Instead of going to my Biology lecture on the morning of April 14, I rushed to the valley to enjoy the final dusting of snow for the season. 

Long before the morning fog had a chance to lift, I parked my Xterra on the shoulder of North Ranch Road and hoofed it up to the crest of the Lyons hogback with my camera gear draped across my shoulders. Aside from the crunch of frozen, red sand beneath my boots, it was deafeningly silent. But my heart pounded with joy and excitement, knowing I had the hogback all to myself that morning. 

T’was a perfect time and place to stare across the valley and talk with the Lord for awhile. 

My heart was troubled. University had been taking quite a toll on me, emotionally and spiritually, at least. I wasn’t struggling academically. I wasn’t struggling to take good physical care of myself. But damn… the city life had me tired, and I felt completely and hopeless out-of-place at university for numerous reasons (many of which I’ve written about in prior pieces). 

Alone on that hogback, I didn’t feel lonely or alienated in any way, shape, or form. I felt like I was right where I belonged; surrounded by God’s creation in a little slice of God’s country, just five minutes from my driveway. The hogback was one of the many places in Ken Caryl Valley I came to worship; it was- and is- my church. 

But, I didn’t come to the hogback just to revel in God’s beautiful creation. I came there to pray. So, I set aside my camera gear, brushed some frost and snow away from a patch of exposed sandstone, and sat down with my knees to my chest. 

A million thoughts whirled through my mind as I struggled to come up with a comprehensible prayer. However, I knew that God heard me, and understood me better than I understood myself. He knew what I was asking for that frosty April morning, even though I struggled to articulate it. That alone gave me enough peace and clarity to rein in my thoughts and finally pause to listen for His still, soft voice.  

Before me lay a valley between two hogbacks. I was perched atop the smaller hogback, facing the larger hogback that guarded the mountains from the plains, and blocked my view of the Denver skyline. As I stared at the rocky hogback directly ahead of me, noticing the different shades of tan, green, and grey that washed over it, I noticed the song of a single Spotted Towhee. He was perched atop a nearby Mountain Mahogany bush, which was just starting to sprout some leaves. Then, farther away somewhere in the Gambel oaks, I could hear California Scrub Jays and Blue Jays calling over each other, as though they were competing for airtime. Magpies and Mountain Chickadees also conversed with one another among the trees, adding to nature’s orchestra. 

Directly behind the Towhee was a break in the hogback, revealing just a bit of the plains to the east, but nothing more. A slight breeze kicked up a bit, too, just enough to stir the very top branches of the foliage around me. With it, I caught the piney scent of a nearby Juniper, as well as the smell of wet wood from the Gamble oaks.

I took in a long, deep breath of the crisp, wintry air, just as flurries began to drift out of the silver sky. There, seated on that sandstone in the presence of the Lord and His creation, I finally felt completely at peace. 

In that moment, I felt that no matter what the future held for me, it would all be okay; God had my back. I just had to trust Him. 

Awhile after my little talk with God on the hogback, I sauntered back to my Xterra as an old cowboy song called “The Place Where I Worship” played in my mind.