Hello Hatters,
I’ve been watching a series on my streaming service about living in the wilderness. These families endure hardships that I can’t imagine, but they love this chosen way of life. Catching, cleaning, and cooking my own food, in addition to making a living off of the land is the last occupation I would do, for I’m a city chick through and through. While I don’t understand that desire, I have a healthy respect for pursuing dreams and living well with the Earth. If I’m honest with myself, I watch this series because I see a determination in these people that I witnessed with my own Country Hubby.
He worked most of his career in the city, but he would retreat into a country setting after work and enjoy his own land... Until he met me.
We married and then he was offered a position in a large city, where we lived together for 35 years. We worked in the city and we raised our children in the city. He was out of his preferred environment but the saying is true, “You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.” He found his ways to bring the country living to our world. I think he enjoyed explaining things to me that were foreign to my own path.
I remember many walks through our neighborhoods. He would talk about the trees, flowers, and birds and then tell me many stories of his childhood or working his own land. At one point, we had about 30 acres of land together, but it never panned out for us to live there. I will never know if I could have loved country living. (Where’s the nearest WalMart?) I digress....
When I think of my Country Hubby in the big city and not being in the place of his choice, I know deep down that we were at home in our togetherness. His great big love for me was deeper than a holler and higher than a mountain. I have no idea what a holler looks like but it must be an extreme thing for I know that he loved in a mighty big way.
Today, I had a surprise on the drive going to work. Now, permit me to take you back about two years ago. I drove the same road on the way home from work, and saw some miniature cows in a fenced area. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’ve seen chickens and horses in some areas but no cattle anywhere in our city. I was so excited that when I got home, I got Country Hubby in the car and retraced my route to show him these animals.
He could not stop laughing when he saw the goats. I know what I know, but I don’t know what I don’t know. There’s no such thing as miniature cows, at least not like those critters. So I laughed with him and started watching for these cuties on my daily commute. After a while, sadly, the goats disappeared. Ok, now come back to this morning, and I saw those cute little brown goats again.
Of course, the whole conversation from two years ago replayed in my mind and I had myself a good laugh. Oh, how I miss the life lessons I gleaned from Country Hubby. So, I was thinking about the goats, and the series about living in the wilderness, which requires a committed determination by these people. Finally, my Country Hubby had persevered through so many health trials, and yet he was determined to keep going in his country ways for as long as he could. He went and he went until he couldn’t anymore. Wow, all of those thoughts sent me into a crash of sadness. I had a good cry, called a friend, and then made my way to work.
That’s grief. One minute, I was laughing over little mammals in the city and the next minute, I was torn up over the ache which cannot be filled. In my faith walk, I know that my God is always with me. Always. He’s in the laughter, the sadness, and every detail of my life. Over and over in scripture, gratitude is at the heart of the reframe and the ability to move into my continued purpose.
I must keep going. In my own city chick way, I have to lean into determination, too. I need to adjust to this new reality. I’m a writer who wears many hats just like you. We’re pulled and stretched in our own lives. Some of our circumstances hurt so much. In our brokenness, we can relate better to someone in our path that needs our touch and our understanding. For that purpose, I will engage in what life is left in me. Ann Voskamp talks about living in a way that is poured out. It’s more than a description of being a blessing to someone. It’s like an athlete who leaves every effort out on the field of play. Just like people who make a life in the hard wilderness for their family, I’ll continue making my way through my heartache, my wilderness. I want to make a difference where I am now and where I’m going.
MT Penny