To Denver and Back.... and bargains to be found

I live 369 miles  or 6 hours from my sister. At least that's what Google tells me.
The trip is a bit boring. SO... I find new routes mostly involving western Nebraska.  So not exactly the most scenic and I haven't made it in less than ten.  I do wander... and the shopping distracts me.

I'm realizing that I get this goofy pleasure in finding bargains. I always say I don't shop- what I don't do is window shop or mall cruise or actually buy much at retail. Except Ikea.  And along the back roads and small towns between my house in Hill City and Janet's house in Parker, there are bargains to discover.  I think I may need to start a new side blog or link - Great Thrift Stores of the World.  Hey, think big.

My bargains include wool blankets and down comforters for each of my guest beds. I've found great original art, pillows and decor items.  But right now I'm in the market for winter clothes- in the past winter has been pretty short and not too cold. Now I'm realizing this is true winter country and I need winter stuff- and well, this is the place to find it!

In Sterling, Colorado there is a great Goodwill and on this trip I found my final down comforter for ten bucks.  I wanted silk long underwear ( really, really warm but lightweight for skiing) and my route went  south to Sidney, Nebraska- corporate home of Cabela's- Land of all things for Hunting, Camping, Being Outdoors in Cold Weather.  Don't ask but I kinda got lost in a town of 6,000 and couldn't find the biggest, possibly only industry in town.  BUT, I found the Salvation Army- a.k.a. Jackpot.  Three longjohns and two long sleeve tops- all silk, all Cabela's, all four dollars each.  Retail? $49.99 for the bottoms, $41.99 for the tops. Each. Whoopee!

And the fun was just starting. Oooo- winter coats. Need that. And a Columbia down vest for five dollar. I know they're about ninety-five dollars retail. Nice.  And that's a great looking white coat with a hood. I guess seven isn't too much.  All I need now is a pair of boots.

Off to Cabela's- why, I don't know and I never made it. But look down that street- Play it Again, Sam Thrift Store.  This is a work program for the developmentally disadvantaged and they were so sweet to ask me what I want. "Can I take those to the register?"  Sure, but what I really need is some prices.  And there in the corner-  cute white winter boots. And they match to the "new" coat.  Total price? - "I put your things in a bag for you. The boots are fifty cents and the bag is a dollar."  I did give a generous donation.  Or I thought it was generous until I got to Janet's.

"You got Sorel boots for fifty cents! Those things cost about a hundred bucks."

Women's Arctic Parka

 And here's the cute coat. "Is that real fur around the hood? You got a Woolrich winter coat for seven dollars? Good grief, girl."  Turns out the coat retails for $345.00. Nice.



Happy Shopping!  And look for the bargains in unexpected places.

Umbrella of Grace

I just missed my flight to San Antonio.   I was fussing at myself, of course. “Idiot”, etc.  I was on time, I just misread the flight info and waited for 45 minutes at the FRONTIER terminal rather than the SOUTHWEST terminal.

As I rushed through the airport to Concourse C, I pulled up Southwest on my smart phone; “Smart phone, dumb woman”.  Nope- missed the 10:05 AND the 10:55.  Earliest flight at 2:10.  “Go to the gate at 12:15 and request a seat. I’ll put you in the system (in some special way I still don’t understand but I’ll trust  you) and you’ll be close to the top of standby.”

Ok- 12:00 I found the gate and she said, “Let me just give you a boarding pass.” Thank you.  Maybe this isn’t a disaster.

But… my shuttle from the San Antonio Airport to the retreat leaves at 3:00.  They won’t wait or they will and I’ll make them late.  They’ll be mad or at least irritated. Why wasn’t I more careful?  Details escape me.  Woe is me.

So I called with my sad story to the driver in Texas and she was so kind. She called me back and  “No problem. Marshal is picking up Luci Shaw at 5:00 and you can ride with them.  All is well.  See you at dinner.”

REALLY?  REALLY… I get to spend two hours with the retreat speaker?  Even if she’s exhausted and needs to sleep I wanted to at least introduce myself.  I’ve been enjoying her work so much this last week.  AND…. Her story is my story.   Godly Christian husband of 32 years.  Didn’t smoke and died of lung cancer.  She was left with multiple young adult children.  And she published her journals.

What are the chances of the two of us being at a retreat?– I didn’t know her story when God tugged my heart back to Laity Lodge and this particular retreat.  What are the chances of my missing my flight?- even if I beat myself up about it, it rarely happens.  And what are the chances of my flight coming in at the same time as a woman I wanted to spend time with?

