Thursday, January 28, 2010

One of my favorite places to travel to is a place in Oklahoma, close to the Arkansas border, on Winding Stair Mountain. The place I visit is called Winding Stair Campground. It is also where the Ouachita Trail crosses Hwy 1 on the way to Talimena State Park, about 4 miles from Hwy 259 on the west side. Having read about this infamous spot in old news clippings, I decided to write this story. If you're familiar with the event you'll appreciate the historical accuracy; if you are unfamiliar with it, well, you have a bit of research to do. If I am amiss in any details, forgive me, I'm not perfect. I hope you enjoy it. - Jeff

A few years back an older couple was enjoying a camping trip, one of 25 they went on yearly. The year was 2003. The peace and solitude they sought was just a couple hours away on a mountain they had grown to love dearly. Their marriage had grown stronger every year because they loved the same things: nature, the sounds of God's creation, the sharing. They loved even more the simplicity of such times to retreat away from the rush and noise of Fort Worth. Their love of God was also precious to them. He had answered many prayers and pleas to provide for them and soothe them with the 'time off' that kept them in touch with Him and others.
This time was no different...but it was.
One of their best destinations was a small campground on a northern ridge in the Winding Stair Mountains. Hardly anyone went there, much. Usually the water supply was non-existent though there were showers and toilets. Perhaps that is why it was so desolate much of the time. So they went...again. Happy. Seeking.
Another had the same destination in mind. He was a prison guard. He stored up in his person the many instances of hate, greed, violence, and hopelessness that he witnessed daily in his work. In such an environment it was hard to forget and to deal with. Perhaps he thought of peace often...and furiously. So he went out alone many times to distance himself from others. It was a practice that took a very wrong turn. Why need another at all if the outcome was housed behind brick walls and steel, a constant reminder of relationships that play out and die. So out he went, to a place he heard of on a northern ridge on some remote mountain range. Maybe he looked up to the hills one day and saw it - who would really know? His traveling companions were odd: pieces of burlap, a guille suit, a .22 rifle.
The day was peaceful for the couple. They just wandered Highway 1 to Talihina and back. A nice, easy drive. They sat in their car at the campground and talked and listened to the wind in the trees and the birds chuckling in the shrubs. The evening was approaching like a blanket being pulled over a sleeping baby. Their love was spoken to one another in many ways. Their God was blessing them with peace and joy all rolled into one in this one, perfect evening...to be as one with God and each other. The cracks were heard only by the creatures of the mountain; and one startled pair of ears that were a moment later silenced.
Hope and hopelessness had met. Two at peace with God and man; the other never knew such peace.
It was a motorcyclist who found the couple a day later. Their love had brought them to God's bosom in a remote campground on a northern ridge in the Winding Stair Mountains.

In Memory of Charles and Shirley Chick, who loved and went to God.

Jeff Stull, 2008