The Last Best Place





One year ago today, I began the journey west to my new home for the summer--Glacier National Park, Montana.

I made lifelong friends.

I learned that grizzly bears are fast; really, really fast. They can also eat a moose calf at a mind-boggling speed.

I learned that to survive a nine-hour shift in the dish pit, it helps to eat several bowls of moose moss (mint chocolate chip ice cream) and sing every song imaginable, from hymns to Broadway musicals, while scrubbing the endless stream of dishes.

I experienced the awe-inspiring presence of God as I fell asleep under the stars while watching the meteor shower. The Milky Way was overhead and the river was at my feet. If you ever need a reminder of God's power, spend the night somewhere outside where there is no light pollution from man-made sources. You will never be the same.

 I miss the river and the teal, pink, grey, red, and purple rocks glistening beneath the surface.

I miss seeing mountain goats, bighorn sheep, grizzly bears, elk, and moose on my drive over the Pass every Sunday.

I miss the mountains.

It was the summer of a lifetime.

Montana has my heart forever.