God doesn’t deal with chances.  He’s all about redeeming our mistakes. Blessing us in spite of ourselves.  Giving us the kiss of “Relax and let Me work it out.”  I’m not sure of the theology of all this- does God orchestrate all our moves to accomplish His will?  Does He know what we’re going to do and smirks as we hustle and bustle, as we try to scramble to FIX our mistakes?  While all along He intends to maneuver us into His PERFECT will?  As opposed to His permissive will- a whole concept and theology I never quite understood.

All I know is this – His heart toward me is Good.  I no longer care how He does it. I just know that He loves me and somehow it works out.  And each time I call myself an idiot for a few seconds less.  I catch my breath a few moments earlier.  I talk to myself in a kinder voice and remind myself of the goodness of God - last time, this time, next time.  He loves me- even if details aren’t my strength.  And the nice people I was talking felt empathy, not contempt, as I rushed off to the correct terminal.

My kind, kind sister texted me- “ This is why people want to walk under your umbrella with you ‘cause you’re not holding it so there’s room for others.  And it provides exactly what you need.”

Years ago, when my lead foot was even heavier than now, I was rushing to a doctor’s appointment.  Even before children I couldn’t leave the house with margin to spare.  So hurrying ( see the lack of the word- speeding- which indicates  error or responsibility), I was hurrying to the doctor and I was in my little VW Rabbit behind a big truck full of metal junk.

AND THE VOICE OF THE LORD SPOKETH:  And my pea size brain distinctly heard, “The umbrella of My protection only goes the speed limit. “ Sheesh…. OK, fine, I’ll slow down.  I was a little sheepish.  Not really aware of how distinctly He spoke.

And as I slowed to the speed limit, the large truck sped ahead, and a BIG wheel  rim fell off the back and landed in the road - right in the spot my little car had just occupied .  As I watched it roll to the side of the road, I was so aware of the danger, the death I had just avoided.  For I was rushing to a prenatal appointment and who knows. 

Who ever knows?  I don’t care how it works.  The heart of my Father is for my good. And His glory.   Let’s hang out under His umbrella.

Flight is boarding. The adventure begins.

http://www.laitylodge.org/artist-retreat/

Festival of Books

I'm in historic Deadwood, SD.

My memories are of a run down town with OLD stuff in the display windows. One year after Christmas with Bill's family,  there was a sale- 50% off everything in the store...and  I wanted the German nativity piece in the window. "I don't think that's for sale. It's just been there forever." Well, yes, it was for sale and I got a good deal since no one could remember the price.  Later when we traveled to Germany, I found out I got a real bargain.

My kids have some memories of wandering the only main street of Deadwood and getting taffy. Or even better, watching the taffy machine in the window as it slowly wound and folded sticky strands of sugar and goo into smooth taffy.  The big treat was if a fly landed on the goo and was slowly folded into the taffy. Yum... watch AFTER you eat a piece.

Well, a few years ago CASINOS came to Deadwood. Now everything is flash and glitz.  The pressed tin ceilings, Corinthian columns and crystal chandeliers of the historic Franklin Hotel's foyer share the space with slot machines and neon "HOT Video Slots".  All the mom and pop stores that serviced the mountain mining towns of Lead and Deadwood are now large casinos complete with "All you can eat Buffet!" There is no end to the endless medicore food Americans can eat on vacation.  People come in buses, seniors mostly, on day trips.  I find it depressing.

So it's being redeemed today with the South Dakota Festival of Books.  Two weeks ago, the National Mall in Washington, DC was covered with the ubiquitious white tents that signal a festival there. Those huge tents held displays for libraries, new authors, established authors, Barnes and Nobel, Amazon and everything related to books.  BIG.

For the last nine years, the state of South Dakota has celebrated books and this  year it's only an hour from my new home. No big white tents but lots of authors. I'm about to go to a screening of a movie by a memoir writer who writes about her two years of travel.  Hey- I'm in the right place!

SO... off I go to rub elbows with people who love books.  Deatails to follow.

Blessings, Kathryn

Home on the Range

Home On The Range


Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day 


Yep- that's my fantasy!


Home, home on the range- well there is a some cool pasture land off my big porch...

Where the deer and the antelope play- I do have deer wandering through but I'd have to drive an hour to Wyoming to see antelope play.

