Blessings in Life

Spring 2014--- Bible Study Challenge

" To Change my outlook on life, stop focusing on the bad and start looking for the Blessings God provides in all situations."

Could I accept this? I was deep in sorrow and anguish, my spirit was broken. To many  things going on to even keep ahead of.  All frustrating an hurtful.   My oldest daughter was choosing a life path that we as parents could not support. We were throwing hurts at each other or just crying every day. This situation had consumed my life for so long that I all I saw or lived in was fear for her, sorrow for me that I was loosing her, concern for my husband who was also very broken.

And now for some  reason God is telling me to look for good, to change my outlook on life, to rejoice. Yea, right.  My Wednesday morning small group elected to watch a short video series on just this topic.  So I sat in, watching half heartedly. Something in me kept telling me I deserved to live in despair. My situation in life called for it.

I can't even remember the name of the Video Series.  The gal speaking was hard to understand as she spoke as she saw life.. in poetry... Describing situations and times with a photograph in mind.  Perfect sunsets, beautiful babies, happy times.  Until she described remembering watching her young child get run over by  a truck and killed. She too had darkness in her life. How did she survive? How would I?

Part of this video series was a personal challenge.  To start searching for things in my daily life that God had blessed me with. To look for blessings in today.  To peel apart my day and find little pots of gold.  And most important to write them down.

I started small. 5 Blessings a day.  They were hard to find.  So I found joy in what I saw or felt: spring flowers, snowstorms, sleep, surviving the day to fight tomorrow.  I now see Blessings everywhere.  I intentionally look for them.

Is my life any easier or better? Not really.  My heart is lighter because of my shift in focus. Adult children are still frustrating, work is still work, loved ones still die.



Here is a sampling of what is in my Blessing book.

1. Safety for all when the tire went flat.
2. Speedy service at tire store.
11. warm sun on my face.
19. Church Family
36. Antibiotics
63. Nutella in my Oatmeal
67.  No dog poop in the house
85. Cuddles on the couch
126. Strawberries
150. Good Friday-  Jesus gave his life today
172. 41 minutes workout
202. Really good soup
235. Gas discount at the pump
259. 12 inches of snow--no lawn work for a long time
317. Spiky hair
331. Happier heart after a week of crying
384. Lessons learned in a raft flip
448.  Friends as nurses who stayed thru Toni's surgery
559.  Sunday Cinnamon Rolls
791. First ski practice
871. Pay Day
1000.  Housekeeper comes today
1037. new PFD
1095. Spring Snowstorm---no travel---conference call
1098. Right now both of us have a job
1203. Max will be home today
1215.  Middle Fork Of the Salmon
1228. sunscreen
1250. Drumming loud and hard
1294. Friend in hospital---safe --- after river accident
1300.  Matea in an orange

Add caption

 I have been adding pictures and other items. This is truly my daily reminder that God blesses me every day!


I have come to the end of paper in this spiral notebook. I am starting a new book..a new good friend...

I am looking forward to the next 1000 blessings.

Boulder Rhythm Retreat 2015

      The LORD said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD for the LORD is about to pass by. Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountain apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire.  After the fire came a gentle whisper.   When Elijah heard it he pulled his cloak over his head and stood at the mouth of the cave…….The LORD said to him, ”Go back the way you came.”      1King 19:11-2,15

And the LORD told me, “Go to the retreat, be in my presence for I am about to pass by!”  Planning, understanding bosses, good roads, it all worked out.  I was preparing myself for greatness, for life changing times.  HE promised me to be near.

I feel the wind in the circle.  The energy of the drums.  No, it is the earthquake.  I can’t decide.  The pulse the loudness.  I am lost in the repeating of my internal rhythm pounded hand to drum.  Into my sole.  The energy consumes me.  I have to be careful. I could easily have my world blown away, my mountain torn apart. I feel like I can climb into the crevasse the earthquake has left, hide in the rhythm.  3,4,5, the cycles merge so does my pulse.

