The Beautiful Hillside

I’ve just returned from San Diego, my escape haven when summer heat tries to choke the life out of Arizona. There’s a limit to the number of 110 degree days mind and body can tolerate. Many years ago, I lived in San Diego and since those days I have visited the beautiful landscape dozens of times. Balboa Park, the Botanic Gardens, wonderful seafood, and Cabrillo Point high above the city in Point Loma always offer relaxation and joy. Did I mention magnificent beaches? So, having just returned, and re-living the charm of the Southern California city, I have begun to wonder why I am drawn to the Cabrillo National Monument site. It provides a stunning view of the entire city, overlooks the San Diego ship channel with its commercial traffic and the U.S. Navy vessels sailing in and out, and it is adjacent to the Cabrillo National Cemetery.

And I think that’s the answer. I am deeply moved by the peaceful beauty of that sacred ground. Hundreds of rows of white marble headstones follow the contour of the undulating hillside. Thick green grass, manicured carefully, blankets the grounds. It is starkly beautiful, especially when you drive slowly along the narrow streets and read an assortment of human history. A military member and his wife rest side by side. Who was the young Lieutenant whose name is etched in the stone? The Corporal who came back from Viet Nam to this quiet sanctuary? World War II, Korea, View Nam…so many places from which they returned, having offered themselves in service and sacrifice.

And this year, the trees dotted through the grounds have decided to bloom bright red and to offer shade under their wide-spread arms. Morbid? No. Melancholy? Maybe. Moving? Without question. I love the seaside city with its delightful variety of attractions, but I am irresistibly drawn to the hillside, a holy place of silent rest. Upon my return from this recent visit, I sit, at this moment, in the darkness of the early morning and I pray with genuine thanksgiving for all who rest in the beautiful hillside, a chorus of courage. And I end my prayer with these words: Please, God, no more.