THE HOLY PLACE

Many years ago, we went to the mountains on a camping trip and sat under the canopy of the beautiful evening sky. The stars were sparkling and appeared to have a silvery shimmer. They looked like little punctuation marks. The silhouette of majestic pine trees, reaching toward the heavens, completed the picture. It was awe inspiring. My eyes followed the slender trunk of the pines from the bottom to the top. The branches were outstretched like welcoming arms and were evenly positioned. I was impressed by the pine's perfect shape. So majestic and regal. Beautiful! Banners were displayed at the base of the pine trees and one caught my eye that said, ''Stand ye in holy places.'' I thought to myself, "How perfect the setting," and that it was indeed a "Holy Place." Where else on earth can one go to feel the presence of Heavenly Father? Surely, this would be considered a holy place.

Our camp site was surrounded by beautiful groves of pine trees; and as I relished in my feelings of closeness to Heavenly Father, it dawned on me that the story of life was told in this setting. In the middle of the grove were two dead trees--elderly husband and wife, I believe. They were the grandparents and had lived a long time on earth. Their time was over and only their lifeless brown branches remained. Seedlings were growing everywhere--grandchildren. They were new to the earth--stretching and growing towards the heavens. Their boughs were colored bright kelly green, whereas the more mature trees, their parents, were dark forest green. Mom and Dad grew side by side showing them the way. ''Grow straight and tall and look to the heavens," they whispered as the wind rustled through their branches. Our lovely wooded campsite, home to us for the weekend, indeed, felt like a holy place.