COWGIRL

I’m an old western woman

A cowgirl through and through

But I’ve sold off all the cattle

Just kept a horse and a mule

My memories and photographs 

Of wild and wooly times

Remind me of the days gone by

When I was in my prime 

I still ride the old, familiar trails

The old mule knows them well

We’ve both begun to show our age 

But out there, No one Could tell. 

When I climb into the saddle

My heart and soul return

To the good times...cutting cattle 

Slapping leather, turn and burn. 

We have followed in the footsteps 

Of the girls from long ago

Who rode the broncs and wrestled steers

At the Pendleton Rodeo 

Now it’s time to pass the torch 

Our glory days have passed

Teach the young ones cowgirl ways 

So our traditions last

God’s Promise to Me

Forty years ago God gave me a vision while we were reading our morning devotionals at the kitchen table.   I saw distant mountains with a bright glow behind them. I asked, “Lord, What is this?” And a voice in my heart was so clear.....”This is my Glory shining for you on the other side of the mountains!”  This brief event remains as fresh in my memory as the day it occurred. 

Early this morning, doing devotionals at a table in my daughter’s  seventh floor  hospital room, I looked out the window and saw that same glow behind the mountains in the distance.   

She has been in the hospital for a week, most of it in intensive care, with some serious medical issues that have yet to be resolved.  It has been difficult for her .....and for me as well. 

She has been poked and prodded, tried and tested and seems to be coming out on the other side of it now.  The crisis has passed.

I, too, have experienced  tests of my faith and trust in Jesus,  and in the sovereignty of Almighty God through this ordeal of hers. For me, this has been another refining moment.... more of the dross has been skimmed off transforming me, molding me, making me more in His image.  

I believe He wants what is best for me. I believe that all things work together for good. ...I know He hears my prayers,  and I know I am loved.  Through it all, I am able to say “I trust you, Lord.....no matter what!”  

Seeing that glow that has been a part of me for over forty years, was reassurance and conformation that God’s Glory does shine for me and lights my path. I hope it also shines through me to bless or encourage the people I meet.  

I Trust you, Lord.

I prayed all the way into the hospital as I followed the ambulance that was bringing my daughter to the Emergency Department. A sudden altered level of consciousness and a nearly nonexistent blood pressure prompted a call to 911 soon after dinner. She was pale, blue around her lips, and out of it. I thought she was starting to have a seizure. They were bringing her for evaluation and I was right behind them. My prayers were childish, but sincere.....”Please God, Fix her, heal her, make this okay. I was praying frantically, and I began to pray the only prayer that is always answered......”thy will be done”. This led me to think about God’s sovereignty. My God is sovereign I know this and trust this, and never doubt Him. But, here I was driving into the unknown praying for healing, trusting God and realizing how hard that really is. I was tearful and cried out to Him.....” I trust you , Lord. I know you are sovereign. But in my frail humanness, your sovereignty is really hard.”  
I think I had a small glimpse of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, also asking for “Your will, not mine...” it was hard for him also.

Spring

Daylight is dawning at five AM these days. It’s still chilly, some mornings are even frosty, but it’s definitely Spring. The grass is as green as it will get, trees are budding, horses and dogs shedding, and the swallows and hummingbirds are back. I love watching the birds flying around, they seem to just be having fun.
The Winter blahs are gone, and everyone seems to be happier, ready to get outside and walk, garden, mow, sweep, or any number of chores that mean being out of doors.  The work really starts now, but no one minds.....we are grateful to have been released from the dark winter prison.
The barbecues are ready, lawn chairs and tables have appeared on patios and in yards, neighbors wave and chat over backyard fences.  Soon there will be camping, garage sales, farmers markets, outdoor music venues, parades, and fishing derbies.  We pack an awful lot into a few months of the long days of summer, and Spring is the time to get everything ready for a running start. A few frosty mornings can’t dampen the anticipation of things to come or diminish the energy level that being outside brings.
I’m burning daylight, have got to get out there and get things done.

My gift of Service.....

