What do I want?

Posted on November 15, 2014 by Wendy Kleker

WHAT DO I WANT?

“I love You, O Lord, my Strength.

The Lord is my Rock, my Fortress and my Deliverer. My God is my Rock in whom I take refuge. He is my Shield and the horn of my salvation, my Stronghold. I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise and I am saved.” Psalms 18:1-3

In my teens a long, long time ago, possibly millions and millions of years, I wanted nothing more than to stay a child. No, I didn’t want to be cool, or to fit in with the popular group, nothing like that; I wanted to stay young and carefree. I did not want to grow up. I only wanted to play with my best friends, two sisters who mostly wanted the same thing. Oh once in awhile we had this yearning deep inside to—to–do what? We weren’t sure. Try on the world, maybe. So we set out to get drunk on fermented apple cider. This after tasting their older brother’s homemade beer and thinking it was pretty good. I am sure the apple cider idea came from him and no, we didn’t get drunk only sick.

For the most part, we only wanted to pedal our bikes up and down the Talkeetna spur highway to the swimming holes and the creeks to catch the salmon during the run or to the berry patches. Or to ride horses in the power line or down the few side roads, for you see in Alaska there’s no riding or hiking cross country unless you first hack a trail through the brush. We gleefully spun our way over the snow on my Skidoo snow machine, two standing on back of the freight sled that was like a dog sled, laughing giggling and singing. Oh we loved singing in the crisp, sometimes very cold, winter air while we skimmed over the sparkly snow. Sometimes we sang songs we learned in youth group; sometimes they were songs we made up. Like to the tune of Delta Dawn, “Wendy Lynn, what’s that flower by your chin? Could it be a faded fireweed from days gone by? And did I hear you say Jim was a meeting you here today, to take you to his cabin by the lake.”

Once we picked and ate frozen, we hoped, fermented high bush cranberries that were clinging tenaciously to the bushes and thought we got tipsy. Now that I am old and wise, I think we were only drunk on silliness.

No, we three “Ice Girls” didn’t want to grow up, yet knew we would regardless so we threw ourselves with abandon into being just kids and having the most fun we could in the backwoods of Alaska. Such as racing our horses in a thunder storm or hanging by our toes in a huge windrow brush pile to reach hidden raspberries, or camping under the stars only to get rained upon and soaking wet. I learned in Alaska you don’t camp without a tent.

Once in awhile, however, we became restless, thought maybe we might want to some day find a good man, get married, maybe be a mom. Being pure craziness, those thoughts did not last long.

When seventeen loomed I fought adding another year to my life with all I had. Sixteen was plenty old enough but at seventeen, I might have some grown-up responsibilities and decisions and soon childhood would fly away.

Then I met Jim Sakaguchi. Big smile, gentle brown eyes, round laughing face. All thoughts of forever staying a kid vanished, much to my two friend’s dismay. After months of getting to know him by running a trapline with my dad and him, I began to have visions of walking through life side by side with this man, for no boy was he at age twenty three.

So now all of a sudden I wanted to grow up, learn to cook, much to my mom’s amazement, grocery shop and run a household. I wanted nothing more than to make Jim a loving wife in the wilds of Alaska. You can guess the rest; he swept me off my feet and took me to his cabin by the lake. I grew leaps and bounds away from my two best friends and even though we stayed in touch and spent much time together for many years, it was never the same.

Jim and me our wedding Oct 4, 1974 At Chulitna River Lodge. A story in itself

Jim and me our wedding Oct 4, 1974 At Chulitna River Lodge. A story in itself

For you see I wanted nothing more than to spend time with my new best friend, my Jim. We were foot loose and made our home anywhere we happened to be, the cabin on Ermine Lake, a pup tent in a rainy campground, a small camping trailer, a singlewide trailer in Talkeetna, then Colorado and finally Montana. With adventures all along the way where my desires changed from wanting a cozy twosome to desiring a child. Thus, Stephen came along in 1978, born in Palmer Alaska, four years after we were married. From dreaming of a new log house, to just wanting a happy safe home in our trailer on the mountain in Plains Montana.

sss10

Life. Funny how it changes, like a mountain river bending, turning, running smooth, then roiling, boiling over rocks and tumbling, falling, crashing. Funny how I can’t tell you what I want now without telling you what I wanted then. That’s because you can’t separate the waters of the past from the waters of the here and now, the river all flows together.

Back in my 30’s with a young son now in school, I wanted to be strong in body, physically fit, able to climb mountains and hunt all day long. Then get up the next morning and do it all again. I wanted to hear the bugle of a bull elk ringing on the clear crisp morning air. I wanted to smell the fir trees and the cedar as I sat in the grass on a mountain side. I wanted to crawl through the brush with the soft tones of cow elk talking in my ears. I wanted to gaze into the eyes of a spike bull and watch with heart-pounding, bated breath as a monster bull elk silently stalked closer and closer.

I wanted to watch the stars come out and the moon rise from a ridge top and the sun peek over the mountains in the silence of dawn. I wanted to hunker down in the cold predawn and listen to the silent forest come alive as light pushed back the darkness.

I wanted to shoot a buck every year and have elk meat in the freezer. I wanted to get one bull that was not a raghorn. Just one big bull in my life time.

I wanted to teach my son to hunt and sneak up on the long-eared deer so close we could almost touch them. I wanted to hunt all day with my husband, build a fire in the snow and fall asleep beside it after eating lunch.

I wanted to teach my son about Jesus being his Savior, his friend and his life guide. I wanted to enjoy my friends and love my husband and help my son experience the best of life.

The first time my life plummeted over a waterfall, I dove headfirst into a deep, dark pool that had no bottom and no light. Half my heart was ripped away when I lost my Jim. I was left in the darkness, gasping for breath, for joy, for life. I pretty much wanted to die, but had to live for my son. I wanted nothing more than my husband by my side, and was lost wondering in the wilderness when he was not.

Then God made His glorious presence known to me. I became aware in a real way of not only a Father figure to serve, but of a loving Best Friend who walked beside me all the time. Jesus showed me Himself and His amazing, unending love. For me!

Then all I wanted was to love Him. To stay close to Him and to serve Him. I wanted Jesus pure and simple. Nothing more. Nothing less. However, God desired for me a bit more. He brought me out of the wilderness into the Promised Land. He blessed me with a new life by giving me a new husband. A beautiful, loving man, John Kleker who didn’t give up when friendship was all I would accept.

Life smoothed out then with a few bumps and bangs over the rapids that came now and again and I wanted nothing more than to experience to the fullest this new life God had given me with my husband and my son. We weren’t footloose but I found John to be a bit nomadic and an adventurer so I followed him from one adventure to another where ever he went. From Plains to a ranch in Trego, to working on a big ranch near Livingston, to working and going to diesel mechanic school in Havre, to Chinook and finally to Sentinel Butte, North Dakota. Don’t never say never! North Dakota was one place I never wanted to live! Now I don’t ever want to leave.

The next time life plunged over a waterfall I tumbled and crashed and bounced off rocks to land battered and beaten far, far below. That’s when I lost my son.

I wanted to go to Glory then, but God showed me His brilliant Presence. Jesus Christ shining white and bright stood beside me and held me in His hands. I wanted then only to praise Him and thank Him, for even though the way was hard, filled with grief and much pain, I found the Solid Rock.

I found refuge under His wings. I learned that no matter what happens that Rock doesn’t move. No matter how bad the storm rages, His wings cover me and He holds me up with His righteous right hand.

He is my shelter, my high tower, my fortress. I want nothing more than to trust Him with all of my being, no matter what may come, for my every need. To lay my burdens at His feet, to take His hand, to gaze into His eyes and feel His peace and be filled with His indescribable joy. Every day I want to bask in His Glorious presence and to smile at the sound of His name. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

I also want to love my husband beyond all human capability and to shower him with affection and respect. I want to teach my Grandkids to love God, to follow God no matter the cost and to find His presence in their lives at all times. I want to ride a horse when I’m 79. (if I’m still on earth) I want to spoil my dog and have her near me all the time; I want to spend time with my friends and always be there when they have a need. I want to give back to my church family and my friends the love, acceptance and support they have given me.

I want to fly! I’m looking forward to a Glorious Heaven and I can’t wait to see my son and other loved ones who have begun their lives in Eternity.

I want beyond all else to see my Redeemer’s face and touch his nail torn hands.

He is my Rock! I want nothing more than to stand on the Rock forever and ever!

“One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple. For in the day of trouble He will keep me safe in His dwelling. He will hide me in the shelter of His tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.” Psalms 27:4-5

Posted in Faith, He is my refuge, He is my Rock, the presence of God | Tagged , , , , , | 5 Comments

THE ITTY BITTY CAT THAT COULD

Posted on September 23, 2014 by Wendy Kleker
Preparing our trailer spot

Preparing our trailer spot

THE ITTY BITTY CAT THAT COULD
“Now listen you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money. Why you do not even know what will happen tomorrow! What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while then vanishes.” James 4:13-14

Do I try to make things fit into my plans? Am I so preoccupied with planning that I can’t hear God’s voice? Does my planning become controlling?

Oh yeah, sometimes. I used to be terrible about this. I was a slave to my plans. Once plans were laid that was it, I didn’t want them to waver or change an inch. If they did I was one upset puppy!

Did I rejoice in my plans? I did rely on them. I left God out, but my plans were center stage. Oh, I would ask God to bless my plans. “This is how it needs to go, Lord, please make it work.”

I had a huge learning curve on this. What I mean is, it was a long slow turn till I changed, even a little, with this one. One of my first and most impressionable lessons was when Jim, my late husband, and I moved our single wide house trailer to my dad’s property in Plains Montana.

