Monthly Archives: December 2015

My Cousin

I have always appreciated my dad being brave enough to immigrate to Canada. I’m sure I have had so many opportunities I would never have had if he had stayed in the old country. But. . . 

I have missed out on something special: my extended family there. I have always envied folks with big families: grandparents, brothers,  sisters,  aunts,  uncles, nieces, nephews, and cousins. 

Luckily some cousins came to visit us in Canada. But I wish I could have met everyone; I think I would understand myself better, seeing where I fit in and all. 

Of the few I’ve met I’ve always had a favorite. I talked to him on the phone today. It was like no time had passed and it’s been so many years. You know like those really special friendships you have that seem to transcend time and distance. 

Looks like things have fallen into place and I’m headed to Europe after all and he’s invited me to stay with him while I undergo the treatments I’m after. 

I’m scared (flying over a whole ocean) and thrilled at the same time (I’ll be there when the daffodils bloom in their spring) and more than a little worried about a barn cat (trying to become a city cat), an old cow dog (who has to walk on a leash in a park), and a soon to be lonesome cowboy. 

At the same time, I’m so thankful to my cousin.  




I need to remember this. 



Sarah was my Welsh grandmother’s name. I never knew her but I love her just the same. I knew my dad and to be the kind of man he was she must have been really something, a special kind of mother. 

Sarah is also our daughter’s name. 

My heart just fills up with joy when I try to talk about this child of ours. There just aren’t good enough words to describe her. Dimples is the only easy one. The rest have to do with goodness and kindness in heart so special that I can honestly say it’s been a priveldge and a blessing to be her mother. 

I look at her and think, God must love me. 


Old Dogs and Cowgirls

Saw this on Facebook; hope it’s ok to share it here too. “The Guardian” by Carrie Ballentine. (Love her art)
It reminded me of my old dog. 

An old stray collie came to live with me when I was 5. At 7 I got whooping cough. I’d cough so hard I couldn’t breathe. My old dog layed by my bed almost every minute for two whole months and when I’d start a coughing fit he would run and find someone to help me. I thought that dog saved my life so many times.

Many years later after he had long passed away I was having a hard time and I dreamed he came and put his head on the bed like he used to when I was 7. I woke up with tears streaming down my face.
I realized that old dog had never left me.

  Sick me. 



The someday when you seek but cannot find me, I’ll tell you where to look.

Come out to the prairie.

Close your eyes and turn your face to the sun and I will come and kiss your checks like warm sunlight.

Come out onto the prairie.

See my handiwork in cloud horses loping across the day’s blue

Come out onto the prairie.

Hear my voice in the song of a meadowlark and my whisper of love in the wind in the grass.

Come out onto the prairie.

Touch the soil to feel me live, hear my heart in the rhythm of the seasons.

Come out onto the prairie.

Find my friend, the moon, and see my smile reflected in his face.

Come out onto the prairie.

I’ll love you there.


I’ve really been blessed to live a life so few women have had the opportunity to; not that it was ever easy but, oh, it was good. 

My Happy Place

My cowboy had these silly boxers that had printed on them: Gone to my Happy Place, Be back Soon. Not sure that’s quite right on underwear but it always made me laugh anyway. 

But I’ve been kind of going to my Happy Place lately. You know, the kind of place where you were so happy that it stuck forever in your memory? 

When I was a kid it was sitting on the cement steps beside my 80 year old friend while he played his little accordion, how much is that doggie in the window, my Bonnie lies over the ocean, and mommy said not to beans in my ears were 3 of my favorites. I remember the details so clear. The garden-soil filled lines in his thumb that was stuck through the strap, his big brown boots tapping out, the rythm, the few gray hairs on the top of his head. He loved me, Mr. Larsen. 

Then later as a mother and a wife it was riding out on the prairie with my Cowboy and our three daughters when they were little girls. The sun was a golden yellow like the prairie. He was wearing this yellow shirt riding a big old yellow horse with our middle daughter behind him and I had the youngest riding on my horse with me and the oldest girl was riding a horse by herself. The whole scene was warm and sunny and peaceful. 

Then at this time of year it’s being the shepherd at the outdoor Christmas Padgent. Looking like an abominable with so many bulky warm clothes on under my costume I was able to, in my imagination, be transported to the real scene those thousands of years ago and kneel in reall awe by the manger in which lied the Saviour of the world. 

But my favorite happy place is one that hasn’t quite happened yet. It’s another imagined so detailed as to be actually real. In one of our church buildings there is a life size picture of Jesus Christ with his arms outstretched just as if he is about to give the onlooker/me a hug. I imagine running to those arms and have them wrap so happily and kindly around me while I cry overwhelmed by his love for me and my gratitude to him. I look forward to that happy place.  


The Chance

Today I ran across this song by Tim McGraw. I guess I’ve been still fighting for life but maybe I ought to be thinking about what I’d do with what’s left of mine regardless.

click here

A bull named Fu Man Chu? Well maybe. lol

Christmas Decorating 

A really nice tree   

My mom made this little house. Also note the Christmas stocking hung on the bookshelf with care. 
But this is my favorite, most important decoration and has been for over 60 years. So much appreciated my mom giving it to me. I loved it as a child and love it to this day. 


Missing the Range

This living in town has it’s perks I guess but dang . . .

I found this. It helped.

Horseback Religion

Now a cowboy makes his living a horseback,

and most Sundays he’s on the range,

to the preacher and the deacons

this may seem a little strange.

But he doesn’t miss a chance to worship,

just because he’s not in town,

God build the range he works on

and he sees it all around.

When the snow melts in the spring

and the grass starts coming along,

it renews the cowboys spirit,

like night gives way to the dawn.

He looks out over his horses ears,

and watches the sun come up,

God building a new day around him

an it sure fills his cup.

He watches a wild ol range cow

as she licks her new born calf,

that’s God working before his eyes

and beats the city a mile an a half.

There’s wildlife all around him

all following natures course,

no man lives closer to God

than the one who does it on his horse.

Now a cowboys wild and reckless,

he may not stop and count the cost,

but he knows his maker better

than some who thinks he’s lost.

The good cowboy wont mistreat his horse

or let his company down,

he wont lie about what he’s done

but he may jar loose when he is in town,

he will ask the Lord forgiveness

the same as all the rest

then rope his morning horse

and try to do his best.

A top hand will ask no favors,

he takes the good with the bad

and he knows he wont face anything

as tough as his savior has.

He works in constant danger,

and he takes chances everyday,

but the Lord is right there with him

as he shows and lights the way.

I’ve been pinned down under snaky broncs

with no one around to lend a hand,

and come out just scratched and bruised

so I knew God was in command.

Well I’ve watched wild horses running

with an ol mare in the lead,

my throat gets tight an my heart beats fast

as God fills my special need,

You cant stack money high enough

to buy what God has done for me.

When he made me a buckaroo

and sent his Son to set me free,

as I ride across God’s country

with his handy work all in view,

My old Hamley saddle

makes a plumb good cowboy pew.

So as I work cows here on earth,

I am never at a loss,

that I’ll make the final round up,

where Christ is wagon boss.

Ray Fitzgerald

Kokernot 06 Ranch

Fort Davis, Texas

You can’t stack money high enough to pay God for what he’s done for me.