Amarillo by Morning

The party was nice there was lots of people I know......friends?.......yes, many I call friends. Some, good friends.
There was music and food and the sun was shining warmly.  Thee was laughter and conversation, there were many hugs and birthday wishes.
I still have moments......more than I can count.....of grief and pain when I’m out in the crowd.  I’m a “single” in the midst of a sea of couples. Oh, not everyone is paired, there are other single women, but I only see the happy couples.....the couples like we were once.  One minute I’m talking and smiling, the next I am fighting tears as the reality of loss stabs my heart.
I miss dancing. I miss Jim’s arms holding me as we danced. (“Hang on to me now”). We were pretty good dancers. Steve and Danny played Amarillo by Morning for me. That is the one song we danced to all over the country. It always brings such a flood of memories. This is my acknowledgment of Jim when I’m out listening to music, and my musician friends know this and always play it for me, for him, for us.....for what was. And, for a moment I am able to imagine myself in his arms again and not feel alone.

Come to the Table.....

Listening to Worship music yesterday, singing along with “come to the table, The father’s arms are open wide”, a question ran through my mind the rest of the evening.

How do we all fit at this table? Where is my place at the table? Will there be room for me? WilI I have to sit at the children’s table? Will I get to see Jesus, or will i even get to be close to him, hear him speak, bow before him, touch his garment.

I thought about the billions of souls at the table, most with Better qualifications than I to be seated there. Those that have gone on before, who’s legacy we study, sermons we hear, whose faith we try to emulate. The apostles, and the other followers of Jesus 2000 years ago, those that were persecuted for their faith soon after his death and resurrection. There are people all over the world dying for Their faith. Down through the ages, the faithful have walked through the gates of heaven And are seated at the table. The more recent men and women who have written books, preach sermons, walked the walk.  Smith Wigglesworth, John G Lake, Corrie Ten boom, Billy Graham, Mother Theresa. Pastors, teachers, martyrs, and prophets, most whose names we will never know. But I do know that these are far more worthy than I, they lived a higher life than I live, done more, given more.  I struggle with Temptation and sin daily. I stumble and fall often. Yes, I know a Grace abounds, I am forgiven, I am washed in the blood of Jesus Christ.

I am assured of heaven, but have been wondering how I will find my way to a place at the table, and to a place at the feet of Jesus. There are so many others who also want a place at his feet. How can there be enough room, how can there be a big enough table, how do we all fit?

I had never thought about heaven this way before. I guess I saw A much simpler place....Just me and Jesus.  But the song I sang along with on the radio really got me thinking and wondering just how huge it must be. And, to answer the question myself......as long as I am there, it doesn’t matter where my place is at the table. I know that i will be standing in the presence of my Savior. This is just another mystery, and I will wait patiently for it to unfold. And from now until that day, I will strive to become more like Jesus. 

A Note to my Pastor

Jim,
Your message this week hit me in the heart, as it is something that I have been thinking and praying about  for some time.  The "take home" message for me, was that I need to be doing what I was called to do when Jesus returns.  Convicted, big time, on that point. But, keeping that thought in the front of my mind will make a difference.
My desire is to be more of a servant, a light, to be His hands and feet, and am always amazed when I am used by God, in even a small way, to minister to others. I'm such a broken vessel. I stumble and fall so often each day.  I'm selfish and lazy and greedy....but, then there is a moment when an opportunity presents itself to share or give to someone else, and I see God working through me....and I'm amazed.  Me...He uses Me!  Like the other day, I gave a ride to a young woman who was walking down our country road crying after a fight with her boyfriend. I had been sitting on my porch, but felt led to jump in the car and offer her a ride to wherever she wanted to go. For a few minutes we talked   about  all the natural disasters and I shared thoughts on salvation, repentance, and grace. I loved her willingness to listen, and hope I planted or watered a seed.  Following God's leading.....that little voice.....gave me that amazement. He uses me!  Broken Me!  She has my phone number now.
Your message drove the lesson home for me yesterday.  It was confirmation. He will use even me, if I am willing to listen and act. And, in doing what I am called to do, I find joy and am drawn closer to Him.  Win-win.  

