“Fay Canyon 1997” by Karen E. Faith

 

October 13, 2026

As I glance at the photo, this constant companion that sits on my desk, I know I am drifting off again losing focus on the task at hand. The image draws me back to a pivotal time in my life and in the life of our family.

During the winter break that year in 1997 Bill and I traveled to Arizona with our three children. This was a much-needed family holiday. Our son Andrew returned home for the holidays from McGill. Our eldest daughter Jess was completing her degree with the hope of becoming an occupational therapist, and our youngest child Sheryl, 17 at the time, played volleyball while planning her way to university and beyond. We were together, which itself was cause for celebration. This trip to Sedona had more significance than I could have imagined.

In the few years prior, Bill’s father had descended into dementia. In most cases dementia impacts the entire family with crisis and complications that can seem daily.  This week-long escape to Sedona meant that for a short period, Bill could enjoy a much-needed break.

Sedona has red rock canyons and magnificent vistas which are even more beautiful at Christmas time. Snow laced the tops of the canyon peaks while holiday lights created a joyful glow at night summoning hot chocolate and warm sweaters.

Throughout our stay the light snow fell like a lacey curtain over the peaks and valleys of red rock. I can still feel the coziness and warmth of our hotel room knowing the kids were next door enjoying the experience as much as we were.  Bill was at his best ensuring there would be plenty of memory-making laughter and adventure. 

During this period, I had decided to change careers to study bioethics. Other than a persistent internal push for change, I had little clarity of where this path would eventually lead. It seems foolishly reckless to me now. I was 45 experiencing all the uncertainty and soul searching that can come at midlife. 

It was a struggle to keep focused and sustain my equanimity.  Our children were launching steadily, finding their life path. My spouse was burning out from the demands of career and the increasing responsibilities he faced with his parents.

We were told at the time that Fay Canyon is considered a sacred area for the indigenous peoples of this region in Arizona so we booked a guided hike for the family. Our tour guide led us through a hiking path bringing us to a higher elevation where the ridges of this magnificent canyon could be best appreciated.

There were rock formations carved by the wind and sand, painted with striated hues of grey, beige and red. On some cliffs these bands of colour were horizontal, while on others, the stripes were vertical. The veil of falling snow made the view surreal to us, softening the rock’s sharper edges.

I turned to scan the entire canyon trying to soak in the beauty and peace of the moment. Then, something extraordinary caught my attention. Grabbing my camera I took several shots. What appeared to me to the right of where we all stood was a cliff profile that looked like that of an indigenous person. The profile had a curved headdress with a sloped forehead beneath. The nose was softly angled. The lips were full with a gentle sloping chin.

After taking photos, I excitedly pointed it out to my family. I asked the tour guide when this might have been sculpted into the cliff and by whom. His surprise was quite evident. He had toured this canyon for several years never once noticing what appeared so evident to us on that snowy winter day.

I printed the photo and have kept it in a frame on my desk ever since. This photo followed me through a new and challenging career in bioethics. It has been there through the loss of loved ones, other personal challenges as well as joyous occasions like the birth of grandchildren.

What I captured on film that day has brought me great comfort. It reminds me again and again of life’s hidden treasures and the brief moments of inspiration that can change and challenge our perspective when it is most needed.

 On those very challenging days when I face uncertainty, when life becomes complicated as it often does as one gets older, the picture draws me back to a magnificent experience. It brings me calm and has carried me through many doubtful times. It reassures me that there is something more eternal, more spiritually significant and greater than life’s daily distractions like this one in which I drift away from the task at hand.

***

Karen Faith is a retired social worker, educator and bioethicist living in Toronto with her husband and extended family. Her stories which have appeared in the Canadian Jewish News and The Globe and Mail are a part of a legacy of short stories she is compiling for her much loved six grandkids. 

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