The dance, the drums are such a part of this.  The energy hits me in the face, hot and sweaty. I twist, turn, hop and sweat until the wind I have created has blown off my outer shell.  I am left with my inner core exposed.  It takes 2 full days for the wind to fully blow my shell away.  The fight to hold on to self- consciences me is strong.  My temple, my body, finally crumbles.  It leaves me raw and trembling.  It frees me to dance in the middle of the circle, to be the real me.  No more hiding.  No apology.

The fire comes not in anger or destruction but in love.  Love that I see in Matthew’s face when he finds a tone or rhythm that is good to him.  Love in sharing his gift of the love of music with others.  Love from the artists preparing our meals.  Love from the building of a camp family.  Fire from the affirmation to love each other openly without apology.

Between the wind, earthquake and the fire I find myself hearing a still small voice.  GOD’s voice.  Sometimes I search for it, sometimes it is right on my shoulder singing in my ear.

God tells me he is so proud of his creation in us.  He sees and feels all we do. (After all we were made in his image!) His joy is being able to experience our rejoice, our praise.  His pride in us is the same as when we are proud of our children; when they play and sing and learn and dance, or do even greater things.  He is proud of the connections we have made, of the family we have become.  We care for each other, affirming great things, like new drums or rhythms learned, and we love each other this week. 

Early morning, in that place between wakefulness and sleep, where dreams are real and fairies live, I hear HIM.  HIS voice it comes in the form of a harp or flute.  The harp plays “PUFF THE MAGIC DRAGON.” Same song Toni was singing yesterday.  The flute is filled with sorrow and longing for those spirits who have given up their physical bodies.  I share this longing, this sorrow.  I to know loss.  I am reminded that the people I carry in my heart are still with me.  They all have had a part in creating the person I am today.  I pass them on to my children.  In me they have eternity.

God says that if I truly want to see his face, I must  look into a child’s eyes.  This group of youngsters is growing up.  Trying to be adult but at the same time not really excited about the adult activities. We adults give them the space they need.  I am honored they want to play with me. That they feel safe to include me in a game.  Just for a few minutes I am one of them, I see who they truly are. The future, my future.

Just as Elijah was told to go back down the mountain, so must I.  I leave tired but loved and beautiful.  I feel alive with the person I have become.  I desire to live in this being the rest of my life.  I am holding tight to the Boulder River feeling.  The drive back to civilization, dirt road then black top to the highway to Red Lodge, stop at a gas station for junk food and a soda.  It eases me back into the real world, baby steps one at a time. 

 As we drive my phone finds service.  Over and over it chimes in, 20 texts over 30 emails. Reality hits it does not pull punches.    Gma though only 5 feet tall has in her pushy, grumpy, self- centered way, managed to crush Tall Son's heart.  Constant demands and never a thank you for work done.  Only reminders that he should feel obligated to help her because she is family. She cannot understand that in his eyes he will never be good enough for her.  

It takes me less than 5 minutes back to become fat, old and uncomfortable in my own skin.  My tummy is too big and my skirt (the one I am a little proud to have made myself,) does not fit right.  Maybe I should wear clothes more age appropriate!  YEOW!!  Welcome to reality.

I fight the urge to spray someone in the face with my new improved squirt gun.  My car wants to make a U-turn and go back to the retreat.  Alas, I must go back down the mountain the way I came.  For GOD has commanded it.  I drag my feet and take 6 more days to float rivers and play.  I hold on to the Rhythm of the retreat just as much as I can.  It will slip away soon enough as my life gets busy with daily obligations.

5 Days of the Boulder Rhythm Retreat, wrapped in gold, stored in my heart.  This is my gift to myself.  I will take the package out often. ( I have video in my IPAD!) The memories are mine to cherish until I can get back next year.

Canyon Clean Up 2015 or A Day Designed Just For Me!