It was going to be an easy move. Nothing like the move of 300 miles or so from Belgrade Montana to Plains where our 14X70 foot home was pulled up the mountain on a windy, narrow road through snow-laden trees and left in the middle of the county road, blocking the school bus and other rigs because the professional mover could not or would not back it into the tiny, slippery space between the pines. Nothing like running with a friend to round up a caterpillar a couple of miles away to chug over and push the trailer house, with the blade, no less, off the road and back into the space. No nothing like that. Only a few miles across the valley and up into gentle hills to a leveled out large space that we had prepared on my dad’s property. This move three years later would be an easy one. After all we had it all planned out carefully.

This is how it would go–first we would prepare the inside of the trailer to move, packing all breakables, stabilizing anything that might move, wall hangings would be put on the floor, and taping all cupboards closed. The skirting would be taken off, all pipes, drains and electrical hookups would be unhooked. The professional mover would simply hook up, pull it out of the spot onto the paved county road, easy as pie, pull it across the valley, through Plains, and up the wide county road to Dads driveway. The mover had accessed the driveway and though it was a bit of a climb he said it would be no problem, his truck was powerful and had 4-wheel drive so would get traction on the gavel. It was summer, not winter, no slick roads, the spot was large, we could turn the trailer around so the living room windows would face the view of the valley, we had a mover who was used to mountain roads and knew where he was going, piece of cake, we had our bases covered. Plans were laid. There would be no deviating from them.

We prayed all would go smooth and as planned. My mom prayed, I’m not sure what exactly she prayed but she always prayed. She told me the day before the move, “Don’t worry, Wendy, I’m praying. It will be fine.”

Everything went as planned and as smooth as a puppies tummy, at first. I can’t say I didn’t worry and I was praying like crazy when I watched the tail end of my home going up that steep driveway. My heart was indeed in my throat when the semi-truck wheels spun in the gravel and the long trailer slid back a ways.
“Is he going to make it?” Stephen, in the car beside me, asked.
“Oh yeah,” I said when the big tires caught and dug in to pull the heavy trailer up the steep incline, “he said it was a piece of cake.”

On up the driveway he crawled, but then the trailer in front of us stopped. And didn’t go on. When the driver saw the even steeper incline ahead of him, a way that had been recently bladed and cleared through the timber with a cat since the last turn in the existing drive was too tight, he shook his head. There was no way, he said, that his truck could pull that trailer up that steep incline over the soft dirt. He just couldn’t do it. So we blocked and secured the trailer on the relatively level part of the driveway. He unhooked his powerful, 4-wheel drive semi-truck and drove around the circle drive Dad had in front of his house and left.

Jim, Stephen and I just stood there staring dumbfounded at our home, a hundred and fifty yards from where it was supposed to be, and my dad shook his head.
“Guess you could just leave it there,” he said.

Mom? She just prayed. Jim said we’d figure something out, but it was getting dark so we would sleep there for the night.

Funny thing waking up in the morning in your house with different scenery out your window. Funnier still if it’s scenery half way up your driveway. Better than semi-trucks out your window I guess. When we moved the trailer from Belgrade to Plains we stayed the night in Missoula. Not having much money the three of us slept in the trailer on our own beds in a truck stop, sandwiched between semi-trucks hauling who knows what. It was the middle of winter and we had no heat except for the wood stove, so we stoked up a fire. No problem, right, so what if a bit of smoke went out the chimney. The next morning I peeked out the blinds and saw a gas truck right beside us. So glad that it was just smoke going out the chimney!

So anyway the first order of the day was to find someone to move our house on up to the spot we had taken such care and time to prepare. Just a little wrinkle in our plans. I didn’t like it, was a bit stressed, but Jim kept saying we would figure something out. Someone, somewhere would be able to get the trailer up that hill. Mom said she was praying. I said that’s good. And ran around like a chicken with my head cut off when a friend brought up a small cat and said, he could pull that trailer up the hill, no problem!

The itty bitty cat that could, puffed and smoked, and chugged, and dug it’s tracks and moved the trailer—-not an inch. The problem was, our friend said, the cat’s hitch wasn’t high enough to lift the trailer frame off the ground, so the brave little cat was trying to drag the big heavy trailer up that hill. So the cat that couldn’t left, but we were not defeated.

We did, however, stay another night on the driveway. By then our plans had all flown out the window and we were flying by the seat of our pants. So to speak. More like dragging in the dirt. Mom was still praying and I was beginning to join her in earnest.
“Lord, please get our home up where it belongs. I really don’t care how You do it. Just, please, do it. Cuz we can’t.”

So we found another friend with an old boom truck with a winch in the back that could lift the hitch high enough to get the front of the trailer off the ground. This would work! They hooked the hitch of the trailer to the boom hook and hoisted away. Bang! The trailer fell off the hook and crashed to the ground.

I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t yell something I shouldn’t. They secured it better and tried again. This time it held, but the old boom truck that was determined, roared and spun and pulled and moved the trailer a few feet. The steep incline loomed ahead and the little truck lurched to a halt. Our friend said maybe if he got a run at the hill he might make it.
“Might!” I squeaked. “What happens if you don’t?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Who knew. No one had ever tried pulling a heavy (how much do they weigh?) 70 foot house trailer up a 75 percent grade with a small, older model boom truck before.
“Oh God! This was NOT IN THE PLANS!” I silently cried, “What do we do?”
Dad just shook his head. Mom was still praying.

The guys came up with the idea to get the itty bitty cat back to kinda help push the trailer while the old boom truck pulled. Oh boy, now THAT sounded like a good plan!

So one more night, what was that, three? was spent on the driveway. The cat still hadn’t shown up (he took off like a shot when I let him out the first night) the dog was beginning to adjust to the new place and Stephen caught the bus at the new stop that morning. Mom said she was praying. Jim, who missed a day falling trees, did some sweet talking to our friend with the cat (-a-pillar) and I was beseeching my Lord on my knees. “Oh God we need You. Please, please help us! Lift that trailer up and put it where You want it to be.”

The old boom truck arrived, the itty bitty cat came, today was the day. It was do or die. Get it up to the spot or live in the driveway.

The first order of things was to have the cat push the trailer back down the driveway a few feet so the boom truck could get a run at the hill. So the itty bitty cat that could, chugged and smoked and dug it’s tracks in and pushed the trailer ten feet or so down the hill. Yea! The cat that could DID!

Then they hooked the old boom truck, that was determined, to the trailer hitch being careful NOT to drop it this time, and the cat was positioned behind the trailer with blade against the frame. Now the trick, the truck driver said, was for the little cat to keep up with the trailer since he was going to goose the old truck as fast as it would go to get up that darn hill!

Oh my gosh! I asked Jim if this was a good idea and he asked me if I had a better one. Pray! I said. He agreed. Mom was praying. “Wendy!” She yelled as I stood there with my hands covering my face. “Pray!”

Oh yeah, by this time I was praying. Forget the plans, forget our own self sufficiency, forget trusting in trucks and cats and preparation. Forget all of that! It was God, our Heavenly Father and only God who could keep my home from crashing into the trees! And put it somewhere. Anywhere fairly level, would do!

Well the ancient boom truck roared. I had to look. Tires spun, gravel flew, the trailer jerked forward. The truck that was determined flew up the hill, pulling that big ole trailer behind.

The itty bitty cat that could, well it chugged and smoked and dug it’s tracks in, but it couldn’t keep up. The old truck that was determined, roared and spun and tried it’s best, but it’s best was not enough. Half way up the hill it died. Now the cat that could was supposed to be pushing, but it was fifty feet behind.

Seventy feet of heavy house trailer rolled backwards down that steep incline. Right at the itty bitty cat. And wow did that cat look little! The friend on the cat, whose eyes were as big as saucers, envisioned the cat busting right through the back wall of the trailer. But he was good. He adjusted the blade just right. The trailer hit with a bang and a great shudder, but the blade was on the frame and it held. The itty bitty cat that could did!

Or was that God who could? Was it God who adjusted that blade just right? I’ll give you a good ole, North Dakota “You betcha!” for that! There were angels standing back there who caught that trailer with their hands. No doubt!

The old boom truck roared and spun and pulled, the itty bitty cat chugged and smoked and dug and up the hill they went. Together! I could swear I saw those angels pushing that little cat and pulling the old truck. Right to the top they went. Right to the level spot we had prepared so carefully. And stopped.

“Praise the Lord!” Mom yelled over the roar and the chug! The friend on the cat pumped his fists and pointed to the sky and the truck driver honked his horn. Dad nodded his head and grinned. I ran up that hill and danced around my home, yelling, “Thank you Jesus!”

Jim stood still and bowed his head.

“Is that good enough?” the truck driver asked. We all looked. The back of the trailer was hanging a bit over the hill, but the tires were on level ground. It wasn’t turned the way we planned, but it was there! Good view of the trees from the living room window and a view of the valley out the bedroom.

“Good enough.” Jim said. And that was that. Except it’s not the end of the story.

A few weeks later the power company came out to hook up the electricity. Things move a bit slow in Plains Montana, but we were fine with an outhouse, packing water and using lanterns. Been there done that before. The propane was hooked up for the stove so we could cook.

That night after the power was hooked up we turned on the lights in the living room and the lights in the kitchen went on too. In fact all the lights in the trailer went on. Even when the switches were off the lights glowed softly. Weird, strange. Jim went out to check the box. Oh I might add it rained after we got the trailer moved so the ground was wet. When Jim reached up to open the door on the box, he had a strong feeling not to touch it. So strong, he dropped his arm.

He called a friend who was a retired electrician and he came out and checked the power coming into the house. I can’t remember the numbers but it was way more power, like double, running through the house then it should be. He told us not to touch anything and we called the power company who came right out and turned off the power. Come to find out they had hooked it up wrong to the box. They said if Jim would have touched that box he would have been fried, especially with the wet ground.

I realized every last thing we planned, that I had counted on happening, did not happen. Not the way I figured it would. That’s when I knew my plans are nothing. I am just a vapor that is here and gone. I am nothing. God is everything!

