Listening – As Far As The Eye Can See

A Rich Weekend

It is 4:29am on Monday November 3^rd. I woke up from a dream about an hour ago that has not left its grip on me. It was not a bad dream just a dream that touched on a lot of pieces of my weekend. It left me thinking. I had such a meaningful weekend. I am here to attempt to capture what it was.

Last week at this time Russ was looking ahead to our big November 1^st cow chase and he was worrying that we were short handed. For a few reasons many of our regulars were unavailable and several could only say “maybe.” The herd being moved was a large one, two herds that had already come some distance this fall and had been hanging out together 18 miles from home. (For those who know our ranch lingo they are the PF herd and the Manor cows). Bringing this big herd a full days ride home is a big job and Russ could not leave our crew situation to chance so he did a bit of recruiting. That resulted in five guests arriving at our home on Friday evening. Every bedroom and our guest space that we call “Clare Hall” was occupied. Of these guests one had been many times, one was on her third visit, one was on her second and two had never been in our home before. Over time chaos of old has subsided a bit and our spaces feel better and its kind’ve an enjoyable thing to dust and straighten and put out clean sheets and towels and just enjoy my home for what it is. I had that pleasure on Friday and it was a bit new to me. Usually getting ready for guests is a race to the finish line and involves an attempt to keep the situation to as little embarrassment as possible.

As it turned out all our “maybes” ended up being able to come and several of our firm “no” friends became “yes” when rain late in the week meant they were not working. By the time all was said and done we were at a solid 22 people on the trail by Saturday morning.

Saturday morning brought a chilly but beautiful sunrise for Laurie.

I had two helpers lined up for my part of the work, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. It turned out that my morning helper got a little more than she asked for but handled it like a champ.

It was strange when my phone rang at 8:45 and it was Patrick, one of the cowboys on the trail. My heart was in my mouth as I answered and true to my worries his voice was shaky. Russ was ok but was doing all he could in the first moments of a crisis with Coffee dog, holding his hand like a cinch on Coffee’s upper leg to slow bleeding caused by a deep cut. I needed to come. I dropped everything, changed into work pants, a jacket that could easily be laundered, I grabbed my rag bin and hit the road. Russ used a scarf of Sharon’s to create a tourniquet, loaded Coffee in the truck, Sharon and Hannah left the crew and headed my way. Enroute to meet them my job was to find a vet. We are so incredibly lucky to live in an area with several vets. I can’t state enough how huge a reality this is. I was so incredibly thankful when I found that one was available. Sharon, Hannah and I met part way just as vet details were getting finalized. I told Dr. Sid I could be there in 20 minutes, thinking after that was not true, I had more than a 20 minute journey ahead of me. It turns out I made it in 18 and beat him there. I stayed with Coffee until her general anaesthetic took effect and then sat in the waiting room. A second vet had been brought in and I was not needed, I didn’t realize a second vet was near and had imagined myself helping with the procedure. I like to think that I can do what is needed when necessary but I was quite relieved to have time to sit, breathe and message. It turns out that the profuse bleeding was caused by a cut artery. Noone knows what happened to Coffee, the first sign of trouble was that she was chasing cows with blood spurting out of her leg. What makes the most sense to Russ is that she cut herself on an exposed culvert. Murtada the vet observed that Coffee is brave and Sharon later reflected, she is resilient, she needed everything she had in these moments. I would be lying if I said experiences like this don’t affect me. At face value its just darn hard, but its triggering, hurt people and animals are all too common an occurrence in my world and there is some interior management required. As I sat in the waiting room I challenged myself to be totally honest. What I was facing down in those moments is how incredibly vulnerable I/we were. Russell, Dr. Sid and Murtada saved Coffee’s life, they are all that stood between a level of emotional devastation that I do not want to think about and a day that could end up feeling almost normal. I named that to Dr. Sid as we were saying goodbye. I needed to. To meet someone in their utter vulnerability and give of yourself is very holy ground. I stood on that ground with profound gratefulness on Saturday morning.

