Out Our Way: Charlie's Trailer - Psalm 98

   Out our way, the land and sky are beautiful, but not always friendly. One day the weather is mild and pleasant and the next an Alberta Clipper comes roaring down covering the land and water with snow and ice. You learn to be prepared for any weather out here. You keep blankets, a small shovel. and a bed roll in the trunk of the car starting in early fall and through the spring. You tie your slicker behind the saddle even though the sky is bright and no clouds are visible. I recall days of great beauty and sunshine working cows with Charlie on Tiger Ridge, but also days when it was cold and wet and miserable. As folks like to say, "It is what it is," and you just have to deal with it. But there was one constant regardless of weather, trail condition, and the mood of the herd ... at the end of the ride was Charlie's Trailer.

That big red trailer parked out on the flats was always a welcome sight after a day of work, regardless of how the day had gone. And more than once it was the thought of loading into that trailer that kept me going, for Charlie's Trailer meant the end of the day's labor and that we were finally heading for home. It meant rest, relaxation, a good supper and a warm bed lay ahead. When you are half frozen, teeth chattering, back aching and legs cramping, knowing that the trailer was ahead somehow made the miles go easier.

Even now, long after my cowboy days are over, I still see Charlie's Trailer in my mind. Riding up a long hard ridge, ole Doc blowing and stumbling in his exhaustion as well, and seeing that bright red trailer down the other side. I hear the meadowlarks singing like angels, smell the sweetgrass and sage, and see the sun still brightly lighting the way even as the shadows were growing. And I feel that sense of peace and joy. 

I wonder if heaven will be like that. It seems the Psalmist thought so, as the words of hope and joy reflect that same vision. But notice the joy begins long before we get to the trailer. The promise is what makes the meadowlarks sing in our hearts and the sage perfume the senses. Knowing the trailer is there, waiting, transforms the last stages of the ride into a celebration.

Most of us have experienced some hard trails and rough country in life. Few of us have escaped without wounds, scars and other souvenirs of life's realities. The trail is hard, and sometimes painful. Who of us has not been tossed and stomped? If you are going to ride, you are going to get hurt from time to time. Pushing cows with a cow pony is not taking a trail ride on an old plug who can barely walk, nor riding some painted wooden horse on a merry go round. Living life is no less uncertain, and few, if any, of us get through it without our share of bruises, wounds and pain. But the trailer lies ahead. The promise and hope of something more than this present pain and sorrow helps us get back up, crawl into the saddle and even wincing in pain, continue to ride on.

Yet, we don't ride for the trailer, we ride for the brand. We have work to do for the Boss and until it is finished; we stay in the saddle and keep clearing the thickets, chasing strays and likely getting tossed and banged around. Our purpose is not to get to the trailer ASAP, but to do the job we have been called to do. But even so, we know the trailer is there and we hold onto its promise to give us the strength and energy to keep going.

Thus it is, now and then, in the midst of a long hard drive, we will catch a glimpse of the bright red trailer off in the distance and while we still have a long way to go - the angelic sound of the meadowlark choir and the incense of the sweetgrass and sage reaches us from afarm and our courage and strength is renewed ... and we will "sing to the Lord a new song!"

Be blessed and be a blessing!

Brother John 

--

The Rev. John Bruington is the retired pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Havre. He now lives in Colorado, but continues to write "Out Our Way." He can be reached for comment or dialogue at [email protected].