He protected my home. He kept my husband from harm. He orchestrated every crazy move, every winding turn. My Heavenly Father, the Creator, moved that trailer, not me, not my plans, but His hands carried it and set it in place, backwards yes, but there nevertheless.

Do I rejoice in my presumptions? Sometimes still, but after more lessons, not so much. Do I trust my plans? Not on your life! I have found my plans mean very little. It is not wrong to plan. Planning is necessary, planning is natural, planning is okay.

“The preparations of the heart belong to a man.” Preparations, plans, dreams, hopes belong in my heart, they are normal.

“But the answer of the tongue is from the Lord.” I can plan but the Lord has the answers. He knows the way I need to go.

“Roll your works onto the Lord and Your thoughts will be established.” Pr. 16:1-3 Give Him my plans, my doings, my life and my thoughts will be made steady, inline, not wavering. The Amplified Bible says, “He will cause your thoughts to be agreeable to His will.”

Planning is okay but I need to always put God in the plan. Plan. Roll it on Him. Leave it. Know He is God.

“Instead you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will we will live and do this or that.’ As it is you boast in your presumptions and your self-conceit. All such boasting is wrong.”
King James says, “But now ye rejoice in your boastings. Such rejoicing is evil.” James 4:15-16

Lord help me not to rejoice in my plans, not to trust my presumptions but to always trust You and You alone.

Mom and Stephen at Mom and Dad's spot

Mom and Stephen at Mom and Dad’s spot

Moving our trailer

Moving our trailer

View of Mt. Baldy from the property

View of Mt. Baldy from the property

Posted in Don't trust my plans, God in my Plans, Moving a trailer house, Planning, Trusting God | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Hunting Camp, Dudes, and Horses 5

Posted on September 4, 2014 by Wendy Kleker

THE LION PROWLS

                                        Cache crk 8

            I hunkered down in the tall grass and put the cow call to my lips. “Yeeow!” The talk of a cow elk sounded in the evening stillness. It was bow season and I was in the rugged Montana Bitterroot mountains with a hunter who was 40 feet up the open slope from me. It seemed that year the bulls were not anxious to fight. Bugling only made them skittish, causing them to sneak away after an answering bugle or two, so the idea was to entice a bull, hopefully a big herd bull, to the new cows on the mountain.

            I made a few more calls, making them sound like different cows and leaned on my pack staying down in the grass. Suddenly, near me, I saw movement in the grass and found myself staring into the eyes of a cat.

            A tawny mountain lion with belly to the ground, stared back. He was only six feet from me and he was in full stalk. At first it didn’t dawn on me that one leap and he would be on me, I only saw the beauty and wonder of one of God’s most awesome creatures. He was the essence of all that is wild, his muscles taught and still, his eyes intense and focused. On me.

            I sat up. He sat up. Curiosity shone in the golden depths of his round eyes. My mind could hardly take in the wonder of being so near to this absolutely wild, yet beautiful creature. Then he tilted his head, the look in his eyes changing to interest. Intense interest. In me. As a possible meal. There was no doubt, I saw it plainly in his eyes.

            I remembered I had no weapon.

            “Mountain lion!” I said in what I thought was a loud voice. There was no sound from up the slope. No grass rustling to indicate the hunter was moving my way, bringing his bow and arrows to my rescue.

            The lion moved not a muscle. His eyes only intensifying all that wild energy. On me. Lying there in the grass sounding like an elk, possibly a calf elk, which would be this cat’s choice prey. Like a t-bone steak, just sitting on the grill.

            So do something.

            Standing up to make myself bigger than the cat, I yelled, “Get out of here!” And waved my arms.

            The young mountain lion did a back flip and bounded away.

            My legs turned to jello. Sitting down, I looked up the slope. Where had my mighty hunter gone with his pointed sticks?

            “Did you see that?” I asked. I heard laughter.

            Laughter? Amazement, even hiding under a bush, I could understand. But laughing?

            “Where were you?” I yelled. Well, maybe said breathlessly.

            “What was that?” He chocked out between chuckles as he crab walked towards me.

            “A mountain lion!” I exclaimed. “You mean you didn’t see it?”

            “No, all I could see was your face,” he collapsed on the ground beside me giving in to another fit of hilarity. I didn’t quite see the humor. “And you should have seen your expression! I knew something amazing was there, but didn’t know if it was the biggest bull you ever saw or what.” And no he hadn’t heard what I thought was a loud voice.

            The light was starting to fade so we decided to give it one more try for an elk. Silly us not to realize any decent elk would be smarter than we were staying away from the vicinity of a prowling mountain lion. Gingerly, I cow talked and waited on the alert. This time having snagged one of the hunter’s arrows which I clasped tightly in my hand.

            After sitting there maybe five minutes, an eerie, spine tingling scream split the evening stillness. Followed by snarls and growls and more hair raising screams. Definitely the sounds of a very put out cat. The heart pounding noise went on for several minutes and the hunter watched an angry mountain lion stalk across the open hillside above him with it’s tail whipping from side to side.

 

“The thief comes in order to steal and kill and destroy, but I have come that you may have life and have it to the full.” John 10:10

 

            Satan, our enemy is always on the prowl. Surely he knows he can not steal our salvation. Never can he pluck us from the Savior’s hand. We are God’s child, sealed forever for redemption. Nothing on earth nor any power of hell can separate us from the love of God. Yet the thief, our enemy, comes only for the purpose to steal to kill and to destroy. Why does he do that?

            First of all he hates God and he hates those who follow God, he’s out to get us in any way he can. Anything that brings glory to God, Satan will try to destroy. He steals our joy, robs our peace and strives to destroy and smash our faith. He wants us down, depressed, discouraged, afraid, angry and defeated.

            If we are God’s child Satan can not alter our minds or touch us- without God’s permission, but he can try to deceive us anyway possible. And he does. He buries us in guilt and suffocates us with shame. Like sheets of rain pouring down, he pounds doubt upon us, until our feeble faith is flooded with fear and despair.

            Satan will do anything to keep us from glorifying God with our lives. Lies will come in all forms, in half truths, in whispered thoughts, in well meaning advice, in TV, the internet, books, and the media. When we are deceived and defeated we do not glorify God. Folks look at us and see little difference from those who do not follow Jesus.

            Satan wants our works to be wheat, straw and stubble that will burn up in the difficulties of life. They will show for nothing in the scope of eternity. He does not want our lives to be silver, gold and bronze which do not burn, which will stand firm and strong in the fiery trials and will glorify God.

            The Bible says, “the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Withstand him.”

            Like the mountain lion prowling after the elk, we know our enemy comes only to rob, kill and destroy the abundant life Jesus gives us. Also we know that he is like a very hungry lion seeking to devour our lives. So how do we withstand him?

            The answer is in 1 Peter 5:6-9 Amplified. “Humble yourselves (demote, lower yourselves in your own estimation) under the mighty hand of God. Casting the whole of your care (all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all) on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully.

            Be well balanced (temperate, sober of mind), be vigilant and cautious at all times for the enemy of yours, the devil roams around like a lion roaring (in fierce hunger) seeking someone to seize upon and devour. Withstand him, be firm in the faith (against his onset–rooted established, strong, immovable and determined) knowing that the same sufferings are appointed to your brothers throughout the world.”

            First we need to put ourselves under God’s authority, make Him boss of our lives. Be willing to live our lives following His way. If we aren’t living the way God wants us to, if we are letting sin have control, then Satan already has a foothold and a way into our lives. We must stand on the firm foundation of Jesus Christ and His truth.

            Then at all times and especially when things get tough we need to cast our cares on Him. Give our worries into His hands. “Casting your WHOLE care on Him”. Everything, not just some things, not just the big things, but the little things and the everyday things. Every care, every fear, every worry, even if it seems impossible.

            We need to stop striving with our problems, instead give our troubles to the One Who Moves Mountains. Stop trying to figure it out when we can’t, even if it seems that’s what we need to do. Our minds tend to go down every trail, think every angle, wonder around every corner and boy can Satan run with that! The things he can put into our imaginations, all the what if’s and could be’s and probable’s. Talk about peace robbers and joy smashers! So give it to Him instead. And leave it in His mighty hands. Once and for all.

            Just as the calf elk sleeps peacefully, trusting his mama will watch and protect him, even when the lion prowls, we need to trust God.

            Here comes the hard part, the part that requires work.

            Be well balanced. Easy. Right? Self controlled is what the NIV says. Temperate, using good judgment, controlling ones emotions such as anger. Oh boy a hard one for me. Also other devastating emotions, such as attraction, lust, greed, jealousy, pride, fear and so on. Be alert, sober minded, vigilant, on the lookout for the enemy, this is war folks!

            What about grumbling and complaining? Another hard one in my world. Grumbling and complaining strangles the life out of joy. A negative attitude kills contentment. Immediately!   Don’t worry I do it plenty on my own, I don’t need Satan’s help on this one, but Satan would love to have us complaining and negative instead of praising and thanking God. Thanksgiving is the weapon for this one.

            Be cautious at all times. Whoa, that’s a good one nowadays when anything that feels good goes. Just because it looks good, seems good, or feels good doesn’t mean it is good in God’s eyes. We must remember Satan is the father of deception. He is prowling all the time looking for someone to devour, to kill to destroy. He may not be able to snatch us from our Savior’s hand, but he can destroy our lives, he can kill our testimonies, and he certainly can rob our abundant life.

            Just like that lion seeking an opportunity when the calf wonders away from it’s mama, Satan waits for us to step away from our Protector’s side so he can pounce.

          So withstand him! This is war! He is our enemy! Fight! Stand firm! No retreat! No surrender! No giving in! No giving up ground gained!

            Test everything with the word of God, sift all things with prayer, be filled with the Spirit and sensitive to His prompting.

