Sally Gerard

Our first good snow finally arrived, and I welcomed it with glee! Some critters are not so happy about it, but that is only because they have already forgotten those hot sweltering days. Ugh.

It’s bright and glittery and magical. Birds are all puffed out against the cold. Rabbits are hopping around making trails everywhere. Our bulls were all dressed for Christmas. The world is just alive in ways that draw the eye.

I wonder why one rabbit path is so popular that it looks as if it is maintained by some rabbit road grater, and others are just some lone bunny off to seek their fortune or visit family somewhere down the road. The morning after a snow, the hidden world of critters is revealed in the trodden tracks that summer never tells.

There is just something magnificent about snow.

How do you know what the next step is in your life? Do you pray? Do you hear anything when you do? Do you hear from some other source? In nature?

I see the example of who I should or could be in the life of Jesus. I mean, I should help others. I should be kind. I should have compassion. I should call out wrong when I see it. I should walk in other’s shoes. I should not judge. I should be humble. I should pray. Above all, I should love and love and love.

But where is the still small voice to guide me?

Is it in the crunch of fall leaves under my feet? Is it in the gentle voice of a neighbor? Is it in the warm breath of my horse? Is it at the table shared with friends?

I believe God speaks to us. But somehow my Pandora is not picking up the right station.

Fall is the wind blowing through dry crackling leaves and the crunch of dry meadow grasses. It’s the cottontails tucking in under the porch and into the lilac bushes. Flocks of geese flying over, the sounds of their honking encouraging the leader. Dry corn shucks littering the dirt road and the browns and beiges of the pastures brightened by the blue skies.

The creak of the hay wagon under the weight of big round bales and the putter of the little Z as she gathers cattle to her call to feed. The easing of long days into gentle crisp sun rises and long dark nights filled with stars to rest down even the most difficult day.

My apple tree sings the songs of Christmas lights. Wait, I say. Not yet. Cattle are home and bulls banter with nothing better to do. Horses begin to put on their warm winter coats. And I consider the state of my Carhartt.

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Things I love:

Laffy Taffy, birds at my feeder, and pumpkin cookies. I love devotions in the early morning. Jobs finished and done well. Baby calves finding their legs for the first time. A horse’s warm breath on my neck on a cold morning. Students who submit work that surprises and delights me. Struggling students who reach out for help or respond when I reach out.

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I love possibility and joy. Dark chocolate with sea salt and caramel. Ice-cream and lots of it. Hot fudge and a spoon, maybe with some salted peanuts. Broccoli and fresh green beans. Spaghetti squash with meat and a little sauce and some homemade sourdough garlic toast.

I love smiles and laughter and cute babies, well, any babies. Kindness and generosity. A gentle spirit. Helping someone find their way. A friend who knows just what to say or how to listen. Fall and winter. And God who created and didn’t make any mistakes.

Brave: possessing or exhibiting courage or courageous endurance (dictionary.com)

What does it mean to be brave? How are you brave in your life? Where do you need to be or wish you were brave? Who is on your list of brave people?

Determined to find that brave or courage in my life, I’m reading a daily devotional with my best friend about being brave. For me, it’s places where I need to speak up. But even when I have, it is met with a wall. What exactly do brave people do when they hit those hard stops? I’m pretty sure they don’t just back down and shut up.

One of the bravest people in my life was my sister, Cathy. Unafraid to march into executive offices to demand patient rights, she fought for basic needs of her charges. I doubt there was very much grace in her words, but I also know that God patted her on the back for doing the work of love here on Earth.

Tell me your stories of bravery please. I want to hear them.

Speak the truth in grace.

Truth: “conformity with fact or reality; a verified or indisputable fact; the state or character of being true.” (Dictionary.com) Synonyms: authenticity, genuineness, integrity, candor, frankness, openness, fidelity, revelation. (Thesaurus.com)

Grace: “elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action; kindness, esteem.” (Dictionary.com) Synonyms: compassion, tenderness, forbearance, pardon. (Thesaurus.com)

When I consider the goal and the words, for me it means that I must speak to the character of truth (fact/reality) with elegance or with compassion and with pardon. I mean, this is not easy. I’m not one who likes conflict, in fact, I bury it until it comes bursting out of nowhere. I avoid it like mosquitos at dawn and dusk. But I also have it written on a card next to my computer because it is something I need to do.

