Why the Canyon is Called Grand

            I’ve long believed that a picture is not only worth a thousand words but that, sometimes, a word is worth a thousand pictures.

            Today, however, is not one of those times.

            Without a doubt, in all the literary miles we’ve traveled, we have seen some of the most poetic, picturesque words leave an indelible impression on our hearts and in our spirits. Have we all not read of the great brown river that looked miles and miles across, or of going not only the one mile but going the second mile, too, or of having promises to keep and miles to go before we sleep?

              Miles to go before we sleep.

            But when we take the pen in hand to describe walking up to one of the most majestic views in the world, do not expect these words today to be worth a thousand pictures. Should they prove to be worth one picture that would be enough.

            Let's travel back to July 18, 2009. On that day, the amazin' blonde and I walked up to the Grand Canyon early on a Saturday morning. That scene took every ounce of breath we had away, much the same way as when I saw that amazing lady walk down the aisle on October 24, 1975, dressed in white lace and her face shining like the sun. Oh, I was young then, but I knew beauty when I saw it. Why, just the thought of that beauty is worth ten thousand words, even ten thousand times ten thousand.

            On both of these occasions, I am surprised that nobody had to run and call 9-1-1. That precisely is how stunning some views are. As I beheld the scene at the canyon, I wrote a thousand thoughts in my mind and jotted a number of them on a scrap piece of paper I carried with me. As soon as we hit the front door in Texas, I went straight to my desk to attempt to describe in more detail the new beauty that I had just beheld for the first time.

I knew we had to share with all of you who open the newspaper faithfully each week to discuss life with us on this front porch.

            We could not see the canyon’s beauty initially. The view was blocked by a small cluster of trees. But we knew that just beyond the trees, the canyon would open up, like a book for us to read. We just didn’t know the book's beauty until our eyes told us.

            There is no doubt there are a thousand vantage points from which to admire the canyon. Hundreds of miles are in wide-open view, and millions of other small, obscure sections are hidden away. But in the crisp air that sunny morning, we were afforded the most splendid view of the canyon that one could ever hope to behold. There could be none better than this.

            From that special vantage point, we could see the vastness of the canyon with thousands of giant rock ships, like a naval fleet preparing for battle.

            We could see her flatbeds of strength and her colorful towers of glory.

            We could see beds of red rock, like rubies, stretched out across her walls.

           Far above, we could see a rock castle standing triumphantly at the tip-top of the bedrock, and beneath it, a sandy waterfall cascaded down at its feet.

            Down below, on her rocky floor, sat a pool of green water that looked like a small puddle a child might play in after a rain. There were white streaks in the distant water that looked harmless from our seven-thousand-foot-high vantage point, but, in reality, the snow-white threads are the violent white-water sputterings of the powerful Colorado River.

            From our special view, we could see the west wall of the canyon, dotted with little tree soldiers, a thousand of them standing guard.

            A quick glance to the north, and the canyon divides into block sections, like a quilt, each one containing its unique story.

            We could see all of this and more in the best view the canyon offers.

            We walked up to her respectfully, as though we were walking up to talk to God. For we knew God had been there. We saw the carving of His divine hand. We witnessed the strokes of His paintbrush. We marveled at His delicate sculpting. And, in the foggy distance, we could hear the echoing of His voice.

            All of this from the most stunning view of the canyon.

            Though we spent half the day admiring the great edifice from many angles and elevations, there was no view that compared with this special one, no view that stole our breath like a bandit on the prowl.

            In a split second, our eyes answered the question, “Is it worth it?” a thousand times over. Should you go there, brace yourself when you come to this special place, because no other view will compare. It only lasts a moment, so you must embrace it.

            This view is not a particular spot, or some unique angle, or even a secret vantage point. No, the best view is something else. You will never see a more beautiful view of the canyon than when the majestic curtain is rolled back and there … before unsuspecting eyes … you get your very first glimpse of her.

That view, that first glimpse, is the best of all.

It will take your breath utterly away, much as it did the day I saw a young lady dressed in matchless white beauty coming down the aisle toward me.

It is true. One picture can be worth ten thousand words, but one moment in time can be worth ten thousand pictures, too.

  April 27, 2026