Woodside, Utah never meant much to them because they weren’t churchgoers.
Hadn’t sat in a pew since back in Havre, Montana.
Seven days and seven nights they could have stood on the west bank of the Price River.
Had they not been chasing more earthly pursuits they couldn’t have missed the angels.
There must have been a thousand of those angels and not a one too busy to rescue a lost soul or shine a light into the darkness.
Not one of those angels wouldn’t have passed along some grace where it was needed most.