Meanwhile back at the ranch…….Vicki was following recipes and making things happen. She made me laugh when she spoke of her texting with her husband to check in, confessing her lack of felt direction he advised, “stir the soup.” The crew was running a little bit early as it turned out so when Coffee and I returned to the ranch and I got her settled I had to switch gears, it was tough but with Vicki’s help we arrived at the lunch spot only 10 minutes late. This spot has a dugout and grass for the cows so it is a priority to meet there versus wherever the crew happens to be when lunch is finally ready. My time with Coffee meant I didn’t get fresh biscuits made to go with the soups we were offering, knowing this I stopped at the store and got Melita Bakery bread and it was just fine, some thought it homemade. Lesson learned!

Sharon and I look pretty fresh for the morning we put in.

On the trail…..A new and unexpected crew member. We got a new cow dog this year after losing Bingo and Knightwing in the spring and summer. We were not expecting to have Zip on the trail until next year but sensing her good instincts and ability to listen Russ tried her out on a shorter job earlier this week. She did wonderfully. I was so proud when I heard this I wanted to do a whole blog post just about her! A dog on the trail who is younger than most of the calves! (Zip was born May 14^th) Based on this success she was brought along on Saturday. In Coffee’s absence, and with Paisley on vet ordered retirement from chasing cows (Paisley belongs to our friend Jen), we only had Maddie and Zip on the trail. She was needed. While not perfect she did super well. She took some rest periods, but not in the truck with Sharon, she rode with Jen and with Becca in their saddles. I love thinking about the view she had, as opposed to her regular perspective where its a lot of angles of ankles.

After helping serve lunch Vicki joined the crew for the rest of the ride and shortly after I got home to the ranch my friend Erin arrived. She has helped me many times, her daughters love to chase cows, so she moved in very naturally, got dishes done, did prep work, made one of her signature casseroles and visited easily. She is fun. We had a supper ready when at 5:30 the crew was in, a little earlier than projected. These helpers who come alongside make me look good and allow me to experience the joy of hospitality when otherwise I would be swearing and sweating.

After a very long day on the trail people don’t linger long after dessert is served, two of our house guests headed home and our day ended with a cozy visit of five people with a shared footstool between us sipping on tea. At 8:33 one of the circle looked at their watch and said, “well I made it to 8:30, that was my goal, I’m going to bed!” The party broke up and we were all resting before long. Coffee slept between Russ and I, her long body and her cone making for a bit of a bed hog.

Sunday morning had us returning to the cozy circle with cups of coffee. The time in the circle included thoughtful questions asked of me. People don’t ask me about myself too much and I quite enjoyed the chance to ponder and speak. It was the weirdest experience though to be fighting waves of nausea arising from a stubborn headache and sitting there speaking deeply, wanting to carry on as if nothing was wrong. I had to give myself a talking to. As much as I was enjoying the attention and conversation I had to tell myself it was okay to state where I was at, so I did, and of course people were very understanding and enjoyed the chance to ponder that this might be “morning sickness.” That had my mind wandering! At that point we were six days into our empty nest and I was not appalled at the thought of a baby. I am not sure what that says. I am actually enjoying the quiet and order of the house a lot, with modern technology I still hear my kids’ voices and know some of their stories and while its different around here, I am doing okay, but I could handle the thought of a new baby (at least I thought I could, reality would be much much different if that were to come to pass.)

The good-byes with our guests included some feedback that really touched me. I feel like I am bragging to share it but it has such meaning for us. We were told, “this experience is so unique, there aren’t many things I’ve done that are so tiring to the body but refreshing to the soul, there are layers of rest and depth that I hit when I come here that is just…….…..” I won’t say much more about this but basically that reflects one of the primo life goals that Russ and I have. I have pondered it many times since I heard it. It was a big part of my weekend.

