Church
The Big Hole Valley There aren’t very many people in church today. It’s the Sunday after Easter and I am in church for the first time in a long time. The white steeples of the southern Bitterroot Mountains shine in the early morning sun. I am alone in the front row, sitting on the dented hood of the little Honda that has carried me out to Big Hole Pass for a sunrise service. I haven’t seen a car for nearly forty miles, just the winding two lanes of Highway 38 leading out into the distance. I have all my patron saints guiding me on this journey. Saint George of Strait began my pilgrimage with Amarillo By Morning. Saint David of Ball brought me “There Stands the Glass' ' and now Saint Luke of Bell is singing “Glory and the Grace,” a song about living on the road and looking in the golden windows of people in their cozy cabins. Their gospels are blaring through the windshield as a frigid breeze forces me to snug my Carhart zipper higher. It may be the middle of April, but the Gr