another filler post...

I've got too many things to do... and I'm not doing any of them well. Further updates will be posted eventually. 

The week that I'm directing starts on Sunday and there is a lot of stuff to do... Please be praying. I just want to sleep. 

-Nick

Y2, Day 17 The one where we all get a little nervous...

The last day has been a doozy. Not only did I have to post a filler blog because I was to tired to write anything, but I also had one of the most difficult rides we've ever had.

Monday we started off with our regular trail rides. The first was plagued by a few horses pulling back while tied up and the second ride we saw no less than 4 snakes (2 bull, 2 rattlers) but we soldiered on and had two safe rides.

Yesterday we also had 3 rides... The first two went great, we were happy that our system appeared to be kicking in and our rides were moving along.

But the third ride was interesting. We started out of the corral and I felt a twinge of doubt as I looked at the hint of a storm on the horizon. I didn't feel like it was much to be worried about as even the worst storms I've seen out here took a few hours to build before they moved in. However we were not so lucky this day. As we started out on the ride we made an effort to stay close enough that if we got surprised we'd be able to get back safely.

Within a few short minutes we decided to head home (maybe a ten minute ride away) but as we headed home the storm swept down on us and within a few seconds the calm air had whipped into a powerful wind, causing the horses to turn into the wind and due to the riding level of most kids with us we were unable to maintain control or safety.

At this point I decided to have the ride dismount and we attempted to lead the horses back in, just in time for a flurry of hail to hit us.

Responding to an increasingly viscous storm and almost total panic with the kids we let the horses loose and I saw my team and the counselors with us put themselves between the kids and the hail and walk them down the hill to a nearby tree where we hunkered down to ride out the worst of it.

On sort order we had a van come pick up the kids and I am incredibly blessed to tell you that they're all happy, healthy, and looking forward to the rest of the week.

We also were blessed by all the tack being in good shape when we got it back in (the only damage is stuff that I can fix easily)

I tell you thus not to make myself look good but to testify to the glory of God. He kept us from greater disaster and kept the entire team doing what they were supposed to.

I also want to brag on my team a bit, I'm blessed to have guys and gals working with me that when thing go bad are true professionals, I saw kids hugged and encouraged, protection provided without a thought, quick and effective responses to rapidly changing conditions... And a drive to succeed that blows me away.

I would ask that you pray for Sean (one of my Wranglers) he twisted his ankle pretty bad and is getting it looked at today. Pray for quick healing for him.

Continue to pray for our safety, these situations can be tough but pray that we continue to be prepared for whatever comes our way.

God is good, and despite the struggles we're still here doing what he's called us to.

-Nick

Filler.. Or failure?

I am worn out. And we have to be saddled before breakfast. This work that I  love might be the death of me yet.

Goodnight friends

-Nick

Y2, Day 15. The one about dad.

Today is Father's day. The day that fathers are told to stand up in church... and children are told to call home or send a card or somehow acknowledge for a moment what their father means to them.

The buildup to Fathers day this year has been especially painful... every "get dad this thing" commercial, every radio ad lauding the work of fathers everywhere... and more painful still, every exortation from the pulpit or church bulletin for men to be better fathers. Why are these things painful? Because for the first time I'm alone here... My dear old Dad is gone where I cannot reach him.

The last few months I have often repeated the story of how Dad died. But just for this day, I refuse to tell that story. Instead let me tell you how he lived...

My dad was a whirlwind trapped in a weary shell. A year after I was born he was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and struggled against its influence the entire time I knew him. He got angry and struggled often with being unable to be the man he felt he needed to be. But I never saw it quite the same way... Dad was dealt an incredibly difficult hand, but he never gave up (at least for very long) and most people never realized that he was limited at all because of the whole-hearted way he lived.

It was not unusual for me as a kid when I was looking for dad in a crowd or at church that instead of looking real hard with my eyes I'd just listen and inevitably I'd hear dad's voice enthusiastically discussing something. The topic really didn't matter because it could be him talking about hockey, theology, politics, or he could just be discussing life, or telling a story. Regardless of topic if it was worth talking about it was worth being passionate about.

When I walked into the kitchen here at camp this morning and saw dirty dishes piled all over the place I became a bit frustrated that grown adults seem incapable of cleaning up after themselves... but I was also reminded of what would happen if we left a mess in Dad's kitchen... Dad would have let us know he was frustrated and then either ask us to clean up our own mess... or he'd do it for us. This morning... I decided to be frustrated, but to do what I think he would have done... rolled up my sleeves and got the job done so others wouldn't have to.

I remember January this last year, where dad was eager to hear about everything going on in our lives. He loved it when we'd share our hopes and dreams, our failures and our struggles. Sometimes he'd offer a solution or a different perspective on the spot (he rarely let truth that needed to be said go unspoken) and sometimes he'd just take it in to ponder later... but he always listened.

I remember the last time he spoke to me... How I was carrying my stuff out to the car so I could zip back to spearfish for work the next day. How I came back into the house and he helped me make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. How I said goodbye and closed the door behind me... and Dad in perfect form came running out after me because He almost forgot to tell me he loved me. I remember him standing on the front porch waving as I drove off... and every time I see that house, I see him there still...

I have the greatest dad any man could hope for. A man of whom the world was not worthy... A man of passion and love. I truly am blessed to know the God of my fathers... and have it mean more to know the living God of John, and Martin, and John Jr, than it does to know the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

I am the son of a man who lived well. A man that I love dearly. My highest honor and joy is to be told "you're just like your dad"

-Nick