April 23, 2017
Spring is my favorite time of year, especially this year. I had a tough winter. Everything in my life halted. Actually, my life came to a screeching halt. But, by the time I pulled myself back upright spring arrived. A time of beauty that lifted my spirits. A time of freshness that pulled me out of darkness. A time of new beginnings that once again opened my eyes to new opportunities.
So, I blew the dust off my computer, cleared the cobwebs from my head (or most of them), wiped the tears from my eyes (or most of them), and put my fingers back on the keyboard. There is, however, an old saying that says, ‘if you don’t use it, you lose it.’ I’m finding this to be true. My words are stuck. The stream is clogged with old enemies. Self-doubt. Fear. Frustration. Large boulders block my progress. ‘I can’t do this.’ I don’t know where I’m going.’ ‘I can’t think.’
I want to hear the beauty of my words rippling over my enemies making them smooth pebbles and sliding like silk ribbons of water around the boulders that threaten to block the song my words sing to me.
Then spring’s beauty settled over me like a warm blanket. A road I travel often greeted me with beauty and freshness as I went about my business. My heart whispered a little tune and smiled again.
I looked for things to reset my filters. To provide me the mindset I needed in order settle back in the time and place where Will and Buck live. I realized how much I had missed them. I had shut the door to their space.
So, I looked out the back door and there was the key. My space! And Will’s and Buck’s space, patiently waiting for me.
The elements I needed were all around me. All I had to do was look. The elements of Will’s and Buck’s lives are everywhere, even today, long after their time has past. The soft lowing of a momma cow for her calf, the little fellow’s tail swishing like a flag as he downs his supper, the curious bunch of heifers that come to the fence to see what I’m doing as I hang clothes on the line, a neighbor’s herd of Longhorns grazing among the wildflowers, all these things speak to me of a long ago time when boys like Will and Two Feathers lived on this land.
Now, it is up to me to listen for their words, to listen for the song they sing to me. I hope I’m worthy.