            Trust God through all things. Trust and confidence in the Most High is our strength. Be rooted in Him. Be established. Be strong. Be immovable. Like a tree planted by the water, roots deep, we will not be moved. Be determined.

            “Come near to God and He will come near to you. Wash your hand you sinners and purify your hearts you double minded.” James 4:8 (NIV)

            Stay close to God where Satan is NOT. Walk His path always. Make sure there is no sin between you and your Father so Satan can not wedge between you. Know Him. Love Him. Listen for His voice. Follow Him.

            Do I want to give Satan the victory? No! I will not be deceived by my enemy. I will not give into the wiles of the devil.   I will lean on my Savior! I will let Him fight my battles! He is my Deliverer!   He has the Victory!

            “Resist the Devil and he will flee from you.” James 4:7

            Stand firm! Fight! Use your hooves, the truth, the blood of Jesus, whatever you have, but fight! Resist! At all costs! Your abundant life depends on it! Possibly your very life.

            I love this.

            “The sheep that are My own, hear and are listening to My voice. I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never lose it or perish throughout the ages. And no one is able to snatch them out of My hand.” John 10:27-28 (Amp.)

  

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Posted in Draw near to God, Evil forces, God Fights the battles, God has the victory, Mountain Lion encounter, Resist the Devil, Stand Firm | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

ABUNDANT LIVING 3

Posted on June 3, 2014 by Wendy Kleker

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Running

Running


LET BE
“Why are you in despair, oh my soul? And why are you disturbed within me?” Ps. 42:11 amp
Exactly how I feel.

“Why, God, do I feel so down?”

Cast down is how the NKJ puts it, or downcast as the NIV says. These all describe how I’m feeling this morning. Disturbed inside, anxious and a bit worried.

Yes worried. Fretting. What-if’s fill my mind and I am striving to get everything done. Household chores, mowing, yard work; I must get it all done before I leave for Billings to pick up the kids. Yet it rains, grass is too wet for mowing or trimming. I’m out of gas. I feel run down from a cold. Frustrations.

Where is my peace? What about those seeds of hope I planted? Where are the blooms of joy?

Seeds are planted but it takes the heat of the sun, moisture, the nutrients of the soil and time for them to germinate and grow. My thanksgiving planted the seeds of hope. Praise and continued thanks gives heat. Pouring my heart out to God, telling Him my troubles and my tears brings the water. Focusing on God’s presence, basking in His light, reading His words provides nutrition.

Sometimes it takes time for the seeds to germinate. If my heart is heavy and sad, if I’ve had a loss and am grieving, I need to wait.

“Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him.” Ps. 37:7

Rest, lean, depend. The amplified says “Be still and rest in the Lord. Wait for Him and patiently, lean yourself upon Him.” I love that! Lean yourself, your whole self, all your problems, all your anxieties, all your hurts, all your joys everything, completely upon Him.

Before that is says, “Commit your way to the Lord. (roll and repose each care of your load on Him) Trust (lean on, rely on, and be confident) in Him and He will bring it to pass.” v. 5 Oh this is good. Repose, “The act of resting or the state of being at rest. To lay, place, as the king reposes all his confidence in the prime minister”.

Do you see the picture? Jesus standing tall and strong, with arms wide open, saying, “Come to Me when you are weary and have a heavy load. Lay each care on Me, be confident that I can handle it. Lean yourself totally on Me, I will give you rest.”

All I have to do is lean on Him. Take my heavy load, my sack of worry, my pack of anxiety, my bucket of tears and place them at His feet. Then leaning heavily against His side, I look into His glorious, loving face.

He will take care of it. Whatever needs to be done, He’ll do it.

That’s what I have not been doing. I tried to give thanks, I praised Him, but the peace did not come. I’m trying to figure it out myself, instead of giving it to God. Instead of focusing on my God, I’m focusing on what needs to be done, on what could go wrong and on what might happen in the future. I’m trying to do it all and get everything in order. Have all my ducks in a line, you might say. And all the cute little ducklings are running all over the place, just having the time of their lives. But not doing what I think they should be doing.

“Let it be.” Comes a whisper in my soul.

“Hope in God!

“For I shall yet praise Him.” Ps. 42:11

Somewhere, sometime, the seeds of hope will germinate. I will feel the thanksgiving, see the blooms of joy. It takes time to germinate.

In the mean time, I need to lean on Jesus, to pour my heart out to Him. I run to His side. I give Him all my worries. I trust (lean on, rely on, be confident) in the Lord.

I hope, I trust in my God. And I praise Him.

I see now the rain is God’s way of stopping me. Of giving me the opportunity to rest, to read, to refuel. The cold has even slowed me down. See, when I’m hurting I have a tendency of running, keeping busy to keep my mind off my heart pain.

Today God said, “Just let it be. Be still. Recognize who I am. For I am your refuge, your High Tower, your Stronghold. Come to Me.”

The mowing does not have to be done, the laundry will be there next week, everything will work out, it always does, the problems I foresee in the future probably won’t actually be there. It’s a choice I have every minute of every day. Do I stand straining, and struggling under the heavy load? Or do I drop it at the feet of Jesus?

I run to my High Tower. A place where I can lean heavily against my Savior’s side and let be. And find rest.

“Let be and be still. Know (recognize understand) I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth.
The Lord of hosts is with us the God of Jacob is our refuge (our High Tower and Stronghold.)” Ps. 46:10-11 amp

High Tower

High Tower


Refuge

Refuge


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REST

Posted in Comfort, Encouragement, Letting go, No Worry!, Seed of Hope, Thanksgiving, Trusting God | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

ABUNDANT LIVING 2

Posted on May 27, 2014 by Wendy Kleker

Seeds of hope

Seeds of hope


Garden of hope

Garden of hope

SEEDS OF HOPE

“I will praise you, O Lord, with my whole heart. I will show forth, recount and tell aloud, all your marvelous works and wonderful deeds.” Ps. 9:1 Amp.

Seeds of hope even when I see nothing green. Even though the seeds are small, dry, hard, I hope for grand things. I envision green plants, huge and prolific with ripe fruit of tomatoes, peppers, corn, hanging on the vine. I can taste it.

My hand sprinkles the seeds in the soil and tosses dirt to cover them. The soil keeps the seeds safe from the birds and cold. I trust the sun and the rain to nourish and grow my seeds of springtime hope.

Sowing seeds of hope. Thanksgiving. Every day, all the time, in everything. Isn’t that what thanksgiving is? Seeds of hope? Especially when I don’t see a green thing. Nothing good in a situation. Dry, dusty soil. Pain at every turn. Thanksgiving then is pure hope.

Maybe it’s not a great catastrophe, but I wake up feeling sore from riding, a headache from too much sun. Or maybe the heat in the afternoon is humid and stifling and I must work till sweat is running and dirt sticks. Even though the sun is shinning, the world looks gray today. Ever been there?

Not a green thing in sight. No bright flowers blooming. So what do I do? Grumble? Complain? Growl? Most likely.

What if instead, I sowed some seeds? Seeds of hope. What if I thanked God? Thanked Him for the gorgeous morning after the storm, the great rain last night, the fantastic show of lights in last night’s storm. It was amazing! Continuous lightening like a million flashbulbs going off in the dark clouds. Wild, stupendous, wondrous! Definitely a God show.

I have tons of things to be thankful for and as my mind fills with these—a wonderful ride yesterday, a great friend, a good horse, gorgeous country—I forget about the sore muscles, the heat and even the headache.

I see the wonder and the gifts. The joy my grumbling stomps under, bubbles to the surface. I see the wonderful creation and an even more amazing Creator. I see, I know, I feel the love of the High King of Heaven and earth in my soul.

I see sprouts. With watering of praise and sprinkles of prayer and nourishment of trust in the King of Kings to handle all my cares, I see plants flourishing.

Green, vibrant plants of peace. Alive, delicious fruits of joy. Hope blooming with vibrant flowers. All from tiny seeds.
Thanksgiving.
Seeds of hope.

“I will rejoice in You and be in high spirits! I will sing praise to Your name, O Most High!” Ps. 9:2 Amp.

Last year's garden

Last year’s garden


Hoped for Garden
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Blooms

Blooms


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Ride in the badlands

Ride in the badlands

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Posted in Encouragement, Garden of hope, Seed of Hope, Sowing, Thanksgiving, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Abundant Living 1

Posted on May 19, 2014 by Wendy Kleker

Just Starlings

Just Starlings


Sacrifice of Thanksgiving

“The thief does not come except to steal, kill and destroy. I have come that you might have life and that you may have it more abundantly.” John 10:10

I have learned, I think, about the sacrifice of thanksgiving. About giving thanks when I feel least thankful. When I have every reason to NOT feel thankful.

It could be the world is crashing around me, pain rips my heart, my knees buckle, I can barely breath from the grief that grips my soul. Or maybe life is hard at the moment, full of physical pain, exhaustion rules my body, dragging my feet when I want so much to feel the vigor of youth. It might be the loss of a dream, or a job, or a loved pet. Whatever the situation I know I have every right to not be thankful.

Yet in the worst of times, I have learned to whisper, “Thank You Jesus.” I know the peace it brings, the comfort to my hurting heart. I know the strength in my spirit and the contentment even though the circumstances are bleak. I know the supernatural joy that come when I give Jesus my sacrifice of Praise.

Thanking Him in the best of times is easy, that I learned a long time ago. Now, I am reading that thanksgiving is the key to living victoriously. Yes, when life is hard and when life is super good, but what about every day? Every minute, giving thanks in the small frustrations of daily chores? How about when I’m grumpy or in a tizzy because I’m rushed and I hate to be rushed?

Tonight I am doing dishes. I hate doing dishes. I have no dishwasher, don’t want a dish washer then I would have to fill it and empty it. So I do dishes every day. Not my favorite chore so I leave them until it’s almost time for supper, almost time for John to be home. So now, I’m in a rush, which I hate, doing the thing I like least to do.