Not long after everyone was gone I headed out to meet with a nearby congregation wrestling with decisions about future plans. I was there as a rep from the region and my only job was to listen and support as necessary. It was such an honest meeting shaped by fragile hope, confessions of grief and deep care. I am certain that this meeting was the launchpad for the dream I had that woke me up.

Despite having several hours of discretionary time later in the day I did not put away all the clean dishes that Vicki had whipped into shape while Russ and I were making breakfast and they sit beside me even yet. This is the privilege of the stage of life I am currently in. I can do a little bit of “I don’t feel like it” time and it is not the end of the world. What I did feel like was a bit of creative work on a gift for our ranch crew, I am really happy about this.

My writing spot today, clean dishes on side.

Another special thing that happened this weekend is that at one point I had the chance to listen to someones pain, I felt very very calm within as a story was unfolding. I noticed this and have pondered since, “was I detached from the situation or actually becoming the person I want to be, able to exist in the midst of great pain and be fully present?” It felt more like the second than the first. To put this in broader context though, what I have noticed about myself is that I am absolutely terrible about being present to pain that I have no chance to impact, so I have just about stopped watching the news, it just distresses me. Perhaps finally I have come to really believe in the power of just being present to people, listening and creating space for them to be honest and I can actually hold pain when asked to.

The dream I mentioned earlier felt absolutely major when I woke up, now I am not so sure. The turning points of it seem to be two things. The first part was very specific, I was dropping off something at my friend Linda Powell’s house and decided that there was no time like the present to do some work for the church that would help us understand things better. So I knocked on the door of her neighbor (I have absolutely no idea who that is in real life) and was given the chance to introduce myself. The transitions that happened I am totally fuzzy about right now but the next point in the dream is that I was at her kitchen table. I was able to communicate that I came with no agenda except to listen. She was able to say “that’s good, cause I was kind’ve offended at the start of this.” I don’t remember any of the conversation that followed. I told her I had no agenda but I know I did. I am not sure how this was communicated in the dream but I know I knocked on the door because I am so curious about and want to respect and respond helpfully to what is really going on in people’s lives. In our churches we are reckoning with the fact that fewer people attend. People have a lot going on and are tired and torn and the world is changing and technology is multiplying peoples’ options and so on and so on. In the midst of that, what needs are left unmet? What do people need? I have always thought it isn’t right to say, “how can we get butts in these pews”, that sounds a lot like self preservation, and we can do better. In place of that I want to ponder “what does the church offer that people need?” So as I was waking from this dream I was actively processing that if I went out one evening a week and knocked on the doors of an entire block, in the course of a year I could cover seven communities. Clearly that is not accurate, but in a dream anything is possible. The feeling I had in this dream is that listening was going to be key to the strategy. I was perhaps naïve to think that trust could be built quickly and what people really need could be explored but I think not naïve to believe that it feels way different to be listened to rather than talked at and being listened to and taken seriously is a big part of what people need. We don’t do this perfectly in our United Churches but we really try to welcome people as they are and experience together the good news that God loves us, as we are, and is actively working with us for greater wholeness for ourselves and the world.

As I ponder all this the theme I see is holy ground. Maybe that is a piece of what we all need. Is it fair to say that many of us are hungry for holy ground, for ground where we can be fully ourselves, vulnerable, human, hoping, chilled and thrilled by our adventures, and there we find God waiting for us. In the terrifying space between life and death, and when skilled hands and kind eyes meet us where we need them, in the midst of caring conversation, in the saying out loud our fragile hopes, in the love poured into a warm bowl of stirred soup? I can’t speak for others but that is where I found holy ground this weekend and I am so thankful.

Thanks to Jen and Becca for most of the photos in this blog.

