Some of our guests find church an intrigal part of life and when they want to go, we make sure they have a chance to do so. There is a wonderful little church up in Alturas full of people who treat guests like Christmas presents. There is another little church down in Fall River that knows prayer and care like few I have experienced
We were heading down to the Fall River church. It is a lovely drive through the farms of Big Valley and up through the wooded pass. But the drop down the side of the mountains is beyond stunning. The ever safe but softly winding road opens into one of the most stunning views in North America. Mt Shasta looms over the lesser mountains, its majesty takes the breath from the most stoic of people. I never tire of it, nor the hawks, ravens and bald eagles that often intersect my view.
I told myself to breathe as we dropped into the Fall River Valley. My guests were stunned at the glory of it all. I whispered prayers within my mind as they talked of the beauty. They have been asked to endure much these days. Burdens of rock solid weight sit on those shoulders, and thier journey sometimes looks like a hike up the steep side of the mountain. I could see the tired in thier eyes. They are bearing it up, often bearing it alone, and most often bearing it in silence.
I think it ought not be so.
We were meant to walk the days of our lives, with thier troubles and cares, beside one another. Somewhere along the way, maybe in the annuls of social media and the excitement of entertainment church, we have lost the admission that we need one another for more than a smiley face or a thumbs up. Any idiot can click an icon on a smart phone. It takes a person of character and committment to strap on hiking boots, loop a sachel over the shoulder and hike with another who is carrying the cares of an uneasy life.
Pop culture tells us to make it on our own. We can do anything, they claim. Nothing can stop us but our own fear, they announce. I say hogwash. We cannot do anything. I willl never be a neuro surgeon. Why? My brain can't remember what it would have to remember. That is why. There is no shame in knowing what one cannot do. I can do many things. I cannot do anything. Admitting that in a world of narcissists who value thier abilities far beyond actuality is humbling.
It should not be.
But lets get back to talking about traversing the diffuculties of living in a world like ours. How do we get through the fields and the forests of our problems when it seems that the process of transgressing them is too big, too long and too taxing? We journey together, that is how.
One of the reasons the people of The Vinedresser's are here is to be sure that no one has to find thier way alone. We have been there. We know the trail of tears running down cheeks in the dark hours. We have lain in the sleepless moments of wondering what tomorrow will bring. We know the empty pit of betrayal and abandonment. We invite ourselves to lace up those worn boots and fill our sachel with what will be needed to make it through, and to come along side of the traveler. We walk with the anger and the disappointment; with the sorrow and regret; with the failure and the falling. We hold the hand of the one who wants to renew, restore, rebuild. We know the path out of the darkness and the places along the way where one should rest.
After service we drove home with a little chatter. Naps often come to offer peace on Sunday afternoons. Most of our guests go with them and let them sooth the weariness away. While they slept I poured a hot cup of my favorite tea and picked my favorite book. I sat near the creek and watched the baby trout wiggle the surface of the pond on the other side. Sitting there, I sipped my tea and let it fog the glasses perched at the end of my nose and then opened the leather bound book. In its pages I find the one who created all the beauty in nature around us; and who created me. There, I have found every answer to every question I have ever had. I have found comfort and care and wisdom. I have held its words in my mind when life was so dark I thought I would never see light again. It taught me how to climb those mountains. It always goes with me in my sachel.
We care about your struggle. We can help. The Author of the book has what you need.
Come, we will take you to Him.
The heavens are telling the glory of God; they are a marvelous display of his craftsmanship. ~~ Psalm 19:1
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