I grouse. I grumble. I complain. I throw things around. Something spills, or breaks, and I’m madder yet. OR is that more mad. Angry is the word. My blood pressure surely goes up along with my voice. My dogs hide. I slam things.

Suddenly in mid-slam, I stop. Wait a minute!

At this moment, at this time, I’m not living a very abundant life.

Sure, I was awhile ago when walking up on my hills. I was thanking God and praising His name, but right now, as I’m stomping and grumping and sling dishes around, I’m not living a fulfilled life.

“The thief comes to steal—” yeah, you betcha, steal my joy!
“and to kill—” sure, kill my contentment.
“and to destroy—” yep, that’s right, destroy my peace.

“The enemy has you right where he wants you.”

I think about that. Oh yeah, Satan wants me fuming and mad, stomping and yelling. Surely NOT looking at Jesus, and absolutely NOT walking close by His side, and for sure NOT thanking Him.

Do I want to be there? Where Satan wants me to be? Absolutely NOT!

I just read in Ann Voskamp’s book “One Thousand Gifts” that “thanksgiving is necessary to live the well, whole, fullest life.” Didn’t I already know that? Isn’t that what I was doing when on my walk, sitting on top of that hill thanking and praising Him?

“Sure, but that’s not what you are doing now.”

So I’m supposed to thank You now when I’m doing dishes?

“Especially now.”

I am still for a long time.

Can I thank Him now when I’m grumpy and out of sorts? Do I want to thank Him now? No!

“A sacrifice of thanksgiving.”

So—not just when tragedy strikes and hardships come, am I to give that sacrifice. Not just when I’m doing what I enjoy, like walking on my hills, am I to thank Him, but in the every day drudgery. When I’m doing chores, I really don’t want to be doing, when I’m cranky, grumpy and angry, especially when I’m angry.

Okay, I don’t feel like it, but I’ll do it. I look out the window and see a bunch of black birds hoping around on the freshly mowed grass.
“Thank You Jesus for the birds They’re just starlings, but the inky black against the green grass is pretty. They’re just starlings, but they’re Your creation and You care where they make their nests and when one falls, You know. I’m just a grumpy woman washing dirty dishes.

Thank You for caring for me more.

Thank You the birds are here and it’s finally spring. Thank You the grass is so fantastically green. Thank You I mowed today. Thank You the sun was shinning. Thank You it was cool and breezy not hot.”

Once started my words snowball. Thanksgiving pours from my mouth. And my soul. My eyes taking in the wonders of the world outside my window. Thanksgiving washing my heart as my hands wash the hated dishes.

I wash the last fork, amazed the dishes are done. Gone is the rushed feeling, the grumpiness, peace floods my soul once again.

My eyes raise to the sky. Sun rays bursting out, slicing through the dark clouds. Dazzling light blinding my eyes. Brilliant sun shinning through sheer clouds. Light shining forth in darkness. Like my heart where once again joy reigns.
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Jesus says, “I came to give you life, not just life, but life in abundance, to the full, joy overflowing, victorious life, laced with peace, every day, every minute, in every circumstance.”

Abundant life through thanksgiving, even in the little things.

Posted in Encouragement, Joy in pain, Peace, Sacrifice of thanksgiving, Thanksgiving, Thief | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

HOPE VISITED

Posted on April 17, 2014 by Wendy Kleker

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THE DAY HOPE DIES
The day grows dark. The sun is hidden. The earth trembles. Satan laughs. All of Heaven cries. A few grieve at the foot of a crude cross. A mother lies sobbing in the dirt. The Prince of Peace, the King of Heaven, the very Son of God hangs in agony on the cross. The Father has forsaken His Son.
Jesus lifts His bloody head, “It is done” He whispers. “Into thy hands, Father, I come.”
The ground heaves. The sky is dark. The wind rages. The dead are awakened. Satan pumps his fist! The temple curtain, separating man from God is torn in two. The angels weep. A mother wails at the foot of the cross where her Son’s body hangs limp.
It is done! The Bright Morning Star is dead! The Light of the universe is snuffed out. All hope has fled. Hope is gone. Hope lies dead in a tomb closed by a sealed rock.

“My soul waits silently for God alone For my expectation is from Him. He only is my Rock and my Salvation. He is my Defense. I shall not be moved.” Ps. 62:5-6

The Light comes

The Light comes


THE DAWN OF HOPE
In the stillness of the dawn, the dew drips quietly off the plants. The leaves tremble slightly as the sky brightens. Nothing else moves, there is not even a bird song to welcome this dawn of the ages.
Suddenly a grating sound breaks the quietness. The great stone sealing the tomb of Jesus jerks. With a great rumble, it begins to slowly roll away. The soldiers sitting near by spring to their feet and stare with mouths open as the huge rock rolls to the side revealing the black opening of the tomb.
Bright light streams from inside the cave. A form fills the opening. Blinding light surrounds the form in a flowing robe. The very form of the man who had been laid in the tomb three days before now stands in glimmering brightness, hands raised to the sky.
The soldiers drop in a dead faint. Just as the sun breaks over the edge of the earth, the Light of the World steps forward. Jesus the Son of God, IS RISEN! Hope lives!

“In God is my salvation and my glory. The Rock of my strength and refuge is in God.
Trust in Him at all times, you people. Pour out your heart before Him. God is a refuge for us.” Ps. 62:7-8
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HOPE VISITED
My Hope looks like the rising Son, brilliant light blazing across the dark sky of my soul. My Hope is leaning on Him alone, no other resources, no other person, no world wide web, no cell phone, nothing but the Rock of my salvation.
The High King of Heaven is my Defense, He is my expectation, He only is my Hope.
My Hope is a Rock. He is my refuge, a strong tower. My Hope is a world wide power, a universe wide strength. Instead of “googling”, I pour my heart out to the One who knows all things and controls all things. The One who created all things is my fortress. The One who holds the stars in place holds me in His arms.
He is the High King, the Prince of Heaven, the Ruler of All. The High Power is my Refuge and my Defense.
My Hope walks away from the tomb of death. My Hope knocks down the evil one. My Hope raises his hands to the sky and cries, “Victory!”
In Christ alone! He is my hope, nothing more, nothing less! In Christ alone I stand!
“On Christ the solid rock I stand. All other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand.”

“God is my Refuge and strength. An ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore I will not fear, even though the earth be removed and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea. Though the waters roar and are troubled, though the mountains shake with its swelling.
God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved. God shall help her just at the break of dawn.
Be still and know I am God. The Lord of all is with us! The God of Jacob is our Refuge!” Ps. 46:1-3, 5, 10, 11

Posted in Hope dawns, Hope in Christ alone, Jesus is Risen | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Hunting Camp, Dudes and Horses 4

Posted on March 14, 2014 by Wendy Kleker

Stephen on Rocket at home

Stephen on Rocket at home


LOST
My son, riding on his favorite horse Rocket, was first in line going up the trail to our hunting camp.
“Just let Rocket go, he knows the way.” I called as we started up the familiar trail. Behind Stephen was his buddy, Jeremy riding Blue, then came a friend of ours, *Kevin. I was on Sunny, leading a couple of pack horses. We were short one horse, so John had elected to walk with another hunter, *Tim who preferred not to ride. (*names are changed)

I was excited. Stephen and Jeremy were coming into camp to hunt for the weekend. How fun was that! A whole weekend to show my son the wonders of our hunting area, the joys of hunting camp, and hopefully an elk or deer along the way.

I watched Stephen ride up the trail; he sat sure and confident on the quick stepping Rocket. He had a natural seat, for not having ridden a lot, he rode very well. Since we had acquired the Morgan spitfire, Rocket, who lived up to his name, Stephen had been riding a lot more, bringing out Jeremy and other friends and putting them on our other horses, even though they had little experience at riding. They rode and raced all over our ridge at home. This was his first experience riding mountain trails and going to hunting camp.

“When we get to camp, I’ll have ridden 36 miles today,” I called to the guys ahead of me.

Stephen twisted in the saddle so he could look back, “Oh wow! Why that far? I thought camp was only 9 miles.”

“We made another trip today when we brought out the Smiths, then took a load of hay back in. Don’t worry it is only 9 miles, we should be there before dark.”

We rode into camp in twilight, unsaddled horses, watered them, tied them to high lines, fed hay and grain, then I lit the lanterns and the guys carried their gear into the hunter’s tent just as John and Tim arrived to help unload the panyards.

I had a quick meal planned of hamburgers grilled over the fire, so I asked Stephen to get a fire going, which he did quickly and proficiently, having practiced many times when we were camping or hunting. I prepared the rest of the simple meal, baked beans, fried potatoes, canned green beans, while the guys relaxed around the fire on stumps or the ground and John grilled burgers on a grate over the fire.

I believe the boys did the dishes, then there was more visiting and joking around the fire since the November night was balmy. Everyone was anticipating the next day’s hunt.

Honestly, I can’t remember what the hunting plans were exactly. Usually I stayed in camp while John took hunters out, unless I was guiding, but this was different. These were my boys! I’m sure, before dawn, we rode up the canyon to the fork, where it became two canyons, and left the horses, then John took two guys up one fork and I took two up another. Maybe Jeremy can help me on this, but I’m thinking John took the boys. But I do know that no one shot game.

When we met back at the fork and ate some lunch, it was decided that I should take the horses back and the guys would split up and hunt back to camp. Two on one side of the creek and three on the other, it was easy, follow the creek to camp.

About dusk as I was putting the finishing touches on dinner, John, Stephen and Jeremy trudged into camp. Soon after Tim showed up looking tired but happy. No legal game was spotted although Stephen and Jeremy had seen a monster moose, making their day.

