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Cowboy Poetry: The Cowboy's Cathedral

I don't know about you all, but I love this weekly Cowboy Poetry exercise. Stretching out my creative writing skills after long weekends of travel and even longer weeks of work is reenergizing for my soul. I guess that's why the faith element makes its way into my poetry every week!

Here is Week 2 of my Cowboy Poetry:

The Cowboy's Cathedral

Last January, as I tripped along an oceanside boardwalk,

I got to thinking about home way back in the mountains and prairies

of ole Montana. The roar of the ocean is kind of nice for a while

and that salty sea air beckons you on to the great yonder.

Nothing beats the mountains of home.

In February, I flew in over those jagged peaks and drew in a ragged sigh of relief.

It had been a long hard winter, but boy did home look beautiful

all faded and dead held fast in mid winter's icy grip. I'd never seen a warmer welcome in all my life.

Round came March, businesses closed, people hid, and everyone wondered

if this was the new normal now. I set off along the near-empty highways,

wandered down desolate trails, and soaked up life from my mountains.

By April, I was really beginning to worry. The rover's life on the road is great and all,

until the gas money runs low... and jobs are still on hold. So I climbed a little higher into those mountains and listened to the Wyoming wind blow.

May opened up job opportunities right in the nick of time, but Churches remained

frightened, closed, and online. I don't know why, but I just can't connect to the preacher's words through a screen or my brothers and sisters nowhere to be seen.

The mountains beckoned me on.

Sitting on the side of a mountain in August, a friend's encouragement reminded me of

something very important: "Where two are gathered in my name, I am there."

In good company then I sat, in the Cowboy's Cathedral.

The rock ledge my pew.

The wild creatures my fellow worshipers.

The heavens above my vaulted ceiling.

The great pines my pillars.

My dear friend and conscience my preachers.

Reflecting on the storms He has brought me through this far,

I was reminded of the most precious lesson of them all,

in the Cowboy's Cathedral:

God doesn't live in a building, He lives in my heart.

God being near doesn't change when His people must be a part.

It's September now, and the world just keeps changing.

So I'll head back to the Cathedral each time that wildness gets too overwhelming.

My God can handle whatever new normal

comes around to mess up my year, my month, my week, my day.

Thank you, fellow adventurers! You can follow the lilmissbearpaw blog page on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter @lilmissbearpaw for sneak peeks into upcoming posts and my adventures. This will also be a great place to share your own adventures!


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