Know that this afternoon, this evening, maybe minutes from now, angry storm clouds can gallop over the horizon, dumping damnation and buckets of bale down this same dry draw. We call them gully washers. News folks call them flash floods. Whatever you call them, they are but a flash in the pan of terrifying and terrific natural wonders that often drive us to dwell on the divine. All around us, pure, winking water bubbles from its hidden and mysterious source deep within the earth.
Birds call, elk bugle, wolves howl, antelope snort, cougars scream and the elements rage.
Summers, the priests at the Chapel of the Sacred Heart, near Signal Mountain Lodge in Grand Teton, leave the door unlocked for those who want to stop. Father Putka, now retired after 17 summers at the chapel, used to say Yellowstone country is so beautiful that people are often moved to commune with their Maker. While some prefer to do so outside, many seek the sanctuary of these chapels. Several of them feature picture windows behind the altars. In each, if the tip of the cross on the altar were a gun sight, it would be perfectly aligned with the very top of a spectacular mountain in the distance.