Standing here in the Navajo Sandstone canyons formed of tiny grains of quartzite 180 million years ago, you get a little perspective. Anasazi stood here. And Paiute. And Brigham Young’s pioneers, looking for lost sheep.

The daily things fall away in this grandeur. It won’t matter if the walks get shoveled at home; if the door to the chicken coop is loose; if the letters don’t get written. Maybe not even if the books don’t get finished.

These red formations spread for hundreds of miles–elegant and commanding. I feel like a bird. I put my head back and expect I’ll be able to trill. In the way that I can, I’m celebrating a life that enriched mine and has now returned to the red dust, the grains of sand, to time. Jennifer was as exuberant as these red canyons and what she represented is as lasting. One of her close friends said to me, “I have this idea about life. There are angels among us and they don’t stay long. They come to teach us things and then they’re gone.” I’m not much on angels, but that was Jennifer for me.

The immensity of the earth, of life. Ken went on to say, “Jennifer could only see the good in people.” It’s what I’ll most remember of her, and of this warm day, standing in these ancient formations extending time out of mind.

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