Finally...

I traveled back to the mid-west this weekend. For a wedding, a very precious, lovely wedding. And Doug asked me to write about it… now he’s been asking me to write for some time now, and I haven’t written in a long time. So now is as good as ever, to get my fingertips back in shape, to start typing, to start dreaming, to begin once again pouring my heart out into words.

Arriving on a late Thursday night, in the dark, in the humidity, I arrived in Springfield Missouri. With Lacey to fetch me from the airport we drove back to a home of mine, Carthage, Missouri.

I say a home of mine, because it isn’t my 2^nd home, nor original home; although Nebraska will always be my place of birth I have a lot of “homes” now tied for the running of first place. And honestly I don’t believe a first place will ever appear.

Nebraska, South Africa, Joplin, Flagstaff – they have all taken a piece of my heart, they have all stamped my soul with the memories I created there and the relationships I built. So let me elaborate for you, let me explain to you the stamping Missouri did on me.

Missouri became my home in a lot of ways, through Joplin, through Ozark Christian College, through friendships and schools and churches and jobs. But the cowboys from Carthage definitely branded me in their own unique way.

We sat Friday night; all together after the rehearsal and dinner, with our tummies full we sat near to one another. With the open country sky above us, the stars and the galaxy looking like a perfect covering sheet over our heads, it was dark for miles – except for the twinkling lights that hung around the wooden dance floor. The boys in their cowboy hats and the girls in their dresses we had all come together to celebrate a union through marriage.

I sat there, gazing at the stars above, feeling loved and warm despite the rare chilly August breeze. I was in a nostalgic haze the entire weekend. Remembering what it was like growing up in the middle of Nebraska, remembering all of the rodeos we traveled too, I remembered the early mornings of black coffee by the potbelly stove. It wrapped my heart like a Pendleton blanket and it warmed my soul like hot cider; I felt like this is home, this is where my feet touch the soil and my heart sings harmoniously.

I remembered all the wisdom that was poured into me in the Aldridge living room, when Georgia would love on me and wipe my tears, when Doug would challenge me and when Jack and Dougie would wrestle and cuddle with me. I recall the woman I became in that Missourian rodeo abode, the way I learned what lifestyle I longed for and what responsibility means. The way I learned a new form of family, the way I learned I a different way to be me.

I’m not saying I learned how to get a belt buckle, or how to rope the fast-lane; I learned from cowboys a code of honor, an intense work ethic, compassion and respect. I learned a cowboy doesn’t make apologies and is always prepared. I was taught (by my Nebraskan parents as well as my Missouri kin) to be humble, to have quiet strength and to possess courage. 

I fled that rodeo scene years ago, to venture off to South African seas and then ran straight to the desert mountains of Arizona. Changing scenery, changing environments  - quickly meandering through cowboys, city slickers, surfers, hikers and hippies; the vastness of my “home” these past few years has constantly changed dramatically. My pillow has changed too many times to count, my zip code too many times for the post to keep up.

But here I sit, after a visit to a home. Knowing full well this August day that Arizona is where I am meant to be, to learn a little more, to develop a little more. But the wisdom I learned from the cowboy circuit branded deep into my heart, deep enough to change me, deep enough to help form who I am today.

Maybe I’ll end up there again, maybe I’ll find the rodeo circuit through marriage, maybe I’ll find my own 10acres down in Australia where I’ll work the land and livestock, like those mid-west boys. Who knows where this trail will lead, but I do know; I’m walking this trail with chaps and spurs in tune.