Expecting Kevin to come soon, we waited supper. However, after awhile when he didn’t show up, the hungry crew dug in. John hung a lantern on a tree near the creek so Kevin could see it from the other side, where Tim said he last saw him. We finished eating and I started dishes, still no Kevin. We were beginning to get concerned.

It seemed it would be hard to get lost in the narrow canyon with the creek running by camp, but in the dark things can be very confusing. John yelled and shot a gun. We heard no answer. They built up the outside fire and yelled and shot some more.

“Okay,” I said a couple hours after dark, “I think it’s time to put Gabe on the trail.” Gabe was my bloodhound, a trained search dog. “The problem is we have to find the last place where you know he was. Can you find where you split up, Tim?”

Tim thought he could back track through the timber and find it, but in the dark with no snow, it would be tough. The night was chilly so we dressed to be out all night. John would stay in camp in case Kevin came back and would shoot twice in the air, so we would know. If we found him and needed horses we would shoot and head for the main trail.

Tim gave me a t-shirt Kevin had worn the day before and I put it in a plastic bag inside my backpack. Gabe wore the tracking harness, but I snapped the long lead to his collar. I would not snap it to the harness until the search was started, that was one of his cues to start tracking. He looked at me with big brown eyes, funny quirky Gabe, suddenly very serious and intent. He knew he was going to work.

Tim led us, winding through the trees awhile, and then walked to the creek, “I’m sure I crossed on this log, it wasn’t too far on the other side that we decided to split up. He wanted to stay closer to the canyon side, maybe go a bit up on it so he could see a ways down stream.” So we crossed the creek on the log, Gabe a bit wobbly but making it, then we walked up stream for a bit.

Flashing the light around, Tim stopped, “I’m not sure exactly where we separated,” he said, “but he was with me here, at this stump. I remember we sat down for awhile, then we decided to split, but we walked together for a short ways.”

“Okay, this will do,” Opening my backpack, I pulled out the t-shirt, “just come over here, Tim so Gabe can get a good whiff of you, so he won’t follow your scent.”

Tim rubbed Gabe’s ears as the big hound sniffed him. Then I held the t-shirt in front of Gabe and said, “smell”. The hound buried his nose in it, then flipped his long ears and whirled around. He was ready.

I snapped the long line onto his harness and said, “Go find”. Gabe’s head went down, his nose to the ground and he snuffled loudly from side to side. He smelled the stump all over, and then circled around a couple of times. Soon he straightened out and after a few steps, he shook all over. “Ok, Mom, I’ve got it!” was what he was saying.

Head down, nose skimming the ground, he zigzagged slightly to catch the edges of the scent path. The scent was fairly fresh so he moved at a good pace, pulling me along by the leash, Tim and the boys following. Suddenly he stopped, moved back and forth, then circled back. He had lost the trail, but it took only a minute or so to find where the turn had been made, then he lined out again. I knew that must have been where the two men split.

We were only on the trail for a little while when we heard the gun shots. Two of them, Kevin had made his way back to camp. Sure enough after we splashed across the ice cold creek, Gabe suddenly took off running right into the tent.

When I ducked under the flap, I saw Gabe leaning against Kevin, wagging his tail wildly, mouth open in a big grin he looked at me as if to say, “the lost is found, Mom!”

NEVER FORSAKEN
“Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep, which was lost!
I say to you that likewise there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine just persons who need no repentance.” Luke 15:6-7

Lost maybe but never forsaken. Jesus the Good Shepherd finds His lost sheep. Always. Even when those sheep wonder astray, even when they leave the shepherd’s fold and His care. Jesus will find them and rescue them, but never will He forsake them. Sometimes He has to carry them Home to Heaven, but they are not forsaken, they are not forgotten, they are found. They are rescued.

Stephen, my son, got lost in life. Somehow, he wondered off God’s path. He knew he was on the wrong trail, he knew he needed to come back to God’s way. And he tried, but somehow that downhill trail winding to the valley floor seemed far better than the uphill climb to God’s side. The song of a flowing stream and the allure of cool shade pulled him downward. So he spiraled down hill until he became entangled in the brambles.

I believe Stephen called his Savior’s name, that night two years ago. Jesus, the Shepherd, went searching for His lost sheep. Jesus did not forsake my son! The loving Shepherd wrapped his arms around Stephen and lifted him from the thorns. For some reason unknown to us here on earth, the Mighty Prince of Heaven carried my son Home.

It matters not why or what, it only matters that Stephen, though he may have been lost, is now found. He was never forsaken.

Two years to Stephen is not even a drop in Eternity. Right now, he runs in those green pastures of Heaven and walks beside the still, peaceful waters. He lives and breathes in a land where there is no more trouble, no trials or pain, surrounded by many loved ones, ever close to the Shepherds side. He is loved. He is free. He is perfect.

Are you lost? Caught in brambles, with no way out? Maybe you don’t know Jesus. Call on His name right now, ask Him to be your Savior, to forgive your sins, to lift you from the brambles and help you find your way on His path.

Maybe you know Jesus but you have lost your way. Like Stephen, you have taken the downhill path. Are you trapped by the thorns? Lost in the darkness? Cry out to your Shepherd. He will hear you. He always comes. He will lift you from the thickets and set you on your feet and help you climb.

Jesus never forsakes his own. Though we walk in the midst of trouble, He will revive us. He will stretch out His hand against that which holds us, fear, anger, bitterness, worry, sin. His right hand will save us. He perfects our lives. He knows us. His love endures forever! We are never forsaken. (from Ps. 138:3, 7, 8)

“The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble. And those who know Your name will put their trust in You. For You Lord have not forsaken those who seek You.” Ps. 9:1-10
Read Luke 15:1-10

Hunter's tent with fire outside

Hunter’s tent with fire outside


Gabe and little Happy (now 12) in Trego

Gabe and little Happy (now 12) in Trego


Stephen's first "good" buck. John is helping drag it out

Stephen’s first “good” buck. John is helping drag it out


Packing out Stephen's buck on Rocket. I'm riding Sunny

Packing out Stephen’s buck on Rocket. I’m riding Sunny

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TROUBLE ON THE TRAIL 2

Posted on February 19, 2014 by Wendy Kleker

Upper Cache Creek

Upper Cache Creek


TROUBLE ON THE TRAIL 2
Breaking Out
Tents were set up, numerous trips in and out from base camp packing hay, gear and food had been made uneventfully, the guest tent was ready, and the kitchen organized for efficiency. The only thing left to do before we rode down the next day to meet our first guests was to put up a horse corral.

We had gotten the idea from another outfitter and it sounded like a good one. You use light weight, very strong airplane cable and string it around trees in a circle to make a corral. Simple. Seemed a better idea than the highlines, which were ropes tied high between two trees with the horses tied to them.

One night a few days earlier, I was woke up by thumping on the hard ground from the horse quarters. Taking a flashlight and grabbing a coat I slipped my feet into boots and went out to investigate. It was pitch black under the trees and without the light I could see nothing. There was silence as I neared the horses, all I heard was labored breathing.

Talking softly, I shone the light around the area. Big eyes shone at me in the darkness. Eyes that were up high, too high to be a horse. Lion! My heart stopped! But if it was a lion it was endangering my horses, so I stepped forward, still talking, but now with a bit more authority.

Something was wrong, no sign of the horses being panicked as they should if a lion was after them. I could only hear the harsh breathing. My thought was the lion had one of the horses. But how did it get a 1,000 pound horse up a tree? I kept my light trained on the eyes, which were big, huge, not like a lion’s should be. Then I made out a head. Long, big ears pointing forward, white diamond on the wide forehead. Sunny!

“How did you get up there!” I cried, then swung the light down, there stood Rocket, who was half the weight of the big 16 hand gelding, with Sunny’s front legs over his back. Aww, no lion! What a relief!

Rocket groaned under the great weight and his breathing was loud in the still night. Why didn’t he move out from under Sunny? As I stepped up beside Rocket I saw the rope around his neck. Sunny’s lead rope circled it and was pulling tight making it difficult for Rocket to breath. My heart began pounding again! If Sunny should jump off of him and pull on the lead, Rocket would be strangled. What to do? Should I get John? I did not want to leave the horses that long. I knew Rocket would collapse any time, or Sunny would jump off. I had to act right now.

With my heart in my throat and prayers in my heart, I talked quietly to Sunny, “Easy boy, that’s my Sunshine, easy, easy. Stand.” I reached slowly up to the highline and grabbed the end of the quick release knot we tied and gently pulled on the taunt rope. The knot would not come undone it had been pulled too tight.

Okay another plan. Moving slowly and talking all the time, I reached up to Sunny’s halter, stretching on tip toes, “Come on Sunny put your head down, now, come on Sunshine.” He lowered his head and I grabbed the lead rope hook. Pulling his head down just a little bit lower, I was able to slip the hook off his halter.

Letting out a sigh, I unwound the rope from Rocket’s neck and led him slowly forward. With a heave, Sunny swiveled off Rocket. Both horses were unhurt, thanks to the Lord who watches over us all.

After that close call, the corral seemed a good idea, even though we made sure to tie the horses far enough apart they could not reach each other. So late afternoon found John and I constructing said corral. Just before dark we put all six horses in it and they were happy to have the freedom to move around the small enclosure.

In the middle of the night, I heard thunder. Wait a minute, thunder in November? I sat up, the thunder got closer, the ground shook. Suddenly I knew.

“The horses!” I yelled and jumped up from our mats on our sleeping tent floor and scrambled for my boots. “John, the horses are loose!”

“What?” he mumbled, not one to wake up fast or jump out of bed quickly.

Grabbing my flash light, I unzipped the tent flap, as I yelled over my shoulder, “horses loose!”

The dogs ran out of the tent with me as the thunder rolled by. Gabe, the bloodhound bayed and I yelled. “Whoa!” And whistled again and again.
John stood beside me and we listened to hoof beats thundering down the trail, for a long time. Then silence.