I was asked by a friend and her husband to take pictures of  a project they were organizing.  They called it Clean Up The Canyon.  They know me too well.  I am passionate to the point of obsession about picking up trash in and out of town.  I think they knew I could not pass this opportunity up.  It would be a double bonus for me, trash pick up and photography.  Oh happy Sunday afternoon!




Everything was full of bullet holes

and left  where it fell.

One of the thousand plastic bottles.

I have not been out to Rogers Canyon n a few years.  In fact I cannot remember when I was there last.  As I drove the curvy road into the canyon I was struck by the beauty, the beginning of greening up for Spring, the low steep cliff walls, the wilderness feel.  This is a place where people feel safe to bring their guns to shoot targets, to sight in hunting rifles.

 As I found out real fast, a place that people feel free to leave whatever they have used as a target. A place justified by the sport of target shooting to defile the natural wild spaces with everything from old televisions to school text books and anything else that could be shot to Hell. 

I don't understand the state of mind of people like this.  Don't get me wrong I appreciate the idea that we all have our own ways to enjoy life, to let off steam.  I am not anti gun by any means. Hunting is a way of life out here.  I myself have been known to appreciate a good Elk Steak!  I skied Biathalon in high school and college. I used to be pretty good with a .22 rifle, it is a must for the sport. The big kids both participated in shooting sports in 4-H.  It is not the gun I hate.  It is the lack of respect for the land that these shooters have for Rogers Canyon.  A place of unique beauty, a place to be cherished not strewn with garbage.




Thank you to my friend "H" and her husband "C", they are not the typical sport shooters.  This state that Rogers Canyon had become was on their hearts.  Unlike many who say something should be done and then walk away,  they did something.  They organized a Clean Up The Canyon afternoon.  They bribed (ok, offered up)  a BBQ after the hard work was over for all volunteers.  They expected maybe 5-10 people to show up.  They were blessed with many more. I was lucky to be one of the people with  a garbage bag in hand and camera in the other. 

 

 

 The orange is remnants of thousand of clay pigeons.  The theory is that they are biodegradable.  BUT this takes a lot of rain.  Something we in the high desert are lacking.










Thousands of clay pigeons were shot by thousands x2 shot gun shells.  And the plastic packing is everywhere. In less than 20 minutes I had filled a 13 gallon garbage bag full with buck shot casings and wadding.  Is it just too hard to bend down and pick up the bright red, orange and green shells?



 



Picking it up!

So grateful for such good help.

This hillside is the size of a couple football fields.

 

I came on this  carcass of an Antelope. (Prong Horn). Many things are so wrong here.  It is not the meat  provided for food, I like a good antelope chili,  but the disrespect in the dumping then shooting full of buck shot. What gain was there in this?  This was one of 3 carcasses found this way.   If this had been my dog, or a person I could press charges.  P.S. animal carcasses are to be taken care of properly after  butchering.   




In all 4 truck loads of garbage were hauled out of the canyon.  One afternoon, such a small amount of time, such good work!











 

 

I am ready to continue the good work.  I took a garbage bag to the dog walk field by my house today.  As the hound ran, I filled the bag with trash.  Thanks "H" and "C" for inspiring me.



Food For Thought

Off the river once more.  And a start of River season for this year.  The annual Spring Break Float on the San Juan River.  I know this part of river pretty well. It has become a good friend and a welcome respite to the cold and snow of Laramie in March.


Since we try to camp at the same camps every year, hike the familiar hikes and see the constant red sand walls of the canyon, I have begun to remember the trip by what we ate.  Don't get me wrong, the river, camps and hikes are all wonderful, but they are the constant on the trip. Planning and cooking real GOOD meals, feeding the masses, this is my pigeon hole, the role I am expected to fill, the area that Jerry never looks at as he is  busy working in his comfort zone of the technical aspects of the raft and logistics of the trip. And if expected and allowed to only do this role, I will do it to my best ability.  I will bless all with meals worthy of  the river.