The Tenderlands: Podcast Pondering

October 10, 9pm: I continue to really struggle with whatever sickness I am dealing with. With that being the case I am not feeling like getting lots done is a reasonable expectation. I am just rather happy to make a little progress on what is in front of me. I found myself in quite an interesting space late this afternoon as I tuned into a new podcast and got washing dishes that had piled up over the days. The podcast was hosted by Kate Bowler, a pastor, cancer survivor and very thoughtful human being. She was interviewing N.T. Wright, a person of some fame in theological circles. As I worked away, there were some really nice realities going on. The house was really peaceful and the sun was coming in. The fall scenery outside my windows makes me feel good, because I really like fall. The fact that I have been sick for most of three days, laying low and feeling quite off led me to a tender spot within myself. The fact that I was making progress on a job that I often let get ahead of me, my kitchen, and supper was well underway, well that created a certain peace. Into this setting I heard Kate ask her guest a question. Was it the tone in her voice, the content of the question, the space I was in or a a bit of all three, I don’t know, but the question hit me to the core. I rewound the pod and listened to the question three times. She said to Mr. Wright, “What was your first clue that this was the kind of person you were going to end up being?” Even as I re-read that question now I am stunned by it. It must be the content of it, because I don’t have her tone in my ears right now. As I chopped salad ingredients and thought about this in my own life I realized there are really two questions in the one. 1. What kind of person have I ended up being? and 2. What was my first clue that I was heading this way? I have always been analytical, curious about myself and what makes the world go round, so her question really landed well with me. Perhaps it landed well because although I am now firmly in middle age I feel like my life continues to put things in front of me that test what kind of a person I am being. Am I a rancher? A minister? A writer? A singer? A counselor? Which part of this will grow and which part will shrink? What do I want? I think there is a thread that weaves through everything and that is maybe truly the answer to what kind of person I have ended up being. I don’t succeed at this consistently, and when I fail its pretty clear, but I do want to come to ranching, ministering, writing, singing and talking with people with the message, “I want to see you,” not in a nosy way, but I want to be a listener, I want to offer space for what you need to say, I want to embody the gifts that God gives me, hope, joy, peace and love. I mess up alot. But somewhere along the way this has become the goal for “the kind of person I have ended up being.”

What was the first clue that I was headed this way? Who knows right? What have I forgotten? (Lots and lots to be honest!) Perhaps the memories that really stick with us are very telling though. As I was chopping the broccoli I got thinking about my job back when I was 17, until I was 22. I was a nurses aide at The Saskatoon Convalescent Home. It was a super meaningful experience for me, it created the setting for the most embarassing moment of my life which is a fun story to share and it also tested me in ways that were really helpful. I think it also offered me my first clues, and one very specific one. I have a memory of a day when I found myself with a little extra time and I was checking in on my residents. I got to sit and talk with one. For some reason she started to talk about her life before old age. It had been hard. There had been abuse. She was working through something. I mostly listened. I was probably 19 at the time, but I remember walking out of that room, stunned that she had confided in me, and grasping that my future needed to include more of that. That might have been the first clue.

As I worked more with the salad and back to the dishpan I was dying to stop everything and write, but I had men coming in that would be hungry. I could not. The writing now has been a way of teasing out what got mixed up with the broccoli salad as I chopped away. I share it because I think the question that started it all, “What was your first clue that this was the kind of person you were going to end up being?” is such an invitational question. Do any of the readers want to have those same words in front of them for a bit? How would you answer that question?

I want to add that I notice that my answer to the question holds no reference to my primary roles in life as a wife and mother, the stuff that goes on in my own four walls. I seem to have interpreted Kate’s question as relating to life in the world, I am too tired to analyze why I went that direction with it. Doesn’t matter really anyways.

