The Shrine of St. Joseph of the Mountains has long been a place off the main highway that goes through Yarnell. It suffered significant damage during the Yarnell Hill Fire of 2013. On its 75th. Anniversary a year later, I was asked to be the keynote speaker and the following is my impressions of this quiet place that holds my heart.
This Quiet Place
Jesus deeply valued time in quiet places such as the Garden of Gethsemane for prayer to the Father and reflection on his journey. He would have been much at home here among the rocks, oaks, brush and boulders. The natural grottos of Yarnell have been for generations a place of shelter for creatures and people, away from the stream of progress less than a mile away. What began in the early 1930s has been for countless people, both those who reside and those who travel through, a place of solace and reflection. No doubt you have your own story of finding the Shrine and for some it is a journey taken many times.
In the early 1980s a motorcycle run from Phoenix to Flagstaff always brought me through Yarnell. It’s hard to resist a departure from HWY 89 to sneak a peek at the quaintness of the village and on one of those departures I found the Shrine. It became for me thereafter a respite of choice with each trip. Many years later, my wife and I came by car and walked the Stations of the Cross together. When we arrived at the station of Jesus upon the cross, there, hanging upon the statue’s feet were a pair of baby shoes. We caught our breath. Why, what was the story? We will never know but someone found their personal connection, whether in grief or thankfulness, here in this beautiful, peaceful and holy place.
Over the years I have been a pastor here I have walked these paths alone, officiated at weddings and celebrated the seventh anniversary of the Shrine with many of you. Now as we do so on the seventy-fifth much has changed. The scars of the Yarnell Hill Fire are stark reminders of suffering and loss continuing for many a year after the event. Barney Wasson, who poured his life into this sanctuary, blesses heaven now with his presence and Maria Louisa carries on without him. Recovery moves along, slow it seems at times, but out of that has come a deepening of relationships and a joining of hands and spirit that makes it easy for us to take the time to hear another’s story and walk with them for a while on their journey.
One of the many people who came to help us this last year was Paul Chastain, representing one of the Lion’s Clubs of Prescott. Their help has been gracious and deeply appreciated. He came to the Shrine and viewed some of the loss, later remarking to me that the cross upon which Jesus hung had been burned away and yet the statue of Jesus remained in full view, not moved from its pinned mounts. Paul was concerned that “Jesus would fall.” I answered him in terms more than he asked for or perhaps realized when I said, “Jesus will be OK!” Among the miracles we have experienced and the epiphanies we have had, surly the presence of Jesus with outstretched arms, freed from the cross is one for us to hold dear. His eternal hope is evidenced in this place where the ground is holy and the gifts of so many are sanctified.
In God’s good time this place of worship and reflection will be restored. People will continue to walk its stations and the quiet of it will only be gently embossed by laughter and conversation across the way at the new retreat center. None of us expect God to wave a wand and all appear in an instant. There are many lessons of divine importance to learn as we come together as volunteers and friends to aid with muscle and money the recreation of what is part of our souls as citizens of this place. Some weeks ago now, there was a huge pile of burned slash near where the gift shop had been. A group of young people had come from a church in Scottsdale to work as volunteers for a week. I must admit that I expected them to bolt when they saw the pile they were to load on my trailer. They did not. To a bright young face they grabbed limbs and stumps and worked away until the load was done and then off we went to the slash pile along the highway where they worked just as hard unloading. By that time they looked more like a union of chimney sweeps than a Scottsdale youth group, except of course, for the smiles on their smutty faces. They will not forget their experience here nor will they pass through our village, I expect, without departing from HWY 89 to take a peek at the restoration in which they have shared.
There are things to remember as we move along. We must take care of each other; we are our brother and sister’s keeper. We must listen closely to what is not said so that we may more clearly understand what is spoken. We must embrace another’s hurt even when expressed in anger. We must take time for ourselves to be refreshed in spirit, body and soul. We must, as Jesus often did, go away to a quiet place. I can think of none more representative of who we are than here where we have shed tears and hugs, sweat and prayers. And don’t be surprised if during the hush of your soul in contemplation that you hear the still, small voice of one up among the boulders who has been with us all the time.
From my heart….Paul
Comments to Paul? paul@churchinyarnell.org
