Some lessons are painful

 Recently, Lochlan went missing on a trail hike he was on with a friend of ours. He sometimes bursts with energy and takes off at a gallop, no matter the technicality or elevation gain of a trail. My most serious concern on this particular trail system was that he might become confused about all the adjoining trails and ultimately lose his way back to the car, even though this is a trail he is familiar with. However, we all spread out to find each of those intersections and we did indeed find him at one of them, clearly debating which path to choose. He was completely unconcerned about the fact that he was solo hiking at the point and he wasn't worried about whether he might not know the way. 

{Lochlan will be wearing a GPS device on all hikes now}

I've been considering this incident a lot; it is representative of so much. With Lochlan, I've been searching, hunting for answers, desperately trying to find the path (forward) where he can be found, feeling incredibly lost in the process, rabidly fighting fear, not knowing where to look, wondering, waiting, running, hoping, and trying to remember to breathe. The search feels endless, the mountain(s) daunting. 

And, simultaneously, I wonder in my own life, in my own walk of faith, of living, am I so often like Lochlan, running the trail ahead of me in oblivion to all that I'm missing as I carry onward, not realizing I'm alone when I don't have to be? Am I approaching the crossroads without careful consideration, without the input and perspective of others who might well know better the path forward? 

I'm responsible to train up these young men to be all they can be. Yet, I find they are the ones training me in the way(s) they live their lives, in the fullness of their compassion, through the kindness in their hearts, through the challenges they face and conquer. I also find myself learning through the incredibly difficult things we encounter together, like the hunt for our missing wanderer. 

Tomorrow's mountain paths may be familiar, or they may be new and require something we don't yet know we have. 

I literally don't have a title

 

The miles I've traveled... the miles yet to go; they are a gift, a treasure. I have almost 300,000 miles on this old truck and yet when I go to start if each morning, it never fails me. I know it will age out someday, but not this day. This adventure mobile has been such a gift to me and it has carried me from one beautiful memory to another. When I reflect back upon even just the last two weeks, I find a thousand moments, memories I want to hold onto and savor. 

The blessing of family: parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles and adopted family. None of us get to see each other enough, so when we are afforded the opportunity to do so, I find myself holding each minute carefully.

I awoke this morning with the to-do list for today/this week/this month pressing down upon me. It's still dark outside, though the sky isn't as dark as it was 10 minutes ago. If I could just set aside sleep for a month or so, perhaps I could get a better handle on all that I am behind on. I find that when the cabinet breaks, the stairs crack, the weather stripping comes loose, the fence post breaks, the roof leaks and the disposal gets jammed with another Lego, I feel the burden of those relatively small things as far heavier than it should be. I have many miles to go before I sleep - the sleep I wish I could avoid. Life, at a full gallop, is too fleeting; so, I have no choice but to let the beautiful minutes pass, but I will not let them fade. 

The Battle

 There is a thick fog hovering just above the snow dusted mountains outside my window, obscuring the pointed tip of Fremont Peak. There is a pink hue inside my tiny house that is a reflection from the mountains illuminated by the bright sunrise. It's a surreal earthly experience. 

This past week, I fell into a gopher hole and twisted my foot rather remarkably. I have historically strong ankles, so the pain was an unexpected surprise. It turned almost instantly black and blue from the heel to my toes. I was still able to walk on it with good hiking boots, amazingly, and now it's just a faded green color with the swelling almost completely dissipated. I'll need to be gentle with it for a few weeks, undoubtedly, which isn't my strong point, but alas. Declan was instantly inspired by the event with a plethora of puns. He told me I should perform a "Feetwood Mc" concert, "feeturing" myself and my own rendition of "Footloose". He said, "I'm sorry my puns are toe bad." "Maybe you need a leg up." He suggested I should probably go to "boot camp." I hope you can 'heel' quickly. "Shoe" probably want me to stop, right?  

The boys and I cleaned up the post-flooding rocks from our big field, finally. It has been a 2 year goal, but always something of a last priority. We made some gabions for our driveway entrance with the rocks we harvested and I finally created a new mailbox. Since 2022 our mailbox has been almost 14 inches too short due to the mud that was deposited across the land. As time progressively continued to dilapidated the old box, I was motivated to do something about it. Out new mailbox is reflective of the history of this place we call home. :-) 

November is not my favorite month - it means fall has exited and winter has the whole highway to itself. It's also the anniversary month of death for many who have gone before in our family, including my Daddy. It always amazes me how the world keeps spinning, stoplights work as usual, sunrise beckons in the morning even as a life comes to an end. We are expected to and must carry on, living our lives as the gifts they are. The pain and consequences of loss are strangely fresh no matter how much time attempts to fill the void. William H. Murie was a truly great man and I know there is significant importance in the remembrance.

November also marks the birth dates of some of the most influential people in my life so I am incredibly grateful for the month, too. It ushers in the holiday season and I LOVE watching the excitement that comes with that, especially in my boys. They are obsessively planning Christmas gifts to make for the people they love and I seriously doubt that the 6 week runway will be sufficient, but I am historically in awe of their efficiency, so.... 

So, on this brooding winter day, as the sun fights to be visible, it is hope and anticipation that tickle at the threads of my heart. The reality of long grief hovers, but the sun prevails. 

The Magical Creatures - Part I,

 I tease Declan about his magical horse, Murdock the Unicorn. He is one of the most delightful creatures on the planet and not a day goes by that I don't consider how rich we are for knowing him. He is capable, willing, talented and suspicious - if you're not his boy, then you are no doubt up to trouble. He loves his boy and will do literally anything for him. 

Paisley wants to blend in. She's content to stay underneath the piano, content to participate in the chaos of our life as a passive observer. Yet, she's the first to sneak into the truck if she gets wind that an adventure may be afoot. She hunkers onto the floorboard knowing that none of us will notice her until it's too late to do anything about it. We've even caught her hiding underneath backpacks in the backseat. And she adores Declan. She got a terrible infection in one of her eyes about 2 months ago, and he faithfully treated her multiple times each day. That process seemed to cement their bond. If he walks into a room, she jumps into his lap to snuggle and lick his hands. She'll wait quietly by the front doorstep when we come home, but as soon as he gets out of the truck she bounds over to him enthusiastically. Melts my heart! 

My very very dog... she's very everything. She has my whole heart. Her paws are too big and her heart is even bigger. If I dare to leave her behind (EVER!) she stands at the gate and scolds me with vehemence. I tell her, "Watch your language young lady!" On our hikes she always stays the closest and when I stop to sit underneath my tree, it's always her that is leaning against my leg, as close as humanly possible. If the people in this world loved like her, the world would be a revolving bubble of delight and good feelings. She absolutely LOSES HER MIND when her favorite people come to the door (Allie and Dad... you know who you are) and her enthusiasm is only reined in (slightly) as the novelty of their arrival eases during the duration of their stay. However, if they walk back out the door and return 5 minutes later, the original excitement resumes.