Wednesday, 7:30am: I am including this picture because it was a fun moment from the day. I had alot of socks to match up yesterday as Morg, Russ and I were all getting low and that was a priority for the laundry. Its a good quiet job and I find it very, very satisifying to make order out of chaos. Russ is very particular about his socks. He likes them to be colorful and lightweight so that his feet don’t get overheated. He gets attached to certain ones. He is also not pleased with my system of managing odd socks. So as our lunch hour wound down yesterday he wondered very seriously if I could get serious about the odd sock situation. (Your’e learning something about Russ here aren’t you?). I was up for the challenge. It was with some glee that I sent him a picture of the odd socks and the stats arising from the reunions that happened. But this picture was the most significant. A while ago I had tried to throw out these blue socks with red dots and trim when it was clear they were threadbare. Russ was appalled. They were special to him. In the last month they got separated from each other. Russ was sad about this. So when my odd sock efforts meant this reunion and return to Russell’s sock drawer, this picture was sent to Russ. It was greeted with celebration. When Russell came in the door for supper, Morg had arrived a bit earlier, and from the porch Russ called out, “Morgan, did you hear the greatest news of the day?” Morgan had not. I didn’t know what Russ was talking about. I said, “you mean that Shutterfly sent me an extra plate?” No, that wasn’t it. “Your mother got my favorite socks back together!”

There are three things that are holy about this post. First is the obvious. Holey socks. Next is Russell’s incredible quality of being the last guy to give up on anyone or anything. When he does give up you know something significant is broken. That reminds me of the Bible stories of the lost sheep, the Prodigal son and the widows coin. People and socks are not disposable in Russell’s world. This is holy. Last, its a holy journey to keep working at figuring out our calling. That maybe seems a minister-y way of saying that. Another way of wording it……it’s a holy journey to keep figuring out how we are especially equipped to live to make a difference to the world. In the midst of that, tracing the movements of the Spirit and the clues we are given, can be a source of awe. Awe often feels very holy.

So, if you like, here is Kate’s question one more time. “What was your first clue that this was the kind of person you were going to end up being?”

Happy Wednesday!

Vasectomies and Vaccines

A friend of mine is struggling to make a decision with a pretty time sensitive matter relating to health. This has got me thinking about a story of my own that has similarities. My story involves Russell, so before I got writing this, (I was away for a few days in June when I started this) I sent him a text asking his permission to share the story. He answered with these words “I think if more people shared their stories and wisdom the world would be a better place. The story kinda makes me look like a bad husband but it is the truth. It is what it is. I know I’m not perfect and I don’t think I really would want to come across to any one as perfect. The best I have ever done is just try hard every day. So Definitely yes.”

This is not a dramatic story really, its mostly about how seven words affected my life in a very tangible way. The events began when I was creeping towards 40 years of age and living in the midst of a situation that could be described as a difficult treadmill or a place of abundant blessing and both would be true. I had a 5 year old, a three year old and a baby. My days were filled with the fun and the fervor of preschool life and my husband was not available much. The ranch work was unrelenting (if you are a reader from the city you might not realize that what I mean is there is no such thing as a weekend or a 5 o’clock bell, you work while the sun shines and often longer.) Russ was not in the position to call the shots and shape things in a way that allowed more family time. I was at my load max regarding family life. Thats the difficult treadmill part. At the same time I was living my dream. This is what I doodled about on my notes in Miss Rodgers grade 10 social studies class. I wanted to be a Mom, as Miss Rodgers did her best to get me into world history I remember doodling my future kids’ names, one of them would be Anna I hoped. Gina is not far off as names go. Not only did I have my kids, I had healthy kids and we were able to make it work for me to be mostly home with them. Not only did I have my kids but we got pregnant very easily and with the exception of one miscarriage (a traumatizing one I will admit), carrying them was easy and birth was straightforward (as straightforward as XL babies can allow!) We were abundantly blessed. Herein lay the problem though, it was easy for us to do this, but I knew, deep in my soul, that I needed to be done. There is alot of I and my in that last sentence. The miracle of creating life is pretty intoxicating and it is hard to say, “thats enough”, I think I needed to be done but Russ was not sure. However he respected where I was at and so the conversation began about how to prevent anymore babies. I wanted a solution that left no room for wondering and worrying, giving up sex was not an option, talk of a vasectomy was next. This is the part that makes Russell look bad. In a nutshell, (no joke intended, really, I just wrote that and then realized it was quite descriptive…….) So, in a nutshell, Russ talked it over with several people and tried to convince himself that he could do this, and he couldn’t. He just couldn’t find his way clear to take the steps to make it happen. Was I frustrated by this? Yes, but it is what it is. I made an appointment to talk to my doctor. I was embarrassed to bring up our predicament, I knew it made Russ look bad and made me look like a woman not standing up for herself. However, I am an intensely practical person and so I was prepared to have the procedure to end my fertility. I am also a feminist, in a soft, kind’ve meek version of that word, but I am. It seemed to me that my giving in and subjecting my body to another thing, when it should have been the man’s turn, was something my feminist peers would tell me was unfortunate and that I had let myself down by not fighting harder. Here is where Dr. Naidu did me a great favor. I told her what was going on. She looked at me and she said this, “you have to take care of yourself.” Seven words. They were seven words that accomplished a total reframing of the predicament. The frame I had constructed around this problem was “if I am the one to give in and go for the surgery I lose.” Her seven words reframed it in my mind like this, “your job is to make a decision that takes care of your future, your needs, your dreams, you are the boss of you, do what you need.” My life experiences up til that point meant I had zero concerns about having procedures done. It was an extremely easy decision for me to make when framed in the way that Dr. Naidu constructed. I had the procedure, all went well for me and the next chapter of our life opened up. Russell did not take my flexibility lightly, he was appreciative and showed it.

