"Happy trails to you..."

"Happy trails to you,
Until we meet again.
Happy trails to you,
Keep smilin' until then.

Who cares about the clouds
when we'ere together?
Just sing a song,
and bring the sunny weather.

Happy trails to you,
'Til we meet again."
- Roy Rogers/Dale Evans

I've been thinking a lot about goodbyes lately.  Leaving camp, one daughter half way around the world and two more on a trip to New England,  friends passing on...others living in different states...or countries, children moving into new chapters in their lives, siblings finding their "home" in far-off ports.  And this song, "Happy Trails" by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans (for those of you who grew up watching The Roy Rogers Show every week, click on this link for the familiar opening) brings a smile to my heart.

For many years, singing this song to departing campers as the airport bus pulled out of the turn circle, was a tradition.  Campers would lean out of bus windows waving wildly, as counselors (and those campers who were blessed with another session) waved back singing "Happy Trails".  It always made me feel peaceful to think that we would all see one another again.  I never doubted that our trails would re-converge.  I knew that many of us would pour through the camp gate in another year, and that we would find ourselves at the same campfire, hymn sing, or rodeo...again. 

I much prefer "see you later," to "goodbye."  I am so sure that we will see one another again.  My grandmother once told me, when I asked her, well into her 90s, "what will I do without you?", "Well, I hope you will live your life in a way that you will have great stories to share with me when we see eachother again!"  Her conviction that we would see one another again, and that I better have good stories to share with her, gave my life direction. 

I knew the kind of stories she was talking about...we were both Christian Science practitioners who devoted our lives to helping others discover more about their relationship to God...she expected stories of healing, redemption, transformation, salvation, and resurrection.  She would settle for nothing less.  Nothing else would interest her. 

She had proved that throughout our relationship as grandmother and granddaughter.  Every letter, every postcard, every phone call was full of spiritual inspiration and stories of healing.  As a teenager, this was something that I didn't understand or even like.  I wanted her to talk about grandma things.  To ask me more about my dancing, clothes, boys, school.  But her letters were always about God, and me as His child...pure, perfect, whole, and good.

I still strive to live my life in such a way that I will have good stories to share with her.  But I also try to do the same thing for my daughter who lives 12,000 miles away in South Africa, my friend who lives in another state, campers and counselors I will not see until next summer, and other loved ones who have passed on.

In remembering the lyrics to Happy Trails, I couldn't help but remark on the stanza that is often forgotten:

"...Some trails are happy ones, _
Others are blue. _
It's the way you ride the trail that counts, _
Here's a happy one for you...

Happy trails to you
'Till we meet again..."

Good stories are not just defined by sunny days full of light and laughter, joy and comfort.  Good stories are stories where "the way you ride the trail" counts more than the horse you're on, the weather you encounter, or the scenery along the way.  Were you kind, did you turn to God -- immediately or eventually, were you patient with yourself and others, did you give generously of what you had to share - the act, not the amount being what mattered, did you love much, laugh often, and live with abandon.  

It's the way you ride the trail that counts.

As I look back on the stories of this summer, I am blessed with countless instances where I had a front row seat to campers and counselors who rode their trail...rocky, steep, smooth, dark, or rugged...well.  Very well.  They rode with grace, with courage, with unselfed affections, with persistence, with patience.

My grandmother will love these stories.

Happy trails to each of you...till we meet again,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo of Brittany Richardson by Ashley Bay 2009]

"The farther you reach, the more that you touch..."

"The more that you see,
The less that you know.
The less that you know,
The more that you yearn.
The more that you yearn,
The higher you climb.

The farther you reach,
The more that you touch.
The more that you touch,
The fuller you feel.
The fuller you feel,
The less that you need.
The less that you need,
The farther you reach..."

News of Dan Fogelberg's passing reached me early this morning.  My heart goes out to his wife Jean and to his precious family and closest friends.  His music has comforted me, encouraged me, and provided a soundtrack for many of my life's most poignant moments.

In February I will make my next trip "home" to Colorado's Arkansas Valley.  I will drive over Kenosha Pass and through the high country expanse of South Park with Fogelberg's "High Country Snows" at full volume.  I will weep. 

I know that I have quoted Carly Simon's "Life is Immortal" before, but today it seems especially relevant:

"Life is immortal
and Love is eternal
and death is only a horizon
and the horizon is nothing
save the limit of our sight…"

The limit of our sight, not the limit of our loved one's life.  I can just imagine Dan climbing higher and higher toward the summit of one of his beloved Rocky Mountains…turning to us and waving before cresting the peak. 