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word- ah... reality hits.  If you leave a house in the Black Hills all September, you can return to Lord of the Flies. All those gross things trapped in my house by the terrific caulking job have hatched and died trying to escape.  My mother reminds me that last year they were shoveling them out with snow shovels... I'm merely filling vaccuum cleaner bags. Still.... this is gross.  ( You don't want a picture... trust me)

And the skies are not cloudy all day - YEAH! That's right.....except today. As I vaccuumed flies and contemplated why my clothes have multiplied like those flies.... it really is cloudy.  


So I guess there is no paradise this side of heaven.  My kids came for a week in August and we unpacked some boxes, moved some, ignored more.  I made piles in my house in the few days I had there after they left. But mostly I stayed in Rapid City and cared for my mother after her surgery. I flew back east and ran around like a crazy women- northern Virginia brings out the crazy in me.  I returned west and spent a few days vacationing with friends and family in Colorado.  Life is sweet.... 


Now I'm here- "home". In a small town where I know a handful of people- none of whom really know me. I have no internet cause I'm mooching off my brother and his is down.   I have a land line again but my answering  machine doesn't appear to be working.  My cell phone won't work at my house at all.  I'm in a Best Western coffee shop doing my internet stuff.  Life isn't exactly normal yet. 


So what is normal? Is normal having instant access to information or forcing myself to slow down and really read books instead of skim for highlights?  Is it being able to post a blog as soon as I write it or is it being patient with the process and writing anyway?  Is normal having the same people know you and put up with you anyway or is it being open to the new relationships God will bring?  And bringing your best to them. 


Could it be a season to discover who I am?  Who I want to be.  What I'm supposed to do next. More important, who I'm supposed to BE!  BEING not so much DOING. 

Lake Sheridan and my future kayak course

How often at night where the heavens are 
bright

Just a quiet spot

With the light of the glittering stars
Have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed
If their glory exceeds that of ours 

Then give me a land where the bright diamond sand
Flows leisurely down to the stream
Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along
Like a maid in a heavenly dream 

Oh I would not exchange my old home on the range
Where the deer and the antelop play
Where the seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day







I'm home. Not exactly a range and not a swan in sight. The skies are cloudy occasionally but the home He has given me. And I'll discover the rest. 

Light-hearted- blue roads and a red barn

My dream is to wander across the United States and the world on "blue roads".  That was the color of the back roads many years ago- somewhere the map makers decided to make the interstate blue and the back roads red.  So now, I guess my goal is to drive red roads. And, since no one bothered to paint the roads blue or red it's up to the intrepid traveler to find those back roads.

In my case, that's not a problem.


My second dream is to actually leave at the crack of dawn like I say I will. Some days it's a better choice to linger over a cup of coffee with a dear friend.


So the day I left Virginia, it was later than expected and I should have taken the right and gone to the closest, biggest access to the closest and biggest interstate.  I turned left.  I wandered through the lush hills near the amazingly quaint town of Clifton.  I have taken for granted the small white houses that make up this town with it's now quiet railroad station.  The stone Presbyterian church stands guard under trees that  have seen wars and weddings possibly since the Civil War.  Or War of States Rights, as I have learned as a transplanted Yankee.

http://www.virginiawind.com/virginia_travel/clifton.asp

Then of course, I "found" myself close to Trader Joes, my favorite store in the world.  Or at least my favorite grocery store in Virginia. Yes, it's better than Wegmans. It's small and few choices, just lots of stuff I want.  So I picked up our favorite cereals, some ingredients for meals we love and their infamous cheap wine.
























So finally on to the interstate... I lasted 60  miles.  State highway 522 is a great shortcut. I know the road. It's the hypotenuse of the triangle so it must be shorter that the other two legs of interstate roads.  I know I have to backtrack a bit but I'll remember. What can go wrong?

Talking on the phone when driving can be distracting.

But, no problem.  I know the road I'm on is parallel to the one I want .  I'll just punch in my trusty GPS and it will lead me right.  I've written before about  my demon possessed GPS.
 I do believe the wicked thing has been taken over by the  Angel of "you asked for back roads".

A map is worth a thousand words.

Yes, it was a bit convoluted. But Gold Hill Road  was worth it. ( Green E on the map. Next task, figure out how to make decent maps!)


But look.... open roads, big sky, and ..... a great barn coming up!

Yes- a RED barn.  Love barns

Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road. Walt Whitman- Song of the Open Road

Back to the highway....  afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road.

