On the Move

Even as I write, 

the oldest boy is headed West.

His belongings culled from a packed 5,000 sq ft loft

to a packed small truck;

reduced down to the basics;

ready for a new chapter in CA.

His younger brother

decided to change residences as well.

Same town, different location;

different level of responsibility.

He and his wife are homeowners!

 and over the moon excited!

Man cave, anyone?

All this coming and going

is exhausting to behold.

Me?

 - still here -

focusing on taking it all in;

sharing the joy, fear and excitement

and enjoying the small miracles

every day.

Just asking

He's slimy - 

even without the bozo hair! 

When will this freak show of 'all things Trump'

lose its appeal with the media?

When will they stop shoving him 

down our throats?

(Which may be the wrong expression 

since it conjures images I do NOT want to have -

but you get the gist.)

And it was ...

even if there was family to help

 roses to make me feel better

and knowing how excited he is 

for all the new adventures to come.

"If there ever is tomorrow when we're not together

 there is something you must always remember. 

You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. 

But the most important thing is, 

even if we're apart... 

I'll always be with you.” 

A.A. Milne

I love you, Mike.

Vaya con Dios,

 Mom

Tomas

It would seem as though the significance of the day had been forgotten.

After all, it came and went

with nary a reminder, post or mention on social media 

which as you know, for some folks,

means it didn’t happen.

It DID though;

28 years ago,

which in the grand scheme of the cosmos

is but the blink of an eye.

I remembered;

I cried about it across South Dakota and Iowa.

Your death continues to impact 

those who were left behind.

Leaving us incrementally didn’t help.

You mattered.

You are missed.

You are remembered.

You were, and are, loved.

December 24, 1947 - August 30, 1987

Insight

For as much as I enjoy attending the Rosebud Fair, 

it’s really the vast stillness and peace of the plains 

that I love about my time in South Dakota.

It reminds me of peering 

across seemingly endless expanses of sea 

toward the horizon, 

without any man-made structures 

competing with the natural beauty 

and majesty that’s on display.

It reduces me to size; 

reminding me of my importance, 

or lack thereof, 

in the grand scheme of things.

It’s humbling – 

and most of us can stand being taken down a peg

or two – 

or ten.

Recently,

I sat for a long time in a favorite spot, 

listening, 

wondering; 

and, as always ,

rolling around inside me

like a marble in an empty tin can,

is the question of whether I’m called 

to live on the reservation, 

among these people, 

for an undefined time, 

for reasons as yet unknown.

At one point, 

I could almost hear God laughing – 

or maybe it was bird chatter – 

which may actually be the same thing. 

“How many different ways can you dance around the “No”?

I was immediately flooded with a sense of relief.

I usually hate ‘No”; 

I’m oppositional enough to take it as a personal challenge.

But, more than ever before, 

this trip helped me understand 

that while I’m free to love this place, 

these people,

and, while I’ll continue to work on all the forms of ministry 

I’ve been part of on Rosebud,

this is NOT where I’m being called to live.

This time, 

more than ever before,

I'm okay with that.

Carnivale

I have a whole love/hate relationship to carnivals.

I love
hearing the excitement in peoples voices,

the shrieks,

the laughter;
I love

the games of chance 

(which you KNOW are rigged),

I love the overall ambiance.

Ok, I'll admit it;

I even love the food - 

even if I restrained myself
this time!

The smell alone was intoxicating - 

come on, what's not to like 

about sugar and grease!

I even love the barely contained disdain of those forced to ride the kiddie rides 

when they wanted the more exciting stuff!

(Is it me, or does this little one look like a Kardashian?)

My responses to the rides however

range from simply no

 no thanks,

 get serious

 no way

 not even

 and Hell No!

As much as I love speed,

I'll stick to one of these,

thank you very much.

 And it wasn't lost on me how naturally San Francisco 

seems to follow Kansas City!

It must be a genuine thing!

Come to think of it though,

my vertigo would be set off by even the simplest ride;

I'll just sit and watch.