A Picture’s Worth a 1,000 Words
Two summers ago I traveled to Montana with some friends to visit their uncle and my friend, Fr. John. He lives in assisted living, but we managed to get him out to go up the mountain on a school bus to a clearing with a teepee where a chef prepared a wonderful meal. It was a place where you could smell and feel the history of the land. The wind in the tree tops whispered of the long ago years when Native Americans sat around the fire and the medicine man healed the ill. I felt the spirit of the land there.
When it came time for our visit to end, we stopped to say good-bye to Fr. John. He gave us all a blessing as we readied to travel the road to Yellowstone Park, another place where spirits dwell just around the bend or over the next hill. I’ve always felt that peacefulness in Yellowstone. I wanted to get something that said, “Big Sky Wyoming” and my friends’ cousin told us about a little gas stop that sold the tourist wares. He said it was right near a church.
After buying the souvenir, we stopped at the church. It was inside that something unexplainable happened. The mountains were framed in a large window behind the altar of the church. It was a magnificent view. A lady that was visiting the church also volunteered to take our picture in front of the window. As she took my camera and set up the shot, she asked me if I was spiritual. I laughed and said, “We’re all Catholic.” She told me to come down and look into the camera.
I looked at my friends through the lens and saw what she was getting at; there was a large rose colored arc over all of us. We looked all around but there was no reflection, no explanation. She proceeded to do this with each person’s camera. The same rose hue was above us in each camera. I then volunteered to take a picture of her and her friend.
When I looked through the lens at them, there was no rose colored hue above them. We looked at our cameras when we got to the car, the rose color was still in the pictures.
When we got to Yellowstone, I took out my camera and looked again, the color was gone. It was the same in all the cameras. When the pictures were put on the computers or developed, there was no rose hue. I believe the rose color came from the energy that was given off from the five of us in addition to it being a very spiritual place. It was a soldiers’ chapel and outside were graves. I also believe that the blessing we were given by Fr. John also came into play.
Why the rose hue was not in the other people’s camera, I have no explanation. This was the first experience in my travels that held a mystery, a question that pulled me into the world of spirit. My interest was lit on fire.