I let truth pile up around me until the weight on my mind, soul, and body is too much to carry. And I tell myself, “Now, today. You need to say this.” And then I don’t. I pray a lot and I believe in prayer, but I also know that God expects me to do my part to answer those prayers. And I don’t know about you, but I talk to no one about these truths that, like Marley, manifest on me as heavy chains.

I look to the words on the stiff card. I tell myself: “Soon, you’ll speak the words soon.”

How do you know what you really value in life? Sure, we are taught values from those who raise us, but they aren’t always values we stick to. We observe things and say to ourselves, “I’d like to be like that.” But how much time do we spend really being ourselves and living our lives according to what we value.

We walk by someone in need and figure someone else will help them. We travel to see beautiful and amazing places and we’re inspired, but when we get home, we fall back into patterns we swore we were going to break. We are busy and we just don’t have time for a long conversation with that friend who showed up or called at the wrong time.

I can write a list of things I value in life, but am I living it? Far from it. I get an A for some, but so many more are waiting for me to pay attention.

I value early morning skies full of stars, but sometimes I have to drag myself out of bed. I value honesty and integrity, but surely that little white lie is okay. I value my friendships, but right now this is so much more important. I value prayer and I promise, God, I’ll get to it. I value words that build up, but lately the f-bomb is coming much too easily. What should I value? I know I should put love, grace, acceptance, encouragement, and relationship above all. I’m working on it.

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What makes humans decent and kind? Is it a big city vs. small town thing? Urban vs. rural? What makes us walk right past someone without even seeing them?

Sure, there are more people crammed together in urban areas, but there are also communities there and people in those communities who do see you, who will stop and help, who care beyond your, “I’m fine.”

Likewise, in rural areas, there is a strong rumor mill with plenty of judgement to go around. And if you don’t fit the mold or you maybe came from “somewhere else,” you may face that subtle “doesn’t belong” undercurrent.

In both places, you can find the most kind and decent folk. They will welcome you to sup with them, share all they have, and send you home with a little something for your next meal. They will look you in the eye and listen to what you have to say. They will see you for who you are and for who you can be. They will hear your goals and dreams and hold you accountable to them, but also encourage and help you along your path.

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They will pray for you by name and in earnest. They will shine the light when you are in those dark places. They will smile when they see you on the street or in the store or out walking a long dirt road to nowhere. Do you see them?

My students have been writing about friendship, and one very wise young woman wrote that we hate in others what we wish we were in ourselves. Maybe if we just take a step back, we can be those kind and decent folk to others who just need to know they are seen.

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Her phone had been ringing, cutting off the music she was blaring, but she’d hit ignore every time it started again. Kelly’s excuses could wait. It was fifty miles or so to the first decent size town. She made for the coffee shop. Sitting, sipping the non-fat sea salt caramel mocha, Mel pulled out her phone and texted her best friend.

“Hey, what’s up?”

In moments, Beth answered. “Not much. You?”

“Killing a mocha in Kern. Wishing I was at your place.”

“Hm, want me to check flights?”

“Not just yet. Why do I keep dealing with this?”

Beth had been the receiving end of the Kelly woes for as long as Mel had been with him. Mel knew she was serious about the flights, but more, she knew her friend would listen and try to be objective. She also knew that there was no one else she could talk to about this. Mel didn’t want anyone thinking bad about Kelly. Beth was safely several states away.

Dust Trail 15 August 2019

Dust Trail (Ct.) 26 August 2019

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Once she hit the black top, she’d slowed some and burned the edge off her fury. Mel wasn’t going to turn around this time. She’d done that too many times before. Just keep driving, that’s what she told herself. The tank was full, and she had a little cash, and thankfully, her credit card, checkbook, and license were still in the drink holder where she’d left them from the last trip to the grocery store.

What was it with her? She’d never been a glutton for punishment, but damn it if Kelly didn’t know how deal it out. Short-fused, he could never see that being pissed at someone or something else, shouldn’t be an excuse to rail at her. He’d be sorry. He always was. But it didn’t change anything. Mel didn’t want to think about it, but something had to give.

Part one is here: Dust Trail 15 August 2019