"God must be a cowboy at heart...."

"Campfire, some coffee,
from a tin cup in my hand.
Sure warms the fingers when it's cold

Playing an old guitar,
a friend I understand,
sure smoothes the wrinkles in my soul

And I think God must be a cowboy at heart.
'Cause He made wide-open spaces,  from the start.
He made grass and trees and mountains,
and a horse to be a friend.
And trails to lead old cowboys home again..."

There was a year or two when this Dan Seals album served as the background music during long, happy days of driving my old Jeep, along Colorado's Front Range, for office appointments and home visits.  Me 'n Dan singing "God Must Be a Cowboy..." at the top of our lungs...the window cranked down, my books next to me on the long bench seat,  and a perfect blue Rocky Mountain sky overhead.   

I like thinking of God as a Cowboy....it makes me smile.  I've had the privilege of knowing some pretty amazing cowboys.  Guys...and gals...like Bob Howe, Rusty Signor, "Bronco" Bill Webster, Dave Marshall, Don Gregory, Dustin Monie, Steve Chitwood, Rob Boucher, Kit and Ian Bartalos, Brooks Anderson, Leslie Miller, Linda Clarke, Allison Paddock Abdelnour, Pete Husack, Heather Barron, Jessie Orlet, Matthew Leon, Laura Southworth, Moffet Zoe, Kenny D"Evelyn, Kristin Voorhees (and oh my goodness, there are so many, many more...including all* the AU corral staff from the last few decades)...but, for me, the cowboy I've learned the most from, about what God, as a cowboy, might be like...is Lachlan Clarke. 

Lach is, first and foremost, a gentleman.  He is gentle.  And it is this gentleness, that makes him one of the strongest men I have ever known.  He is quiet.   Without saying a word, teenagers stop what they are doing...or saying...and wait quietly for instruction.  Horses are calmed, dogs stop barking, and the earth seems hushed in anticipation of his next move. 

He is alert.  If there ever, really, was a man with "eyes in the back of his head," it would be Lachlan Clarke.  He moves with the stealth of an Indian brave hunting in the forest, and on a cattle drive, he can anticipate a steer's next move with uncanny foresight. 

This summer while working with Lach, I learned a lot about why the metaphor of God, as a cowboy, might serve as a spiritual discipline.  I discovered that a cowboy is unfazed by shifting conditions, or scenes.  He is well-prepared, and stays deep in the saddle, whether in storm, or shine.  He is ever-alert to the direction of the wind, the quiver of a horse's flanks, the undulating, hard-packed pasture beneath her hooves, the scents of crushed mountain yarrow, and the evolving gold of an aspen-filled valley.  He is alert, but unruffled by fast-approaching weather patterns...making course corrections, and trail changes without reaction, or remark. 

No matter how alarming the picture, a cowboy...or at least the ones I've known, and especially Lachlan Clarke...takes it in stride.  It's not a problem, just another opportunity to put a developed skillset to use...cleaning, bandaging, repairing, navigating, nursing, all done without fear, or trembling.    He knows that the real work happens in the heart.  He is calm, mentally disciplined, unruffled.  He has an entire herd of horses (and sometimes, kids and cattle) reading the winds of his emotional leadership, he can't afford to react...so he doesn't.

I could go on and on. 

A cowboy's love for the entire earth...dry, dusty pastures, verdant mountain valleys, long hot days, clear, cold nights under a bowl of stars with a "horse to be a friend," a mug of something hot in his hands, and a guitar for conversation...it's all good.  His ability to lead without saying a word...to signal a change of direction, with a hand so gentle, that those watching have no idea that a finger even twitched.

But what Lach most taught me this summer, about God as a cowboy, was the gentle strength of love.  Love without words, love that encourages with the tenderness of a whisper, love that is firm, love that lets go, love that has the courage to do what needs to be done, love that laughs, and sings, and says, "no," while making you just so glad that you were deserving of his correction. 

I learned practical lessons about the love that listens with every cell of its entire being, while still aware of everything else around him.  About the love that comforts with one smooth stroke along the long neck of a mare who is skittish and uncertain in a new setting.  I learned about the love that persists long after everyone else has gone to the dining room for dinner, and is up before dawn.  I learned that an entire herd will stand at the fence line waiting for his boots on the porch of his cabin in the morning, or his truck on the road at dinnertime...and I learned that even the most distracted teen will give his/her undivided attention to the kind of love that puts up with "no nonsense," but loves beyond mistake or failing. 

Yes, I do think that God must be a cowboy at heart, because not only did He make "wide open spaces from the start," but because all the cowboys (and cowgirls) I know have taught me to trust in the unseen, listen for the unheard, wait for the unexpected, and love with the unparalleled, unfathomable, incomparable tenderness founded in real strength...strong faith, hope, and respect for God's silent power, tender mercy, and amazing grace.

