Wild and Witty

Another Day.  Another City.  Another campground.  Three nights ago, we camped in Deadwood, SD after spending the day in Mt. Rushmore.  I spent the last two nights at a campground in Cody, Wyoming.  We did not travel at all yesterday; it was a nice break.  Not a planned break, but a nice one (I’ll tell you more about that in a minute.)  Today we traveled through Montana, and we are stopped in Missoula for the night. 

So how do I describe the scenery?  In a word-breathtaking.  Crystal has to keep reminding me to keep my eyes on the road.  Each mountain range is so unique.  Some are nothing but cliffs of rock.  Others are like rolling grassy hills.  In the distance, you can see snow capped mountains.  The evergreen covered mountains are my favorite.  The Black Hills near Rushmore are blanketed by them.  The sky is huge.  You can see a storm rolling in from miles away.  And at night, the stars dance.  And the rivers are white, as the currents pass over huge rocks and boulders.  As we ascend a mountain, driving over hills and around curves, you can look out and see beautiful valleys. 

 Two days ago, while driving to Cody, we passed over the Big Horn mountains.  Out of everything I’ve seen thus far, that has been the pinnacle.  The beauty of those mountains-wow.  Our God is an artist, and this world is His canvas.  He is so creative, so wild!  Have you ever thought of God that way-creative and wild?  Look around you.  Watch a stallion run, or gaze at a fire as it dances, or drive on a road carved out on the side of a rugged mountain.  And then realize that it was all His idea.

Anyway, I had begun my descent, all 18 miles of it, and I was enjoying every moment, drinking in the beauty of it all…until I realized that my trailer brakes had stopped working.  Not good. I am descending a steep, extremely curvy mountain, with no trailer brakes, and my Tahoe brakes were feeling spongy under my feet.  So I pulled over onto a scenic overlook, and my father-in-law pulled in behind me  When I got out of my vehicle, I noticed that the rear brakes on my Tahoe were smoking.  Without going into too much detail, about three hours later, while our families sat at a roadside diner called Dirty Annie’s, Crystal’s dad and I slooooooowly drove my Tahoe down the mountain.  By the time we were ready to move my vehicle, the brakes had cooled down and we had no problems getting it to the bottom.  Still, it is just a little unnerving rounding sharp curves with less than reliable brakes and only a guard rail separating you from the edge of the cliff. We spent the next day fixing my trailer brakes at a campground in Cody.  But I learned a valuable lesson: when you are descending a steep mountain and the sign says “Use Lower Gear,” third gear is not low enough.

Well, we are only about 150 miles from Coeur d’ Alene.  A roadtrip that started 15 days ago, will end tomorrow, but the adventure is just beginning.  It is exciting and frightening all at the same time.  I mean, we really need to see God come through and so some amazing things. But it seems as though God is always reassuring me of His promises to me.  Sometimes it's through provision.  Sometimes it’s through His Word.  Sometimes it’s through the encouragement of a friend.  And sometimes, it’s through a still, small voice.  Last night, in Cody, I was feeling anxious about all that still needed to happen.  I stepped out of my tent, looked up, and gazed at the stars in the vast night sky.  And the Artist who spoke them into being asked, “And you’re still wondering if I can take care of you?”  Noy only is He wild, but He is also witty.