My Sacred Place

That Little Voice

A few miles from a small town in southeastern Oklahoma is a state park where robbers, crooks, thieves and notorious thugs eluded law officers in early day Oklahoma.

The rough hills and rocky terrain provided shelter and beneficial lookout advantage for outlaws including the Colt brothers and Belle Starr, making it a perfect hideout, but a place of frustration for many sheriffs and their posse members.

The wooded and strenuous hills became known as Robbers Cave State Park, and is now a favorite retreat for those seeking quiet refuge from today’s tensions. Fishing, swimming, camping, climbing, horseback riding, or simply reminiscing in front of a campfire just steps away from a CCC-era cabin offers quiet seclusion to me.

I was born in the nearby community 81 years ago and the park is my heart’s home. I spent summers finding trails through the woods, glimpsing deer, swimming in the lake, eating potato salad and fried chicken at family picnics on the lake’s edge, changing clothes in the 1930’s built bathhouse, and watching as the rising and setting sun altered the focus of the landscape.

This small spot on the earth’s surface holds a revered place that soothes my soul. Tree-lined creeks, hidden fishing holes, caves and natural rock formed corrals, provide a mystical peace where I feel hidden, alone, and one with the world and with myself.

Holidays, honeymoons, family reunions, playtime, peacetime, alone, and with crowds, I’ve been there for all, standing in the rain, feeling the heat of summer, watching as the fall colors come and disappear, and studying snow flakes during cold winters.

I’ve watched as fog tries to hide the calm waters on cool mornings, and pools of water house hungry fish. I’ve become lost in my meanderings, but eventually find my way back to the shore of my beloved lake.

This is my heart’s home, my sacred place.