“Guess they’re not coming back,” John said, and I headed for the corral. “Where’re you going?” he asked.

“To see if they all left.”

“Oh,” John said, “they all left, count on it.”

Sure enough the next morning we surveyed the empty corral and saw the airplane cable lying on the ground. John shook his head, “Sure was a good idea. If it would’ve worked. Shoulda kept at least one horse tied up.”

“What are we going to do?” I wailed. Today was the day we were supposed to meet our guests, who were friends, and were driving to our base camp. Friends or not, this first time out I wanted the accommodations, the food and their hunting experience, which included riding, to be perfect.

We walk,” John calmly said as he turned back to the tent, “but first we eat breakfast.”

“But John, how are we going to get everyone back into camp with two saddles at camp?” I asked as we trudged down the trail, with lead ropes looped over our shoulders.

“We’ll go to plan B.”

“Which is?” I asked his back.

“Hmmm, I’ll come up with something.”

“They’ve probably gotten into the hay stack and eaten most of it.” I said, always the pessimist. “What are we going to do for hay later?

“IF they get into the hay, which they may not, we’ll just go to plan C.” Always the optimist is John.
Nine miles later, we trudged tiredly into base camp. And looked around. No horses anywhere. The hay bales were still stacked neatly with a blue tarp over them.

“Must’ve headed for home,” John said. “least they didn’t get into the hay.”
While he got the pickup, I looked for tracks and sure enough saw horse tracks heading down the road. Loading the dogs in the back of the pickup we headed out.

“Yep, Rocket probably herded them all towards home. Wonder how far they think they can get.” I said, home was many miles away with fences, an interstate and a big river in the way. We drove 8 miles or so, when we saw them feeding in a grassy meadow not far from the road. Grabbing grain pans and lead ropes we caught them up and I waited there with the horses safely tied while John went for the trailer.

I had it all figured out, we would have enough time to get back to base camp, get something to eat, have the horses saddled and ready when the guests arrived. Not too much lost. We should get back to camp in time for me to whip up the wonderful supper I had planned.

We were just getting ready to load the horses, when John spotted a flat tire on the trailer. The spare tire and jack were back at base camp, so back went the horse to the trees. John unhooked the trailer and once again I sat waiting with the dogs. At least I was getting some rest.

Before we could get the tire fixed, our guests came along. Oh bother! So much for my well laid plans. So much for everything being perfect. They pitched in to fix the tire and get the horses loaded, then later at base camp we all ate a late lunch.

“Plan B, is,” John said during lunch, “I’ll walk in leading the pack horses with the gear, there’s enough saddles for you three to ride.”

Slightly short of perfect, but it would work and I was glad I didn’t have to walk the nine miles back up that mountain.

Breaking Free
Lamentations 3:2-3, 8-9
“He has led me in darkness and made me walk in darkness and not in light. Surely He has turned His hand against me time and time again through out the day.
Even when I cry and shout He shuts out my prayer. He has blocked my ways with hewn stone. He has made my paths crooked.”

Surely we have all been in a situation when it seems God is far away. Where darkness shuts us in, where there is no light. When it seems things are so bad, the path so steep and rocky that God could not possibly be in this thing. Times when one thing after another goes wrong. Dark times, heavy times, grief ridden times. Or just plain difficult times.

Jeremiah was having such a time. He laments, “Like a bear lying in wait, or like a lion in hiding, He dragged me from the path and mangled me and left me without help.” (v 10-11) Maybe we can identify with the prophet, maybe we’ve been where it seems God would not trod. In fact it may seem He is against us, and has left us without help.

I know I have. I’ve had the lion of terrible trouble spring on my back without warning. The darkness closed in, the horror of losing my son was almost too much to bear. I was knocked flat, mauled and mangled until my life was left in tatters.

Yet I knew because of the former experience of losing my husband, I knew that God had not forsaken me. That He was there right beside me in the darkness holding my hand, arms wrapped around me, holding me, supporting me, loving me. I remembered, like Jeremiah, that His love is new every morning. His love never goes away, never gets old, never fails. It is renewed every single day! Even the black stormy days.

He is my portion. He is all I need to get through the storm. But not just to get through, to have joy and peace and contentment as I trust in Him. He is in control. He knows when the horses break out, when the sun stops shinning, when the path gets so steep I can not climb. He knows, He loves and He keeps me in the palm of His hand.

Not a thing comes my way that He does not know is coming and that He does not allow. He will not let my foot slip, He who watches over me will not slumber, in fact He who watches over me will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord will keep me from all harm. He will watch over my life. The Lord will indeed watch over my coming and my going both now and forever more. Even through eternity. (from Ps 121)

He is good to those who trust in Him, who rely on Him, who wait on Him. Some may say, “How can it be good when you lose your son? When his children will grow up without their father? When a young life was cut short?” I have no answers to that, but it’s not up to me to know the answers. God has the answers and the plans. His plans stand firm forever. It’s only up to me to trust. When it is darkest of all, that’s when we must trust most of all.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good. Try it, find out for yourself! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him, who hides under the shadow of His wings. Fear the Lord, you His saints, for those who respect and follow Him will lack nothing. The lions, that lion that jumped on my back, grows weak and hungry, but those who seek the Lord, in all things, at all times, for all purposes, will LACK NO GOOD THING. The strength, the comfort, the joy, the peace, is there when I need it. (from Ps. 35:8-10)

Lamentations says, “It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.” Wait, trust, rely for this too will pass. God always delivers. He always brings us through to the light. He allows us to have trials to grow, to be strengthened, to learn to lean on Him. There is always more we can learn, more ground we can gain in our climb to the sky.

Wait on Him. Praise Him through it. Thank Him for it. Rest in Him. Give it to Him. Sit quietly and believe He is God. He will handle it. He will see you through.

Break free of the darkness. Live in the sunshine.

“For men are not cast off by the Lord forever. Though He brings grief, He will show compassion, so great is His unfailing love! For He does not willingly bring affliction, or grief to the children of men.” Lam. 3:31-33

The Tree of Faith
Faith stands when fear would run.
Faith fights when common sense would hide.
Faith walks where understanding does not trod.
Faith takes the Saviors hand when blindness would fall.
Faith leans on the Redeemers side when weakness would stumble.
Faith rides in the Deliverer’s arms when helplessness would die.
Faith follows the Shepherd’s footprints when stubbornness would wonder astray.
Faith accepts the climb up the sheer cliff when doubt would surely turn away.
Faith lays it all on the Rock when pride would fall under the load.
Faith clings to the lifeline when the world turns upside down.
Faith trusts even when the darkness closes in.
Faith praises when grief bears down.
Faith waits when turmoil lays us flat.
Faith hopes when the storm assaults.
Faith walks the path that can not be seen even when the climb is steep.
“Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Heb. 11:1

By Wendy Kleker

Blue all loaded up

Blue all loaded up


Sleeping tent

Sleeping tent

Posted in Break free of the darkness, Comfort, Encouragement, Faith, God is Always good, God is faithful, God is good, God is my Deliverer, God knows my life, Hunting Camp, Live in the Sunshine, Loss of a child, Outfitting in Montana, Trusting God | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Trouble on the Trail part 1

Posted on February 10, 2014 by Wendy Kleker

Since there have been some confusion of the time of these stories, I thought I would relate a bit of history. In 1995, Two years after John and I were married we bought the outfitting business and thus began our great mountain adventures. Regulations and red tape are funny things, especially when it comes to the Forest Service, Montana Fish and Game and outfitting. The first year John had not yet acquired his Outfitting license due to afore mentioned red tape but the FS required that we have so many guests in our hunting area before the permits could be transferred to us. We operated under the former owner’s license and since we had not had time to advertise and get clients we invited our friends to come into camp and hunt the area. John did pass all his tests and the years following, we did have “real” clients, I will be relating some of those stories later. We owned and operated Wilderness Riders Outfitting (already named) for 5 or 6 years, but once we moved to Trego MT the distance to travel and the demands of running a ranch were such that we deemed it prudent to sell the business. I did run trail rides in the summer in Trego until we left the area. Don’t be surprised if some of my Trail ride adventures find their way into my blog also.

Kitchen boxes set up in kitchen tent

Image

TROUBLE ON THE TRAIL

The Day Stormy Stormed

            John heaved the 70 pound wooden kitchen box against Stormy’s side laying it carefully on the pack saddle.  The handsome bay gelding stepped nervously away from us causing John to nearly drop the cumbersome box.

“Easy Buddy, take it easy now,” I crooned, as I rubbed the dark red neck.  I moved the rope, John had previously hung in place for the basket knot, around the box and pulled the end until it was cinched tight.  John held the rope while I eased around the fidgety gelding to pull down on the metal rings of the pack saddle acting as a counter weight while John tied off the rope on his side.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, as John came around the horse’s rear and lifted the other box, resting it on the pack saddle.  Stormy shifted away again and I rubbed his neck, talking gently to him.

“Whaaat?”  John grunted while holding the heavy box.

“Packing Stormy,” I worked on getting the rope in place and pulling it tight. “Okay you can let go.  Are you sure you want to pack Stormy?”, I continued while my husband tied off that side.  “I can ride him.  Or maybe we should put the boxes on Sunny.”

The 4 by 3 ft. boxes held all the kitchen utensils, pots and pans, plates, eating utensils and other sundry supplies for the kitchen in our hunting camp.  To insure against any rattles or thumps I had carefully packed the boxes wrapping and cushioning the contents with towels, cloths and even our clothes. There shouldn’t have been any rattles, but the boxes tended to squeak a bit against the saddle and bump the side of the horse.

“Terry said he’d been packed, I’m sure he’ll be okay once he gets used to it.”  John moved to grab a pack of light gear rolled in a canvas manny.  “Just steady this,” he said as he placed the pack on top of the pack saddle.