The Kitchen

Tastes and smells are vivid memory triggers.  I just read that when studying for a test a person should chew gum, then chew that exact flavor of gum while taking the test.  The taste helps bring back the memory of the facts. For me it is Chocolate Chip cookies and getting off the Middle Fork of The Salmon or Pesto Gnocchi and the San Juan River, or Chicken Pot Pie and Desolation Canyon. 

Here are actual journal entries from this Spring Break Trip.  This is how I remember the trip.  Sorry some of us just think with our taste buds.



3-14-15 Sand Island Put In
Meatball Subs and Cherry Pie as it is National Pie day
Launch tomorrow












3-15-15 Big Stick Camp

First Day

Stir fry and Cake

Camera is ruined already

expensive  trip

Pineapple Upside Down Cake



3-16-15 Big Stick Camp

Lasagna Night

Hiked the wash across the river



3-17-15 St Patty's Day

Midway Camp

No broken toe but bashed shin

Potatoes and Chicken Gravy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



3-18-15 Lime Creek Camp

Taco Night

lost a paddle in 8 foot rapid

                                     

                                                 

 

 

 

 







3-19-15 Eric's Birthday

Lime Creek Camp

Chicken/Gnocchi Chicken

Birthday Cake

Hiked Lime creek with Toni

Happy Birthday Eric

















I am starting too think about next trip.  Oh the food, Oh the weight gained.

Religion of Nordic Skiing

Religion:  1) A particular system of faith and worship.  2) A pursuit or interest to which someone ascribes supreme importance.

I am both of these definitions:

I hope the world can tell that I am openly and vocally a Christian.  I believe in God, the Creator of the universe, me included.    Without this "Religion" in my life I would live crushed,  dark and miserable all the time.  For God is love, light and my savior.  I have heard more than one Pastor define the word "Religion" as, to bind or hold to.  Like someone would hold on to my wrist and drag me to Heaven.  I don't feel that way at all.  I feel the freedom of forgiveness.The freedom of love, the freedom to be human every day. 

Nordic Skiing: My interest that I chase with supreme importance.

 I thought I had left the lifestyle. I thought I had put my heart in raising the family, to being a wife, even a missionary. If I put my head down and lived daily life, survived the grind of life, I could erase the pull Nordic Skiing had on my heart.  Once a Nordic always a Nordic, sort of like being an Alcoholic. A lot like being a Christian.

I figured it out the other day. (It has taken me only 40 years to make this discovery!) It is not the go fast, or the technique, (though I love the technique part), or the sweat generated while skiing.  It is the pure pleasure of being on the trails.  Being one with the snow, the temperature, the sun, the snowflakes, the wind.  It is closing my eyes and feeling the trees around me become my family, listening to them talk to me as they squeak in the wind.






"Awesome, Wonderful, Fantastic, Fun!" These are the words out of  my daughter's mouth when we ski.   Same daughter who cannot put a full sentence together.  Who does not need to when out skiing. I brings pure joy to my heart to witness her joy out on the trails.







It is life's timing. GOD's timing in my life.  I am now a coach.  That is my title.  It is what the kids call me.  Coach Hamann.  It is more than a title.  More than teaching these young teens how to stand on their skis.  It is opening their mind, soul, body, to the Nordic world.  I desire for them to yearn for the trails all their lives.  To become brothers and sisters with the forest they ski through, to allow the weather to touch them deeply.  To reach for the sun on their faces.  To feel the spiritual connection between the snow and them.  To become a part of something so much greater than they are.

OK,  as a coach I want them to ski fast and crush the competition!  There is a certain heartfelt joy in this. 

The team season is over. I still can't believe I get paid to ski 3 times a week. (With 60 of my best friends each time!)

Just like my quiet time with my bible every day, I need that alone time on the trails.

With that said... I am off for some "Religion" time.  Happy Skiing.