What I Mean...

My roots are buried here, on the land, in the elements, with the people and the animals. It’s an opportunity to learn the Father’s heart. Here’s what I’m talking about:

Instead of waking up to your room mate’s melodious alarm, you wake up in a New Mexico ranch house. You can see your breath even indoors, but at least there’s a hot plate of eggs, bacon, and red chile steaming on the table.

Usually, mornings find you briskly pounding the sidewalk up to Founders, with your laptop for company. This morning, you are bundled up and headed to the barn with an eager pack of Border Collies at your heels. Tiny ice crystals cling to the trees, the fence, the horses’ backs. The ground is frozen solid, and you are feeling frozen yourself.

Snow clouds refuse to let the sun shine, yet you are horseback anyway. That horse would rather not have to carry you today. Start out easy; maybe he won’t buck on account of the ice. It’s two miles to where the cattle are, he’ll be thawed out by then. He moves like a ball of rubber bands -- you aren’t sure if he is going to bounce or roll. The snow is coming down fast and heavy. Your job is to get the springers to the house before it gets too deep.

I often notice myself thinking I am the determining factor in my surroundings. I’m not. I may battle the snow drifts, or you may stay up all night writing papers, but we are not in charge. The more mornings I experience like the one above, the more I realize I’m dependent, too. Whether we wake up to 8:00 classes, or to hunting heifers in a snowstorm, we depend on the One who “owns the cattle on a thousand hills”. He provides for us all.