Walking a labryinth

Soon before I left Manassas, I went to the Linton Hall Benedictine Monastery and walked the labyrinth. This arial view shows just a corner of one of the amazing silos standing vigil.  They took two ordinary grain silos and transformed them into quiet prayer and meditation "rooms". Complete with stained glass and a sky open to God above. This farmer's daughter is grateful for a reminder of her childhood and a reminder of the amazing creativity of God's people.

So what's a Pentecostal Protestant doing wandering a labyrinth in a Catholic monastery?  She's slowing  walking, with a heart that needed to be quieted. She's walking in gratitude to the Body of Christ that values beauty and contemplation.  She's doing it 'cause it's open to the public and no one cares if I'm Catholic, Protestant or heathen.              Come and walk.

"It is not talking but walking that will bring us to heaven."
-  Matthew Henry

I'm mindful of a deep need to slow down, connect my head, my heart and my spirit, to participate in all that God has for me.  I need peace for this rocky part of my journey.

So I walked.  I arrived on a day when a handful of women were tending the beautiful gardens around the labyrinth and silos.  As I walked, their voices grew to murmers in respect of my walk.  I know they must accomodate people all the time but it gave me a sense of being in my own space but within the larger space of their garden, within community.  We do essentially walk alone- we are in our own relationship with Jesus, we are separate from what is outside us.  But at the same time, we are always in community - for the hour that I walked, I was part of their community. A portion of the larger Body.

All alone, all connected. Part of the mystery.

As you walk a Chartres labyrinth- modeled after the floor in the cathedral at Chartres, France- you walk stone pavers that form the interconnecting serpentine pathway. You begin and following the stones, winding through the pattern, at one point certain the next series of turns will surely bring you to the center.  Suddenly you find you are not in the center at all but instead you have followed the path to the opposite site.  Left brain, right brain - appearing divided but connected by the path. You haven't arrived yet. You have the whole other side to calm your self and walk, thinking, praying, wondering.

"This is taking a long time. How can these be connected? Oh, I see where it goes. Someone was very clever.  Someone should also pull these weeds. Is it spiritual to stop and pull weeds out of the cracks?  What would happen if I just stepped over the line- I could cut off a bunch of walking? I think I got lost- can you get lost on a flat surface? Why can't I focus? God, are you here?"

But as I slowly continued, one foot behind the other, staying on the path, ignoring the weeds, welcoming the breeze- my heart calmed. My thoughts collected.  In this journey of life, there are often moments when I cannot see a connection between my current path and my desired end.  I am hindered by distractions- weeds in my path.  I am tempted to take short cuts.  I wonder if I've lost my way.  I cry out, "God, are you here?"

                And in life and in the labyrinth, He answers, "Peace. Be still and know I am God".

 Suddenly, I have arrived in the center. I have stayed the course, I have walked all the paths and made the right turns.  Really you can't lose your way in a labyrinth unless you walk blindfolded or and refuse to look at the path in front of you.  And I believe you cannot lose your way in life- unless you blindfold yourself and refuse look at the path before you.  I believe that God has a good path for each of His children and no two paths look alike.

Sometimes it feels like we  must have lost the way. Sometimes it feels like there is no rhyme or reason. And sometimes there is a glimpse of of clarity as the pieces line up for a moment. Or you feel like you can reach out the touch your goal but the path then takes you a long way away, away to a new place. Trust Him for the journey. Then there are times when a shortcut tempts us, who would know? ...
Stay the course.  One step, one day at a time.

It would be all so simple if there was a labyrinth or a personal yellow brick road in front of me at all times. How often have I said, "I'd do His will if I knew what it was." Well, I do know.






In Luke's Gospel, Zechariah dedicated his son, John, with these words, "....the tender mercy of our God,

by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness

       and in the shadow of death,

                                                 to guide our feet into the path of peace.”

 He desires me to be faithful. Not demanding a road map. Satisfied with His presence. 

Peace. 

"Be Still and Know I am God."

Once, as I prayed for direction with a friend, she had a picture for me.  In her picture, I was moving from foot to foot, impatiently waiting. A path was before me but it  was quickly obscured by weeds, broken down and then gone altogether. Then she saw a man kneeling in front of me, carefully laying the next section of the path. A smooth path, a level path, a clear path. 