Learning to Live

At first, the tasks before me seemed overwhelming, insurmountable.  My husbands death left me broken, and now, solely responsible for our small ranch with its older home, livestock, fencing and fields. 

Everything seemed to go wrong right away. appliances and fences broke down. winter brought snow that needed plowing and vehicles that needed service. My grief was dark and deep, and I was immobile facing the work before me.  

 A small light appeared when someone suggested that I try to do just five things each day.  That could be a reasonable goal if getting out of bed and getting dressed counted as the first two. I must admit that some days, that's all that I accomplished. 

Soon, I found videos that walked me through the repairs on the refrigerator, and the car. The tractors owners manual taught me how to run the plow and other attachments. My fence building skills improved each time I needed to repair a section or two. I learned to know the difference between doing the things I could do and getting help with the rest.   I mercilessly picked the brains of friends and neighboring farmers for advice and instruction. Asking for help of any kind has always been hard, but I have learned that people want to lend a hand, or an ear, or a shovel.  

As months progressed, I felt pride in the things that I was able to accomplish.  I could see that there was always a solution to the problem, either on you tube or next door. I have learned that I am stronger and more capable than I thought I could be.  I am independent but humble, because I need the people around me for support.  

How are you doing?

It's a compassionate, heartfelt question. Nearly every day someone asks, "How are you doing?"  They  care. I know this. But, I don't give them the answer that is hidden inside my broken heart.  I tell them I'm taking things a day at a time, there are ups and downs, good days and bad.  I appreciate the concern and love I've been shown in the seven months since Jim died. (It's still almost too painful to write those words). The reality is that I feel so much..... The feelings ebb and flow, they attack through a song, a memory, a smell....always unexpected, like a genii popping up out of a bottle, and just as difficult to push back in.
  I feel overwhelmed with sadness, a grief....dark and bleak......I feel broken.
I feel alone, most people have moved on and continue to live as they did before.....not much changed for them when Jim died.  Sure, they miss him, and talk about him, and continue to share memories about him....but they are not broken by his death.  Their sadness faded.  I don't blame them at all, as I have been in that place too.   A friend dies, I make a casserole, sign a card, attend a memorial....then go home for pizza and a movie.  If it's a comedy, I can even laugh.  That has all changed now.  I feel the pain of others who experience a loss, I mark the time with them..... Week one, numb, go through all the photo albums again and again.  Month one, insomnia, fear, anger.  Take care of all the details.  Month two, try to clean a little, maybe remove some clothes and shoes.....or stand in the closet with shirts pressed against your face to smell his aftershave again.  From here on, it's looking for a new normal....who am I without him? How do I do the things we did together, alone.  I am a better friend to my grieving friends now
"Moving on" generates the most anguish. Making memories without him feels empty and wrong.  Laughing or having a good time without him produces guilt. I am trying, but the effort is hollow, for I am but a shell of who I was with him.  I get tearful watching a couple swing dance the way we did, knowing I will not dance again.  I see a shirt or book I know he would like, and miss buying it for him.
As time passes, I miss him all the more. I want to share events, thoughts, trivial conversations, jokes, card games. and especially laughter.  Oh, how we could laugh together.  I want to hold back time, I  resist change, I clutch the pain to my being because somehow it keeps him close. Each day takes me farther away from him.
There are times of joy. I can look at photos once again and smile through the tears. Memories are becoming a comfort, rather that a sword through my heart.  I have a deep, abiding faith and know that we will be together again for Eternity. Jim prayed that little prayer for Salvation, and I saw the change in him as a result.   He was still the same old Brando, but with a kinder, gentler, giving heart. He was assured
of Heaven.
How am I doing?  It's day to day..... I am here.  My thoughts are with him, my tears always close to the surface.  This is me, now, without Jim.  I walk and I talk, and I experience every emotion there is to experience... I will do this until the end, and only then will I be whole, again.