Holy Places

When Moses went up on Mount Sinai to converse with the Lord, he was told to take off his shoes because he was standing on holy ground. I have had several experiences in the past week which have filled me with awe and the distinct impression that I, too, have been standing on holy ground. Maybe not quite as Holy as Sinai, but most definitely Sacred.
The cancer center at Utah Valley Regional Medical Center is holy ground. I firmly believe that there are angels standing sentinel in that building because I felt their presence as I accompanied my grandmother through her procedure on Friday. As we chatted with the doctors and nurses, it was obvious that they, too, realized that the work they do is guarded over by angels. And as for what we talked about afterward on the way home regarding our experiences, well, that's between my grandmother and myself. But for a while, even the cab of my little tin-can truck was a holy place.
Later, on Saturday, I rode down the Provo River trail with hubby. It was nearing sunset in those precious goldeny-silver hours of a late summer afternoon, and that blessed light was streaming through the canopy of trees that lined the river trail, highlighting the confetti of Cottonwood blossoms that sprinkled down like snow around us. It was silent, except for the hum of the gears on my bike, the cool rushing gurgle of the river, and the occasional whistle of a water bird. It was magical. Neither of us said a word for nearly the duration of the ride because we didn't want to break the spell. I, too, had the distinct impression that for the moment, I was again standing (or in this case riding) on holy ground.
In my religion we believe that the seperation between the tangible world and the divine is paper-thin and easily transversed. I count myself lucky to have experienced such a journey this past week.