Life isn't a static labyrinth that we can all carefully march with the same turns for each of us. Our shared goal as His followers is to bring glory to Him.  We can learn much from sharing in a pattern laid by others for parts of our experience.  But when it comes to our lives, our walk, we have the Master mason who only lays out one section at a time.  As I chose to stay close to Him and trust Him for the next piece, the next season, I know Peace and I am still. 


I stood for a moment in the center of the labyrinth, my heart quiet. Then I retraced my steps. This time with a renewed understanding that the path was trustworthy, the way was smooth. I could leave with peace. Peace to share. 

Mexican train and life

I'm back form almost a week at the beach.  Beach people do what real people do on vacation- they eat, they sleep, they play games.  At the beach, many games and some meals involve sand and salty water. Actually, many beach people also have sand for their sleep- you see groups and singles of beach people sleeping under piers and special beach umbrellas. The rest of us bring the sand home to add to our sheets. The inexperienced beach people are the red ones sleeping in the noon sun.  

 I am the one hiding under the pier. The sun is not my friend.

But when the sun goes down, the kids are tucked in, the table cleared and the glasses refilled, the real games begin. And we played Mexican Train.... turns out beach people play it just like Mountain People.  You pick twelve random domino tiles and build "trains" or strings of dominos based on whatever domino is the "engine" for that round. You start with 12s and go down to 1s- although even beach or  mountain people rarely finish an entire set of twelve.  That's a lot of dominos to mess with. Refill the glasses.


I figured out how to import an image from the internet! Yippeee...



So... the game goes on. And on. Depends on if you're winning or not. And sometimes it feels like you are clearly winning until one stupid hand and you are dumped off the winner podium and that sneaky player who has been quietly sitting there has won. Drat.

So what is the point?  Let me examine some of the facets of the game of Mexican Train and the game of Life.  

You may think you are choosing but really even your choice is random. You don't know what the tiles will be- will you be able to cleverly line up all your dominos? Will they be a mess of random tiles? Will you be able to just quietly mind your own business and play out your little hand in peace and quiet?

 Just what we think we choose our pieces to play life. We choose a good spouse and he or she turns out to be a flawed human.  Who expected that!          You adjust and line up your life pieces- kids, a minivan or never a minivan, a...... fill in the blank- it's still about control.  You will buy a house or never get trapped in that rip off.  You plan to work as a ....  until you retire.      Or retire and live at the beach, in the mountains, on a golf course or even on the mission field.  You have your train all lined up.  


Mexican Train has some sneaky ways to mix the game up. There are double domino tiles- two twelves, two elevens, tens, etc. So if you have a double and you play it on your train or WORSE, someone has to play it on their train  AND cannot immediately add to it, you are involved!  The game stops while everyone either messses up their trains to pull out a tile to put on the "open" train, gleefully uses a random tile they didn't want in their hand anyway or horrors, draws more dominos. Those new tiles may or may not fit into the clever train you have planned.

You see the life application.  There you are just going along "playing life" quietly. Planning your train. Lining up life. And someone else's train intrudes.  There are no end to the interruptions- in fact, if you haven't had your life interrupted you probably aren't fully living and certainly not in community. And you must not have children.  They are the ultimate interruptions.  So are broken down cars, ear infections, business trips, broken air conditioners,  cancer.  Life is suddenly put on hold while everyone has to respond.

And it's all about the response. In a lively game of Mexican Train, the chatter is as much fun as the game. And in life, when your carefully constructed plans and ideas of how life works are interrupted, challenged by a new arangement, it's all about your response.  When the choices you made suddenly seem to not fit together and you can't even see a train, a logical pattern. A reason.   When it's all about the interruptions and less about your control, that's when Life begins.

This week has been a test of my character, of how I respond when I am not in control. I've had to stop other people and ask for help. I've had to wait for others to respond to my inquires. I've had to attempt to make decisions without all the information I need. I've been tempted to stand up and dump the table, yell and stamp my feet.

"It isn't fair. I'm playing the game right. I had my train lined up. I don't want to mess it up with having to interact with you. Go away and let me finish my ... MY. Me, mine."

Life isn't Mexican Train. It's a silly example. But it's a reminder that life, like a game, has pieces that I cannot control, has a pace that I cannot always set. It has other players that I have chosen to be with and sometimes their train needs a response.  Playing games is all about being a good sport- not kicking over the board when you lose, speaking with our kind voices, treating others like you want to be treated, not cheating when you might have a chance.

Sounds like good response to life. 

http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee179/holazola/MexicanTrain.jpg