So today I will pop High Country Snows, Twin Sons of Different Mothers, or River of Souls into the CD player, I will lean into the wind that blows down from the mountains and across the prairie…sending new snow swirling around my ankles…and I will smile.  How long have his fans in that "next" valley been waiting for a live performance.  How many new listeners will discover this gentle troubadour who,

"gave to me
a gift I know
I never can repay"

Thank you Dan...
     "for your music and your stories from the road",
Kate

Here are links to other Fogelberg-inspired posts:

A Place that I Know

The Higher you Climb

Part of the Plan

There's a Song in the heart of a Woman

I'm sure there will be more...

"I think I'll just let the mystery be..."

"Everybody's wonderin' what
and where they all came from.
Everybody's worryin' 'bout where
they're gonna go when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain
and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be..."

I love this song by Iris DeMent (Mary Huckins of Dakota Blonde sings a great version of it on their Something Simple CD).  Whether we think we know what happens following the transition called death, or we just wonder about it…a lot, its often a topic that rattles around in thought much too often.  I find it is especially persistent in bidding for our attention after the passing of a loved one, or when our own mortality demons poke at us from behind the ajar door of a closeted fear…almost like the characters in Monsters, Inc. whose entire reason for being is to keep children from resting peacefully.  Even when we have had "near death" experiences we return from with new insights, we often then question "what happens after those first transitional moments?"…"what happens beyond that?". 

Whenever I hear this song, I am reminded of an experience I had during an intensive course on spiritual healing I was enrolled in many years ago.  The teacher was wise and kind, and I was honored to be enrolled in the class.  It was a small class and he allowed much time, and opportunity, for discussion and questions.  It was really conducted more like a workshop or seminar, rather than after a traditional instructional pedagogical model.

One of my fellow students had experienced the passing of a loved one just prior to the start of our class, and during our days together of thinking through spiritual existence, healing and salvation, seemed to be pre-occupied with questions about death and the after-life.  "What happens after you "pass on"?  "Will we see our loved ones after we "pass on"?  "Do we have a body after we "pass on"? And so on. 

Our teacher was compassionate and patient with this line of inquiry day after day, but one afternoon, well into the second week he stopped the flow of conversation when our friend asked yet another death related question.  He lovingly said something that has stayed with me…as much of what I took from that course has…for over 20 years.  He said, "If you were to ask as many questions about Life…as  you are about death…death would no longer be a question for you."

Those of us who harbored the same questions and had been grateful that someone else was asking them, but were just too self-conscious to ask them ourselves (i.e. me!) were sobered by that answer.  Hmmm…I had been asking myself (and God) more questions about death than Life, thinking more about how to overcome lack than pondering the nature of God as infinite and abundantly supplying Love, worrying more about how to combat apathy than thankful for all the indications of vision, service, leadership, and passion…all around me…in the world today. 

This really changed my approach to how I pondered the universe, searched for direction in my inner (and outer) life, and contemplated the path towards realizing wholeness and healing in my own life and in the lives of others.

Was I trying to understand the concept of death so that I could battle it…in all it's subtle and insidious forms, or was I so conscious of the nature and verity of Life that death…Life's opposite, it's absence…was no longer a question for me. I want to know about Life...what it is like to live a life that is loving, full, alive with promise. That's what I want to contemplate, ponder and reflect. This is the thinking I want to see as fully occupying my consciousness.

I love the word "mystery".  As my once-upon-a-time-little-girl used to read it from the spine of a Nancy Drew novel when she'd go to the bookshelf and ask…"mommy can we read a my-story".  I think the only mystery in life is in letting God unfold your story to you…in His time and in His way.  I love that I have had so many experiences, so many my-stories, that have proven to me the eternality of life, the power of peace, the presence of health….that have provoked me to consider the nature of God.  So I'm sticking with my-story…my truth and what I am learning as I ponder Life to be enough…to ponder…today.

I think I'll just let "my story" be…whatever God is revealing to me of His allness, presence and power…and "think on these things"…

Enjoy the rest of Iris DeMent's lyrics for "Let the Mystery Be"…provocative, funny, deep, profound…my kind of song!

"...Some say once you're gone
you're gone forever,
and some say you're gonna come back.
Some say you rest in the arms of the Saviour
if in sinful ways you lack.
Some say that they're comin' back in a garden,
bunch of carrots and little sweet peas.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.

Some say they're goin'
to a place called Glory
and I ain't saying it ain't a fact.
But I've heard that I'm on the road to purgatory
and I don't like the sound of that.
Well, I believe in love
and I live my life accordingly.
But I choose to let the mystery be.

Everybody's wonderin' what
and where they all came from.
Everybody's worryin'
'bout where they're gonna go
when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain
and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
I think I'll just let the mystery be."

Don't you love it…"bunch of carrots and little sweet peas"…priceless!
Kate