Saturday, February 4, 2012

Hand-Tooled Rustic Rawhide (Reflections on *50*)

  Yesterday, while sitting with good friends on a sunny front porch, I realized how far I've come on my journey. I looked across her prairie pasture and I could see clear to Waco. Seeing that distance, and how easy it was on my eyes, It hit me like a ton of lead- just how far I've come in my nearly 50 years... in my journey...on the road to wherever I'm going, looking back at where I've been.

  While sitting outside soaking up the warmth, a cold-front snuck up on us from behind and the temperature dropped. Clouds rolled in. The sky changed texture, and color. There were thunderheads behind little puffy cotton-boll-polka-dots in the sky. It was a myriad. Like God decided to break out his paintbrush just for us. It made me realize that life is so good at whatever phase and stage we are in. Those phases, like the clouds, change without warning to bring on something different, something drastic, or sometimes nothing but calm.

   Life is unpredictable, and I'm glad. Unpredictibility makes you light on your feet. You learn to become flexible and roll with the changes. You stop reacting and learn to adapt to the present and accept the past. Although I'm not as wild or stubborn as I used to be, I consider those attributes as part of the backdrop of who I am, and still reserve a little of that wild streak for a rainy day. It all helped to mold me. Maybe God used it despite me and my youthful arrogance?? In the end, I am pliable and functional just the way I am. Best of all; I am gratefully aware that my past is part of the road to here.

  Processing all this *past*...I feel a little older, but not worn out. Almost like I live inside a well worn pair of old boots. They are comfortable, and suitable for my every need. The dings and scars of self-induced drama, and defensive wounds have done nothing but add character and make the leather tougher, yet softer to the touch. Perhaps the sole (or soul) will need reattaching over time, but they are built for the long haul, the briar's, & the bull-nettle. At first glance you'd think all this abrasiveness would take away from the beauty of the hand-tooling? But nah, it adds to it. I guess I don't just wear the boots. I have become the boots? And thankfully, the boots fit fine.