No commentary from the peanut gallery on this one, just a word from Elizabeth Elliot that HITS HOME in the wilderness.
"The only way she could learn trust and obedience was to have things happen which she could not understand. That is where faith begins-- in the wilderness, when you are afraid and alone, when things don't make sense....She must hang onto the message of the Cross: God loves you. He loved you enough to die for you. Will you trust him?"
E. Elliot
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Saturday, July 13, 2013
well-said, Steinbeck
It's time to write. The thoughts from the first days in Montana are welling up in me, ready to spill out.
John Steinbeck wrote of his travels west, “I’m in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection. But with Montana it is love. And it’s difficult to analyze love when you’re in it.”
I’m in it.
When I am in a new place, I am in a constant state of “figuring it out.” I bet our brains are always in figure-it-out-mode, whether or not we're aware of it. I try to understand the people, what are they like? And so I start categorizing (cringe). Here's what I mean: People in D.C. are typically highly motivated individuals who work a ton and love meeting for "brunch" on the weekends. People from Maryland love blue crabs. Or, further from home: I found the people in Scotland to be warm, hospitable, and upbeat. As broad as these generalizations are, I confess, these are all conclusions at which I have arrived.
This summer in Montana, no doubt I am gathering information for my mental files and adding to a working definition of this stunning landscape and the people who call it home. The West has always captivated me. I’ve been in love with the idea of it since I was 12 years-old and bought my first real cowgirl hat. We were driving across Wyoming, and that stretch of southeast Wyoming must have been a defining experience. It seemed so then and now. I had never encountered so wide a prairie or so vast a sky. My 12 year-old heart skipped a beat; and has ever since.
Montana endears itself to me daily. I love the ever-changing clouds over the mountains and the brilliant sunsets. I love the thunder rumbling and the rain on the roof as I write (and getting rained upon on every hike I take). And of course, in addition to “reveling in the beauty” (a phrase my roommates won't let me ever live down, and for good reason) of wildflowers and wildlife and mountain streams, I love the people I’ve met here. I feel more at home here in two weeks than 2 years in D.C.. Hm...
And now, to toot some people’s horns-- I’m privileged to work alongside some individuals who have impressed me. Their giftedness and resourcefulness coupled with their occupation/passion is pretty inspiring. Allow me to introduce you.
I met a friend of a friend who has a pretty unique livelihood. He hunts for elk sheds (when their antlers fall off in spring) and semi-precious stones and pieces of hundred year-old junipers and all kinds of treasures in the mountains. He sells them in his own shop in Bozeman. It’s a workshop unlike any I've ever seen.
Then there’s a wrangler at the ranch who is pursuing his masters in education. In his spare time (ha!), he markets his own leather-working crafts—belts, chinks, and other custom jobs. He’s opening his booth at the Farmer’s Market this week for the first time. During the off-season, away from the ranch and without his leather working tools for a few months, he started making jewelry out of horse-shoe nails and coat racks from old horse shoes. Re-Source-ful.
I also admire my crew-leader, an outstanding horse-woman here at Lone Mountain Ranch who wrangles children and horses with amazing skill and dedication. She’s a rock-star.
All this to say, I’m impressed, Montana, not only with your beauty but also the people I’ve met here. I love the way they use their gifts, and use what they’ve got.
I’ll try not to make any sweeping generalizations as I have before. I can’t label Montana or its people in any one way, nor do I want to. These mountains don’t fit inside any of my mental files any more than any person could.
I can’t put this starry Big Sky in a box. So I’ll take a page out of Steinbeck’s book, and won’t try to analyze love when I’m in it. This is a gift. And love feels a lot like gratitude. I am grateful.
John Steinbeck wrote of his travels west, “I’m in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection. But with Montana it is love. And it’s difficult to analyze love when you’re in it.”
I’m in it.
When I am in a new place, I am in a constant state of “figuring it out.” I bet our brains are always in figure-it-out-mode, whether or not we're aware of it. I try to understand the people, what are they like? And so I start categorizing (cringe). Here's what I mean: People in D.C. are typically highly motivated individuals who work a ton and love meeting for "brunch" on the weekends. People from Maryland love blue crabs. Or, further from home: I found the people in Scotland to be warm, hospitable, and upbeat. As broad as these generalizations are, I confess, these are all conclusions at which I have arrived.
This summer in Montana, no doubt I am gathering information for my mental files and adding to a working definition of this stunning landscape and the people who call it home. The West has always captivated me. I’ve been in love with the idea of it since I was 12 years-old and bought my first real cowgirl hat. We were driving across Wyoming, and that stretch of southeast Wyoming must have been a defining experience. It seemed so then and now. I had never encountered so wide a prairie or so vast a sky. My 12 year-old heart skipped a beat; and has ever since.
Montana endears itself to me daily. I love the ever-changing clouds over the mountains and the brilliant sunsets. I love the thunder rumbling and the rain on the roof as I write (and getting rained upon on every hike I take). And of course, in addition to “reveling in the beauty” (a phrase my roommates won't let me ever live down, and for good reason) of wildflowers and wildlife and mountain streams, I love the people I’ve met here. I feel more at home here in two weeks than 2 years in D.C.. Hm...
And now, to toot some people’s horns-- I’m privileged to work alongside some individuals who have impressed me. Their giftedness and resourcefulness coupled with their occupation/passion is pretty inspiring. Allow me to introduce you.
I met a friend of a friend who has a pretty unique livelihood. He hunts for elk sheds (when their antlers fall off in spring) and semi-precious stones and pieces of hundred year-old junipers and all kinds of treasures in the mountains. He sells them in his own shop in Bozeman. It’s a workshop unlike any I've ever seen.
Then there’s a wrangler at the ranch who is pursuing his masters in education. In his spare time (ha!), he markets his own leather-working crafts—belts, chinks, and other custom jobs. He’s opening his booth at the Farmer’s Market this week for the first time. During the off-season, away from the ranch and without his leather working tools for a few months, he started making jewelry out of horse-shoe nails and coat racks from old horse shoes. Re-Source-ful.
I also admire my crew-leader, an outstanding horse-woman here at Lone Mountain Ranch who wrangles children and horses with amazing skill and dedication. She’s a rock-star.
All this to say, I’m impressed, Montana, not only with your beauty but also the people I’ve met here. I love the way they use their gifts, and use what they’ve got.
I’ll try not to make any sweeping generalizations as I have before. I can’t label Montana or its people in any one way, nor do I want to. These mountains don’t fit inside any of my mental files any more than any person could.
I can’t put this starry Big Sky in a box. So I’ll take a page out of Steinbeck’s book, and won’t try to analyze love when I’m in it. This is a gift. And love feels a lot like gratitude. I am grateful.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)