Warning: This is a sappy, sentimental post. It is also a bit long:)
So either bear with me, or click on by:)
"The truth is...
we are not that important,
unless we are important
to each other."
Jed Henrie
~
~spring break 2010~
Remembering my Roots
This is the place that holds my heart.
It's old. It's very old.
The wood is weathered and washed
with years of rain, snow
and hot summer days.
Many summer days,
floating down the river
that runs as deep
as the emotions it stirs inside of me.
Growing up, I used to let people assume
that it was a modern day dude ranch,
just like in the movies.
It's a dude ranch alright,
with
Cows and horses
and cowboys as dusty
as the land they plow.
But their is nothing modern about it.
I am finding that the truth is much more
interesting than fabrication.
Because what this place lacks in
bells and whistles and shiny things,
is the reminder of everything
beautiful, sustaining, and
Real.
I am growing tired of the sparkly jeans,
bangles and tinkling jewels that seem
to suffocate the heart and soul
of my generation.
(I suppose every generation had their tinkling adornaments)
More than ever, I am searching for what
will truly sustain me and keep me
Authentic.
That which once dazzled me
is now frazzeling me.
(is that a word?)
Because that is what I feel sometimes.
Give me something real,
and I will give you my heart.
Give me your love, your sincerity,
your truth,
and maybe...just maybe... we will find out
what Joy really is.
I don't have the energy for anything
else anymore.
I want to wrap myself in the beauty,
the smiles, and the tender mercies,
that those I surround myself with,
give to me each moment.
I want to be there for every
tear that falls,
every day break, and every dark night.
I want to hear the laughter
that makes my belly dance,
and the songs that make the dark nights
worth it.
(This is Henry's drum set.)
If their is anything I teach him in this life
I hope I teach him where he comes from,
the blood that runs through his veins,
and the duty he has to generations past
and generations ahead.
This is my family tree.
It hangs on the dusty bedroom wall
with pride.
(Humble pride)
This is the crazy colauge of pictures
past and present.
We spent Easter weekend at the ranch.
It was...oh so very cold,
but quite and still.
It was filled with candy, conference and home cooking.
(I love to cook at the ranch, because calories don't count there:)
I love to walk around in my old gray sweater
and funny warped slippers.
Dad taught my kids how to carve in the
firewood.
This is his latest carving.
~Nothing without work~
This is the man, who went to war
and saved every penny, so that he
could come home and buy the ranch
from my great grandmother...
who was running it alone.
He understood the principle of
"Nothing without work"
I will never forget riding on
the back of grandpa's horse.
His spearamint gum and coffee nibs
used to jingle in his front pocket
like coins.
They filled the air with his scent.
I loved the way he smelled
He always wore this robin egg blue
shirt and his Stetson hat.
I remember one day...
I had my arms wrapped
around his barrell chest, and
held on tightly with each
bump and jerk of the horse
as it galloped
along the green pastures
that fed the cows
and the horses that
chased the cows.
He brought the horse to a hault,
and quietly pointed out
the indian paint brush
that dangled along the banks of the river.
He gave me a stick of chewing gum,
and then we watched the sun go down,
on the land that holds my heart.
~I love you grandpa~
