Doing my best rendition of favorite traveler Charles Kuralt, I had been zigzagging barren and desolate dirt roads for hours.
It was the kind of place where bison roam freely and prairie dogs skitter along the fence line from time to time. There was little to break the vista and the only thing following me was the dust cloud of my lone vehicle.

Driving in such an unfettered openness was hypnotic and it was quite awhile before I realized I was completely and utterly lost. Having long passed the moon-like spires of the notably more rugged Badland terrain, I found myself surrounded by the softer and gentler prairie grasslands.

As I slowed the car to scan the horizon, I found myself issuing a muffled 'Dear God, where did I miss the turn?' The only sounds to answer were the tall grasses bent by the warm winds. Not a living soul for miles. And that?s when I caught site of the sturdy white cross perched high atop a stark white steeple in the distance. While I don?t consider myself religious, I am spiritual. I nodded and smiled to myself--not as lost and alone after all.