Out Our Way: Happy trails, pards

As some of you know, my son and I are heading back to Colorado after all these years. It is a good move for us and, as my son says, it will help me move forward again. I have had endured many trials of late — open heart surgery, the loss of my marriage, the death of my trail pard, Charlie, the retirement from my ministry at First and my work at Walmart. But I also have gained so much.

As the slogan goes, “Havre – it’s the people.” I have had incredibly meaningful connections with church and community on the Hi-Line that will never be forgotten. Here is here I became something of a writer and fulfilled the fantasy of playing cowboy alongside the real deal. I think I did some my greatest stretching as a Christian and as a pastor here. But time waits for no one and the reality is it is time to really retire.

I had been looking forward to retirement this past year but when it came I found the emptiness too much for me. I have not moved on as much as I had thought I had — and found I had no goals or vision left. I had never expected to enter retirement alone, and although I had almost five years to prepare for the lonesome trail head, it seems I did not.

But God never gives up on us even when we give up on ourselves. Last April He sent my son to live with me and suddenly, like it or not, I was being encouraged (read PUSHED!) to get moving again. It has not been easy, but I am slowly rolling.

This move is part of that new direction I am seeking. I served the Church in Colorado for 13 years and that is where my boys grew up. One son still lives in the area and, by moving there, I will have nearly my whole family back again. Although I have always had many invitations to share holidays with congregation members after the ex left,, it is still not quite the same as blood kin around the table. It has been five years since I had a family Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Year’s Eve. Now I will have those things again with my boys.

I will trade in my boots, jeans, chaps, hat and rope for Birkenstocks, shorts, T-shirts, and Denver Bronco and Rockies ball caps. But the apartment has a large closet in my room and one area will be reserved for Havre days. My denim shirts, vests, chaps, boots, rope, scarf — and, of course, Charlie’s hat – will have their own space, and now and then I will just go to my Havre Shrine and reflect.

All that said, I want to assure you that it is my intention to continue writing “Out Our Way” and maybe even get the second book written at last. The church I served down there in Colorado may have use for a retired pastor and maybe I can share some of the Hi-Line with these folks. Cowboys are rare out that way — but maybe there will be some interest. One can hope.  (Even while serving there with the grand title of “the Rev. Dr. Bruington” and wearing my Geneva gown with the doctoral stripes each Sunday, a few folks noted that I wore polished up cowboy boots even then — and most approved!)

I intend to keep wearing the polished boots in Church, but the rugged cowboy boots I used for pushing pairs with Charlie will be my daily wear. Maybe I will get into sandals in time. (The Boss seemed to favor them in Judea and Galilee…and the country to which I am going looks, I am told, something like  the wilderness area outside of Jerusalem.)    

Anyway, although living in the high desert of western Colorado, I will continue to use parables from my time on the Hi-Line, chasing strays, pushing bulls and riding through hawthorn bushes where some cows often hid from Charlie and me.   

It may take a while to get settled in and rolling again – but be assured, if the Lord is using these ramblings to serve even one person, He will encourage and inspire me to keep writing them every week. As long as someone will read them and gain some blessing, I will continue writing them. 

You have all heard that old saw, “You can take the man out of Montana, but you can’t take Montana out of the man.” Same is true of the Hi-Line. Who knows — maybe other folk will discover the Hi-Line  and the Missouri Breaks from these writings and get off Highway 2 on their way to Glacier and discover what we treasure. It is not silver and gold that makes us the “Treasure State” out our way. There is much more treasure here than the old gold or coal mines. We who get to roam the hills and back roads see marvels Hollywood could never imagine.

And so Oprah and Tom Cruise and Ralph Lauren will not come here and then fence it off from the rest of us as they have done in Colorado. And if I go to Aspen or Telluride and see the big privacy fences blocking out the view from us ordinary folks, I will smile. For I have ridden the Bear Paws and the Tiger Ridge. I have ridden “the Bob” and even chased a few pair on the “free range” along Beaver Creek. And as they sit in their mansions and gaze at the scenery from afar, I will recall I lived in the scenery — indeed I suspect I would have been part of the scenery if tourists and celebrities had been around.  

But the folks to whom I now return are no celebrities — just regular folks — and like my beloved Church family here in Havre they love me and accept me (cowboy boots and all … although Charlie’s hat, as it does not fit, may be asking too much). If they ask me to come and do the children stories, Bruin Town will be found less than a klick from Havre — and my goofball bears, PeeDee and Scooter, as well as Ratus, my Church Mouse. They will all play for the Bruin Town Bears – but they will be wearing the Blue Pony colors. You will know,  “Bruin Town” is mainly in the Bear Paws and reflects the Hi-Line.  And a great many kids in Colorado are going to fall in love with thee Breaks, the Bob and, above all, the Bear Paws.

Beloved, this column offers little theology, but it does seek to reach out with open arms and let you know, as your brother, I will be far away physically, but in my closet where my chaps, rope, boots, scarf and hat will be set apart, there wll be some Hi-Line in Colorado. I can still smell “Doc” in my chaps and Charlie’s hat and range coat and my broken in boots will all be a constant reminder to me of you. And the column, as long as it remains printed, will be my connection to you.

Next time I will try to offer more cowboy theology — but this column is my hug and firm hand shake to my Hi-Line family. I like the Spanish and French: “Adios” and “adieu”   which both mean “go With God,” but today I prefer the German “auf wiedersehen” — “Until I see you again” —or as my Lakota and Nakota friends have taught me to say, “Later.” The point is, I am not say “good bye” (God be with ye) forever. But as the song Roy and Dale wrote goes, “Happy trails to you until we meet again.”  Here or over the rise where Paradise lies, I will be seeing you all. God is running the outfit and I expect to see you in the bunkhouse when this round up is ended.

Blessings,

Brother John Bruington