As I sit writing this, I remember standing on the Sierra Crest and gazing to the west. Below me lies a basin floored with green sedge and spotted with ponds reflecting the sky. Around it, granite peaks reach to the sky. High lakes nestle in their arms above the main basin.
At its lower edge, the basin narrows, steepens and turns west. it becomes a canyon cutting deeper and deeper toward the distant San Joaquin Valley.
On clear days you can faintly see the Valley and the outline of the Coast Ranges beyond. The wide blue sky stretches over everything–the Valley, the coastal mountains, and the cities and people of the Bay Area beyond.
I feel these all contain something of what we call God. they are all parts of this wonderful whole. No part and no person is less important than another.
Parts of the Bay Area have become home for those less fortunate socially and economically than others. In some areas cultures of crime and violence have developed among some individuals trying to make their way through life.
However, I remember that wide sky and God’s presence in these people, and see their faces in my mind’s eye. I know that the most impoverished person has infinite worth.
As I look to the sky in my neighborhood, I remember that it’s the same sky that stretches over the peaks and mountain meadows. The grass that sprouts from a cracked sidewalk is the same kind of plant that grows near a lake. We are all one under God’s wide sky–and what a sky!