Thanks Lach, Linda..and all the amazing horses who have taught us immeasurable lessons in gentleness, strength, patience, perserverence, trust, and grace...especially to our dear Espresso who taught me to fly...

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit:  Ashley Bay 2010]

*there are so many of you who have taught me the gifts of divine Love, from the saddle of a horse...I wish I could name you, each and all, here...but the list would be so long I would never get this posted.  Please know that you are there in my heart, and between the lines. Thank you for teaching my daughters about God from this vantage point.  

"In this life I was loved by you..."

"Let the world stop turnin'
Let the sun stop burnin'
Let them tell me love's not worth going through
If it all falls apart
I will know deep in my heart
The only dream that mattered had come true
In this life, I was loved by you"
-Reid/Shawblin

When Clara was about seven months old my world felt like it was unraveling at the seams…literally falling apart. 

We were living in a little cottage that, within an hour, went from being our "heaven on earth," to becoming a catapult towards the unknown.  Now, I've done "unknown" in my life…a lot.  I've moved on a dime, I've launched businesses without a financial safety net, I've driven away from all I knew with a hundred dollars (30 years ago a hundred dollars went a lot further than it does today) in my wallet and a little suitcase on the backseat of the car I was driving cross country to deliver to a friend's brother.

But as much as launching your life into the unknown by yourself might be lonely, your choices, ultimately, only seem to directly effect you.  In other words, if you mess up you're the only one who might go hungry that night.  If you take a wrong turn, you're the only one who will have to retrace their steps.  

But as a mother, finding yourself on the brink of that unknown landscape where "beyond this place there be dragons," without a paycheck, and three children to provide for, is terrifying. 

But this is where we found ourselves that gray day in November, and I was barely holding it together.  Had it not been for my growing understanding of God's omnipotent goodness and His tender care for His beloved children I would have collapsed in on myself. 

Yes, I had seen countless proofs of His guidance, and love, in our lives.  And yes, I had experienced His "rabbit out of a hat" kind of divine surprises.  But….

And that's where this story begins.  In a "But…" moment of inner what-iffing myself into a tortured, frantic state of terror.

I was sitting on the floor of our living room playing with Clara, and her sister Emma, who were bouncing and twirling in their baby bouncy seats.  Their older sister was sitting on the sofa reading a book for school, and I could feel the tears I had been trying to hold in ready to burst their banks, and start down my cheeks.  I closed my eyes trying to staunch their flow, all the while praying that God would open my eyes to the presence of His care.

As I sat there I praying, if not for answers, then at least for some spiritual poise so as not to alarm our girls--the twins bouncing and giggling just inches from me--I felt the softest touch on my cheek. 

I opened my eyes and there was Clara reaching across the space with her little hand, to place her palm against my cheek.  She looked in my eyes with all the wisdom of a sage, and let her hand quietly rest there for just a few moments, but it was enough.

This post isn't about how that experience resolved itself…although it did, and we were cared for by God's love and wisdom in countless unexpected ways.  But it is about that moment of maternal terror--when it seemed like I had somehow let my children down and couldn't find my way out of a mental maze of self-doubt and a false sense of personal responsibility for having all the answers all the time--and how a simple touch turned my tears of terror, into tears of gratitude and joy. 

Clara's tiny hand and the wisdom in her eyes…reminded me that we were not specks of human dust on an ever tilting planet cast about by circumstance and chance, predisposed to mistakes, and random acts of poor judgment. 

Her touch, like her sister's arm linked through mine on a walk through a department store, her laughter on the phone, or Emma's smile from the backseat of the car in my rear view mirror, was a reminder that we are all on this journey together.  And, that the journey isn't about securing a house, finding the perfect job, or making all the right decisions and choices for ourselves…or others. 

The real journey is in those moments of a tiny palm on a tear-stained cheek. The connectedness we feel with one another as children of God…brothers and sisters of one Parent. 

As we care for, and comfort, one another -- share in each other's joys, sorrows, triumphs, and countless instance of when we have the courage to "try-again," we confirm that there is a divine root system connecting us through our humanity. A spiritual eco=system of Love's designing. 

Our kindness to one another confirms that we are not selfish mortals born of human history, or randomly mutating cells, but brothers and sisters, moms, dads, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, neighbors, colleagues, friends, pets, classmates, global citizens, galaxy inhabitants…in Christ.  We are not here to get it right…socially, financially, professionally, religiously…we are here to do it right…and I believe that means to do it with love. 

I have read the following story before, but when someone sent it to me today it reminded me of how often we needed to be reminded of what our calling is in this universe.   I believe it bears sharing:

Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.

The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbour was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.

Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.

When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbour, the little boy said,'Nothing, I just helped him cry.'

Touch a cheek today, help someone cry, let someone help you…but do something to confirm for yourself, and others, that we are much more than we sometimes remember we are…help someone see that "the only dream that matters has come true"…in this life they were loved by you…
Kate