I believe this was taken at my 40th birthday party, not too long after all the deliberating had taken place.

Do the words “you have to take care of yourself” touch your story today? My friend is working on the question, “should I get the Covid vaccine?” I sense there are many, many variables that are swirling around as that decision gets tossed back and forth. One thing is for certain, the decision to get vaccinated is not a private issue like Russ and I were going through. People out and about ask if you have had it and pass a certain amount of judgment based on the answer they want to hear. In addition there is a need to provide proof in order to get on planes and cruises and cross borders. The decision has very public implications. The forces that push one way or the other are varied, can be intense and could be quite personal. It strikes me that Dr. Naidu’s words to me need to be applied to this situation so that something very important can be honored. That very important thing is, the human person making this decision. Putting aside all the push and pull, all the argument and counter-argument, all the shoulds, coulds and maybes, what are the dreams and hopes of the person? I see this as having some real parallels to my story above. Russell should have stepped up and got it done. I had spent 32 months of my life hosting our children within my womb, couldn’t he have just done the right thing? In a perfect world, yes. And in a perfect world no one should have to get an injection that they do not fully understand or trust. No-one has to get that vaccination but in order to live life as much as normal for the next while, you must have it. As likely as an unwanted pregnancy for us was, without precautions, it is pretty clear that Covid can move in and wreak havoc on individuals and health care systems, we have to find the most effective way to preserve our communal hopes and dreams for the long haul. So thinking about my friend, what I want to say first of all is, “thank you for listening to my story” and I also want to say what Dr. Naidu said to me, “you have to take care of yourself.” Only you know the subtleties of all that stirs within, only you and your doctor know best what your health dictates. If you trust your doctor listen to him/her and to your hopes and dreams. Put aside what all the competing voices are saying and do what you need to do to take care of yourself.

To those readers who are fully convinced that I should be urging my friend, pushing for vaccination, I have to say that I really believe in the power of listening. I would rather listen to hear what is going back and forth for my friend than be pushy about my perspective and silence the voice that is honestly struggling already. The listening process is well suited to helping people discern what is right for them.

To those readers who hang firmly to the information they have that makes this vaccine a very poor choice, not in the service of hopes and dreams but other darker things altogether I can’t get on board with that. But I will listen. I see the way that case rates are falling and the overwhelming majority of physicians and scientists who endorse it and I sit with that. If you can’t I think thats okay. As long as enough of us can find our way clear to be vaccinated, and I think we are, we can keep those case numbers falling and find our normal.

A few more pictures to illumine the story that has been told…….