Thursday, September 3, 2015


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.
I sat for a long time in a favorite spot, 
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.

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