Pines and finds

Monday, July 9, 2024

We wake slowly and quietly with birds chirping in the treetops.

Our first order of business is trimming the birches growing toward the cabin. The shop loans us their extendable saw. (Thank you!) 

From several sides, the brown stained siding and green roof almost make the cabin disappear. We've kept as much greenery as we can. The dappled shade from the trees cools the house without air-conditioning.

A call to Mom takes precedence. She is in continual pain, has trouble eating and drinking, and it feels like she's fading away. Her prayers and counsel remain powerful. My brother arranges the first phase of home care for her.

On a walk, I spot these cheerful wildflowers.

Beside the park bench, a children's ring (google-y eyes) waits for pickup.

On another lane, the decades-old firetruck waits. 

W's biggest chore this year is removing the creaks from the stairwell. He got partway there in the past days. Today he's happy to finish up. Top steps and bottom steps are on the agenda. He removes the wooden 2"X4" supports and replaces them with angle-irons. It's much better without the creaking of wood on wood. W protects the treads with a coat of water-based sealant.

The high schoolers arrive for their week of camping. They're noisy, finding their peer groups, and totally self-absorbed. It's more fun watching their social antics from a distance than it was making friendships happen as a teenager, that's for sure. Given the option, I'd never relive my teens, 20s, or 30s! Would you?

Two girls stroll by, never glancing in my direction or at the couple walking behind me. After living in a high-respect culture, it's interesting to watch American youngsters ignore everyone older than themselves. The parental cautions from childhood to adulthood about avoiding strangers isolate them from anyone they don't know well. I feel sorry for these kids.

Tuesday

Another slow-waking day, though this one starts at 6:00 a.m. I didn't measure the distance of the camp streets the last time I did them all. With W's gout, he hasn't been walking much, so I take my time to laze through the campground every day. The early morning sun glints off the river.

W's leaving to cabin to stroll to the wifi spot. He's taking my computer along when I reach the midway point of my walk: our cabin. I go along and catch up on the morning news. It's amazing how fast the trees have grown around the cabin ... and how tall the trees can get. The firs can reach 80-100 feet (25-30 meters).

When we laid the cabin foundations, the camp caretaker felled 3 huge firs with this comment: "Don't worry. If there's one thing Montana does well, it's this. We grow trees." He was right. We've kept every tree we could. This year, there's a fir spouting through the front cluster of birches. I debate whether to keep or cut it.

One of our challenges is caring for our parents from so far away. On this unexpected trip to the US, we blocked a day to drive to see them in Canada and come back the same night. That may have to expand as my mom is not doing well.

I spend a good part of the morning on the upper balcony. I remember a rocking chair under the cabin. W hauls in out, pokes the wicker back into place, and we clean the chrome and seat thoroughly before dragging the chair upstairs. The balcony is a comfy perch for reading.

I guess we did ok: here's the chair when it's new. We must have a rip-off. I find a second one, which we clean later on.

I've cooked more in 2 weeks at the cabin than in the months before in Bandung. We're almost through the leftovers and fresh produce in the fridge. W's happy: his low bid for a sleeper compartment on the Amtrak train is accepted. (He saves $400 over purchasing the seats outright.) So we'll lie flat overnight when we leave tomorrow.

I call Mom, who is doing better today. Then I call my 93-yr-old Uncle E, who lives in the middle of Canada. What a treasure he's been, praying for us through my lifetime. We pray for him each day, too. I call Mom with the update about him ... it's round and round keeping connected.

Wednesday

Time to clean up before we head back to the city. We walk the morning streets, greeting many volunteers who make the camp a safe and beautiful place. The echos of teen voices pierce through the trees from the breakfast line.

Room by room, the cabin is pulled into shape.

I haven't dusted the old wasps nests and the birch branches at the door - but most everything else is done. We pack up, haul the garbage away, and clean the appliances last.

We have supper with Gary and Philly, Paul and Kathy (K's famous pizza - YUM!) at the Rohde cabin before Gary takes us to the Whitefish station at 9:30pm. The train's running late due to speed restrictions in the overheated plains. They go 20-40mph so there are no sparks igniting the grass beside the tracks.

In the dark, W and I stroll around Whitefish for a half hour, admiring the stained glass windows at the Presbyterian church. The windows tell the Story and honor those who have lived well.

Thursday

Our train leaves at 3:30 am instead of 10:30 pm. W's  sleeper car lets us stretch out and sleep. We get the free breakfast in the dining car about 7:00 before I go back to sleep. At 9:30, the attendant knocks until I get up and insists she has "to make up the suite before Seattle." Ok ... except Seattle is 5-6 hours away. I really could have used more rest.

We cross ranch land where cattle graze in open fields

and find shade where they can.

Since we're 5 hours behind, the dining crew assembles a midday meal of leftover potatoes, gravy, and a bit of meat for "beef stew." We sit across from Mike and Gina at lunch, praying with them for their estranged son.

Pictures taken from the train windows have the glaze of faded old photos.

It's travel with no obligations = restful. "Would you get a sleeper again?" W asks. Yes, definitely. Being able to lie flat is a great blessing.

Read more:

*He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8 NIV

*Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.

By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.

By faith Abel brought God a better offering than Cain did. By faith he was commended as righteous, when God spoke well of his offerings. And by faith Abel still speaks, even though he is dead.

By faith Enoch was taken from this life, so that he did not experience death: “He could not be found, because God had taken him away.” For before he was taken, he was commended as one who pleased God. 

And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. Hebrews 11:1-6

ABC Prayer: Eternal Father, we admit that we cannot save ourselves. Help us to believe in your love and your provision of Jesus as our Savior and Lord. Then teach us to commit ourselves to following and obeying you as the ancient believers did. Thank you for paying the debt we could not pay and forgiving our sins completely. We honor and worship you today. Amen.