I stood atop Sentinel Dome, perched high above Yosemite Valley. It was one of many rounded globes of granite in the High Sierras, and likely the one most easily accessible by car. The sun was poised to set, hovering low in the west and bathing the blue-grey stone and evergreen pines in a warm, golden glow. My legs were singing from the hustle up the trail, and my heart was soaring. I wasn’t alone on the dome, not by a long shot. Small clusters of European tourists - taking ad

This blog was originally posted on The Catholic Woman. To listen to the spoken word version of the letter, listen here. My dear sisters, Have you ever wept at the mountains? Have you ever seen something so beautiful, so good that you couldn’t help but release the ache for something more inside of you? Rolling down your face with a few tears and a silent sob. I have. This summer I hiked into the alpine woods to encounter God but found Him along the highway at a tourist site. I