Stormy, a seven year old Quarter horse we had borrowed from John’s cousin, stomped his foot as he stood with head up and ears twitching. I rubbed him with one hand and steadied the mannied pack with the other.  John carefully slid the rope over the pack and began his intricate weaving and knotting to keep the bulky pack and boxes in place for the 9 mile ride up the mountain to our hunting camp.

Once done Stormy was left to stand at the hitching post to ponder his unfamiliar burden while we repeated the steps of loading the other three pack horses, except with these we used panyards, or pack bags, that were strapped to the pack saddles.  Partner, also borrowed for the first time from Cousin Terry, was blind in his left eye and had to be approached from that side carefully, never from the rear since he tended to kick when he heard sounds he could not identify. Partner danced around and fidgeted some, but once the pack was securely in place he settled down and seemed to take it in his stride.

This was our first year as outfitters and we, as well as the horses, were learning the ropes.  We had done some packing that summer into the high mountain lakes, but now it was hunting season and time to set up our hunting camp on Cache Creek in the middle of a roadless, wilderness area on the rugged Montana/Idaho border.

We had also borrowed from Terry, a, gentle palomino gelding and I had opted on Lucky’s steadiness to ride while leading packhorses up the rugged trail.  Especially horses that were not seasoned in packing.  John decided I should lead Stormy since he was familiar with Lucky and he would lead the other three pack horses.

After checking cinches, I mounted Lucky, and John handed me Stormy’s lead rope and told me to lead him around a bit to make sure the load would ride okay.  Stormy calmly followed in a couple of circles with head low, ears forward, seemingly unconcerned.

“Okay,” John said as he walked towards his riding horse, Blue, and the other three horses who were tied to the corral fence, “seems he’s okay with—”

Suddenly the rope was jerked from my hand as Stormy leaped forward and started bucking, heading straight towards John.

“Watchit!” I yelled, and John jumped to the side.  Stormy bucked past the other horses making them jump and pull on the lead ropes. With the heavy boxes flapping and thumping his side, the horse bucked his way around the large corral then came to a stand still not far from where Lucky and I watched with wide eyes.

“Easy Buddy,” I slid off Lucky and eased up to the shaking bay, “its okay now, easy boy.”  Grabbing the lead rope, I rubbed Stormy’s sweaty neck and crooned to him.

John checked knots and cinches, “Well at least the load held,” he said with a grin.  He grabbed Stormy’s lead rope and led him around.  The gelding followed quietly, with his head behind John’s back.  Stopping John rocked the boxes back and forth and thumped them against Stormy’s side.  Stormy stood still with head down.

“Seems he got that out of his system, he’ll be okay now.”  Then he handed me the lead.

All right, okay, he’ll be fine.  I told myself, as we headed down the trail with John in the front leading Rocket with Sunny and Partner piggybacked behind. Real reassuring when you think of it, we had Stormy, Rocket, Blue the Boo-boo and a one-eyed Partner.  Luckily we had a calm Lucky Strike and once healed of his cut, Sunny shinned as a mountain horse. In fact he never stepped off the trail again. (from a previous story)

I gripped Stormy’s rope as if I was hanging off a cliff.  Stormy followed meekly behind the quiet Lucky, head down, calmly plunking one hoof in front of the other.

“That’s good, ole Stormy boy, nothing to worry about here.”  I kept talking to him as we meandered up a gentle slope through wide spaced timber.  Calm settled on my shoulders like a cape of warm wool on a nippy morning.  I breathed deep the tangy scent of pine, fir and the decay of summer’s growth.  Tipping my head up, I watched a hawk sore in the blue expanse of sky.  The trail cut across an open slope, I could see the canyon ahead winding its way up the mountain.  The sun shone on the golden larch trees that littered the steep canyon sides among the dark green firs. Peace flooded my soul and the cares of life seemed far away.

As the trail leveled out in a patch of dog-hair, Lodgepole pine, I realized I still had a death grip on the lead rope and Stormy was dogging Lucky as calm as could be, so I relaxed my hold.  Yep, he’s fine now.

A minute later something banged my leg as a red streak flashed by and the lead rope jerked from my hand.  Stormy stormed again.  Running and bucking, he headed right towards John’s three loaded pack horses.

“Watch out!”  I yelled and held my breath.  The tornado of banging boxes and flying hooves landed right in the middle of four horses and there was a melee of horses, packs and John’s hat. I kept my eyes on Stormy who was carrying my kitchen.  The before mentioned cyclone, bucked amongst the thick timber, the boxes thumping and clanging and banging on trees.  I could just imagine kitchen utensils and dishes strung all over tarnation.

Rocket followed suit and ran out through the trees bucking until his load slid to the ground.  Partner stood on the trail, head high, but not moving an inch and Sunny after jumping and whirling around, breaking the twine that held Partner to his pack saddle, drug his lead rope to follow Blue, who John tied to the nearest tree.

I jumped off Lucky and eased up to Partner before he decided to de-load also, and tied him to a tree.  Then I surveyed the damage.  Stormy stood a few hundred feet off the trail with one box dangling from his side, the other box a few feet away on the ground, sleeping bags and pads littered the forest floor.  Rocket completely denuded of saddle and pack was walking calmly towards us through the trees as if to say, “so that’s how it’s done.”

Stomping after John towards Stormy with my hands fisted, I growled, “If that horse has ruined my kitchen I’m shooting him!”  Course anyone who knows me, knows I could no more shoot a horse than dig a hole to the core of the earth.  But I was seeing red!  You don’t mess with my kitchen!

John wisely said, “Go get Rocket, I’ll take a look here.”  By the time I had gathered up Rocket, grumbling the whole way about, “stupid horses!”  John had the box untangled and the pack saddle off Stormy.  Who now stood calmly with his head down and his sweaty sides heaving.

“You won’t fool us again with that calm act,” I growled to the meek looking horse.  I expected to see broken boxes and kitchen utensils scattered amongst the forest growth, but not a box was open. They both held tight and were undamaged.

However the girth straps on Rocket’s saddle were broken, so saddle and the load had to be left behind until the next trip when we could repair it.  John put his saddle on Stormy, very brave fellow he is.  And we packed the boxes on Blue since Rocket was too small for the big boxes. So after an hour or so delay we once again made our way up the trail.

Once John tried using Stormy to pack fire wood into camp, and low and behold if he didn’t up and storm again, stringing firewood a hundred yards through the timber.  However, Stormy was a fine riding horse.  John rode him, I rode him, a guide we hired rode him, his owner rode him when he came into camp, but never again did we try to pack Stormy.

Psalms 29:3-11                                     A Storm.

“The voice of the Lord is over the waters.  The God of glory thunders!”

Black clouds roil on the horizon, rolling swiftly before the wind.  Thunder rolls across the prairie like a bowling ball, rumbling across the dark sky.

“The voice of the Lord is powerful!  The voice of the Lord is full of majesty.”

Wind tears across the prairie grass, laying it to the ground.  The wind bends the trees almost double.  The wind screams around the house and roars in the tree tops.

The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars yes, the Lord splinters the cedars of Lebanon. He makes them also skip like a calf and a young wild ox.

Tall pines crack and splinter in the wind.  Huge branches fly to the ground.  Captives of the wind, tumble weeds roll and bounce across the prairie.

“The voice of the Lord divides the flames of fire.

Lighting streaking across the sky, horizontal to the earth.  Bolts splitting and shooting through the clouds, exploding brilliance from horizon to horizon.

“The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness.”

Thunder crashes, the ground shakes, the house shudders, the hills quake.

“The Lord makes the deer give birth and strips the forest bare.”

Nature, animals, tornados, floods, earthquakes, hurricanes, great storms, God controls it all.

“In His temple everyone says, “Glory!”

Glory to the Mighty One!  Holy, Holy  Holy is the Lamb who was slain!

“The Lord sat enthroned at the flood.

The flood was God’s idea, He created it, He made it happen. He controls all things. He brings good and he brings bad, for—

“The Lord sits as King forever!”

Forever and ever He is King over all!

“The Lord will give strength to His people.  The Lord will bless His people with peace.”

When the storm rolls in, when there’s trouble on the trail, when the night gets black as ink, when the lightening streaks, when the thunder crashes, when the ground shakes,  when the wind snaps the trees, I can have utter trust and complete peace that surpasses understanding, because I know God is in control.  He is with me always and gives me strength during the storm.

Job says, “But He is unique, and who can make Him change?  And whatever His soul desires, that He does.  For He performs what is appointed for me, and many such things are with Him.” 23:13-14

God does what God desires, nothing and no one can change Him or His plans.  He performs for me, what He has planned, and He has many plans for me.  I believe with all my heart those plans are for  good.  Even when they don’t seem good.

Job also says, “But He knows the way that I take, when he has tested me,  I shall come forth as gold.”

God knows about the storm, or the terrible trouble, or my small problems. He knows and He allows or causes the tests for my good.  So that I may come forth as gold.  Gold to shine forth His glory!  So that I may stand in His temple, where ever He is, and shout “GLORY! Glory to God!”

“Give unto the Lord, O you mighty ones, give unto the Lord glory and strength.  Give unto the Lord the glory due to His name.  Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.”  Ps. 29:1-2

At base camp, left to right, Lucky, Stormy, Rocket, Blue, Sunny

Base Camp 5

The Cache Creek trail, Larch trees on the hillside

 

Cache cr. 1

 

 

Blue and Sunny tied to the highline

 

Camp 4

String of pack horses, hauling hay, Partner in rear

On the trail 10

Loading and hitching–not sure what we had going there

Packing 2

Arriving in camp before tents are set up, We even packed Misti, the dog.                               Rocket in foreground

Packing, horses 7

On the trail, probably near where Stormy stormed

Trail 12

Posted in Encouragement, God has the victory, God knows my life, God knows our pain, God's glory shining, Hunting Camp, Outfitting in Montana, Storm, Trusting God | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments