For more than fifteen years, my family lived in the midst of a claustrophobic, somewhat neglected section of Boston. We had to navigate idling buses spewing their toxic fumes and idling drunken men-often spewing toxins of another sort. Depending on what time we left the house, it could take nearly thirty minutes to travel the two miles across town. The neighborhood was the antithesis of everything my soul craved.

An arboretum within walking distance of our home served as my spiritual life-line during this season. There was a small knoll, surrounded by towering pine trees and overlooking a creek. I claimed this spot as my personal chapel. Whether I was praying, reading, or simply being, the beauty of this place became like manna which fed and sustained me.

Though not everyone is wired to find God in nature as I do, we are all designed to recognize and respond to the sacred call of beauty.

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