The kids immediately begin talking about what would happen if… we dropped a quarter? A hat? The bus? We didn’t drop anything (to my knowledge).
They asked all kinds of questions: How did the water get down there? How was it made? (Ransom promptly responds ‘weathering and erosion.’ Cora Jo says ‘God.’ They are both right)
Of course, they whined about the bus lines, the snack bar offerings, the lack of purchases at the gift shop, which made us whine about their ungratefulness. But as we left, the girls talked excitedly back and forth about how they loved visiting here, what a fun day, their first time to the canyon. Jet says his favorite part was the buses. I shake my head because I thought they were not paying attention. It’s a common mistake I make, assuming they are not paying attention. I remember that a day is not usually remembered as it happened, but as it is replayed in our minds and family stories. When we talk about the canyon trip over the next few days, I can emphasize what I perceived as the negatives, or I can choose to remember the majestic views and how the layered rock formations reminded me of how God strips away the surface one layer at a time until we are most like Him.
