Transition News and Musings

A few Trans students and I were poised to do a half-day of service in Cedar City last Saturday, followed by an afternoon of snow tubing but we were forced to postpone our plans when a surge of wild weather stormed into Southern Utah earlier that week and by Friday night the roads to the local ski resort were all but closed.

Alas! But within 48 hours after the storm passed-or was it within 48 minutes?-the students rallied, (doubtlessly inspired by our Trans motto), and in a rare display of unity and perseverance, assured me that they would be willing to try again this weekend, i.e. ride in a heated van to Brian Head for an afternoon of snow tubing. You have to admire their pluck in the face of such a discouraging turn of events, doncha think? Kidding aside, if this outing turns out to be half as fun as previous trips to BH, then we should have a story or two to tell when we get back, and some great photos to give Chase (Red Rock's computer wiz cum laude and all around good guy) to post on our web site.

Looking ahead to February, I see that we're booked for a day of service at Valley Of Fire state park near Lake Meade, NV. This marks the third year in a row in which our Trans students will help rangers with various projects on the grounds of the visitors center. One of the reasons I personally look forward to this event is because the days down there are nearly always balmy when compared to the jacker-weather that hangs over St. George at this time of year.

Since our trip is scheduled for when visitors to the park are about as scarce as lizards, I think that the only distractions we will have to content with are the ones that we'll bring with us, such as iPods, worldly cares, etc. But believe me, the volume from all of that "noise" soon fades when you're as "far from the maddening crowd" as we plan to be, and surrounded on all sides by the vast solitude of the desert. Even the very anticipation of such moments can reassure us at any time, or in any place, that when we are at peace with ourselves, the world is our oyster.

The Visitor's Center at VoF sits back against an imposing outcrop of granite boulders that are just the right size for climbing and nearly impossible to resist, even for someone my age. After scrambling back down from the top of the formation you'll want to go inside the center and visit the inter active displays that help you imagine what this land looked like when it was covered by a pre-Jurassic ocean. A few feet away from that "window" into the origins of VoF is a gift shop full of merchandise ranging from souvenir hats and T -shirts to framed photographs of Hale-Bop-like comets marching across a starry night. (All major credit cards accepted).

Part of this virtual reality tour features a live tour guide-really! To hear park rangers using their story telling skills in describing how the early tribal people worked and played together you have to wonder how much, or how little of that stuff actually happened the way they tell it. Certainly, the authentically clad life like figures on display have no way of setting the record straight. Nor will I ever get to know the names of the dead they're modeled after-an understandable but slightly bemusing omission I encountered repeatedly each time I stopped to look at their scaled down primitive habitats, and read the Park Service's interpretation of what their life and times were like.

You might ask, "what's in a name?" and I would reply, "a life lived", which suggests that it would be nice to know as much if not a little more about the person who wore the moccasins on display as we know about the moccasins themselves. Furthermore, I don't care how much of a man's history was painstakingly recorded on an Anasazi rock wall, or similarly represented on an internet video blog in gigabytes, the fact remains, no amount of scratching the surface with even the most cutting edge research and technology can ever hope to fathom his inner-life, or what we might refer to "as the rest of the story". Indeed, when it comes to knowing that, we're all stuck in the same boat called "mortality", which is why we see [our true spiritual identity, and destiny] "through a glass darkly", waiting patiently, "to know even as also I am known" (1 Cor. 13:12). So, until you and I can begin to grasp what it means to have the "spark of divinity" revealed within us, let each of us, like our ancient counterparts whose names the Park Rangers never knew, continue to make do with what we have, working our rudders this way and that across the deep, guided by the stars, and a strange undersea luminescence that goes before us like a path, and get's brighter the farther out we go...

To be continued.

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