Thursday, 26 December 2013

I Miss You

Dear Africa,

It's been 4 months since I left you. At first I was happy to go and see my home in America. Yet lately I keep dreaming of you. I hear your children laughing and...I miss you.

I miss your color. Splashes of red, purple and gold captivate my memories and I smile.

I miss your music. The fast pace beat of the drum and the emotional rhythm with clapping hands and body fully given to melody. I miss you.

I miss your Children, those dark eyes looking up at mine so deep, so full. The beautiful smiles that make my heart embrace life....I will never recover from their looks. Oh Africa, I miss you.

I miss your crazy, unpredictable nature! I never know when you will surprise me, your personal, community orientated schedule. I miss you.

I miss your dirt, that blanket that covers almost everything and paints your world in red.

I miss your noise, full of languages and activity, mooing, baaing, and clucking and song.

I miss your people, those I have grown to love and care so deeply about.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I will never be the same because of you and I love you.

See you next week!

Because Jesus lives,



Sunday, 1 December 2013

It's not about the Bull it's about the horns, antlers or whatever.

The dress code in November is camouflage if you live in Plains Montana, coupled with a bright orange vest. In fact if you do not wear this uniform with pride you may get some disapproving looks. It is, after all hunting season!  Everyone knows that the size of the man or woman is shown by the size of the antlers on the animal you shot, killed, gutted and posted on Facebook. Oh, the majestic head of a glorious buck or bull, which if shot must be thrown in the back of your pickup truck and driven around town, tail gate down, antlers showing and tongue out for a minimum of three hours.

Now, I was raised a Montana girl, but sometimes I fail to understanding the obsession with hunting season. So I set myself to understand it this week, and this is just a few notes of my research.. 

There is something that comes over a Montana man during hunting season...I like to call it "That time of the year."  The man becomes highly emotional and sensitive.
If you sat in a little cafĂ© here in Plains long enough, you more than likely would see men walk in after a long day of hunting, all clad in their armor of camo and orange.  They find a group already sitting around the table. "Where you been hunting?" says the one man to the next, looking away as he takes a swig of his coffee.  "In the woods, you idiot!" says the other (either that or he tells a falsehood about where his favorite hunting spot is; there is a lot of heckling and lies among this crowd.)

Now if you was not informed proper (sorry; I can't help but add some redneck rhetoric), then you might think this was a cruel and unkind response, and that it was perfectly okay for one man to ask where the other was hunting, when in fact it was completely inappropriate!  Pretend you're a cook right now and someone just asked for your secret recipe! How do you feel? I mean, that's just rude!  

Remember the whole, "men get over emotional during this time of the year?"  Yeah, well, this also happens when another man gets a big buck while the other is still looking. Apparently, getting skunked is like dying an old maid...apparently it's sad. I was consoling a woman the other day with my new found knowledge, as she expressed concern that her son would be jealous over her other son's buck.  I told her that, "It's like a girl getting married, on one hand you are angry that the girl is married and you are not, but on the other hand you're rather happy that the girl is off the market." I told her, just tell him, "The woods are open my son and you still get to look for bigger and better bucks, while your brother has filled his tag and now he just has to sit at home and cut up meat!"

I was trying to follow a conversation with two hunters the other day who were pretending to be humble. They had measuring tape out and the antlers of the white tail bucks they had killed. They were slurring out numbers, "Ahhh it's just a 122 (I really can't remember but there was a lot of numbers.) "Yeah, he's not that big, but he's all right," he says as he can hardly lift the massive tangled rack!

"I shot a two point once..." I wanted to say that, but I think they would have called me a baby Bambi killer. Yes, people will laugh at you if you don't come home with a 4, 5 point or whatever.

Bottom line...I'm not a hunter...and I would just like to confess that, with only one day left for hunting season, I still don't really get it, but just like the movie "Bambi" I find it entertaining.