Saturdays are Magical...

Lying in bed, I squint to see slits of sun squeezing through the curtain’s crevasse. It feels late, but it doesn’t matter. There are no alarms today. No one wakes up with a panicked glance towards the clock. It’s Saturday. This is the most peaceful morning of the week. Jesse stirs and rolls over to place a sleepy arm around my middle and I shut out the ever rising sun for a few more minutes.

Last night was not peaceful. On our bike ride home from the baseball game, a cloud of dread passed over me and followed us home. We’ve almost been here a month and I can’t wait to leave. I don’t know how to make it here and I don’t know if I can survive two years. The town where we live is a modest place nestled in the midst of the Rocky Mountains. If you make a complete turn, you will see mountains jutting into the sky from every angle.

I met with a dear woman from Jesse’s church this past week. We got together for coffee at 10 am and I left her at 1 pm. Leah confessed to me, that the mountains do feel suffocating at times. She often escapes to Kalispell MT for the wide open spaces and the sun. Here it can get grey and gloomy. The clouds settle around the peaks and block out the light. I told Leah how I wanted to hike to the top of every mountain here. It’s not that I’m an avid hiker or that I love the mountains; I need to crest each of their peaks so that the mountains don’t own me. Then when I bike to the store with a mountain in my face I can say, “I’ve conquered you. You don’t have anything on me.”

I am used to feeling restless: I almost always do. When I worked at the Salon I immediately started saving. I wanted at least $10,000 so that I could do anything. Last September when things were getting unbearable, I started searching for an escape. I looked up program after program: the peace core (need a degree), teaching English as a second language (need a degree), staying at a monastery in France (have to have visited before you can apply for a long term stay), Iris Ministries in Mozambique… I’m always looking for an escape. Last night I read my friend Jessa’s blog. She is about to go on The Amazing Race: 11 countries in 11 months. I was so envious. I want to see 11 countries in 11 months and back-pack my way around the globe! But I’m here, surrounded by rock, and trapped between American citizenship and Canadian Permanent Residency, without even the luxury of dreaming for an escape.

Did I mention that I love my husband? Now would probably be a good time to remind you that I am married to the best man I know. He can see the gold in this town: the beauty that shines out from the people and the places that surround us. All I see is grey mountains. When I left Leah and the coffee shop the other day, she said, “God told me to see this place as His nest for me.” Her words stuck. We are in a bowl, a nest of sorts in this valley. I mentioned Leah’s words to my friend Lori on the phone a day later. “That reminds me of bald eagles and their nests.” I looked up Bald Eagles. Apparently they build some of the largest nests of any bird. Most nests start 2 ft deep and 5 ft wide but continue to expand year after year. The largest nest every found was 20 ft deep and 9.5 ft across and weighed 3 short tons!!! (According to Wikipedia)

In my understanding the whole point of a nest is to nourish and protect and equip young birds with everything they need before they take that first, terrifying flight. Instead of seeing my new home as a hindrance to adventure or a trap, I will try to view these mountains as a nest: a temporary place of rest and refreshment before that first flight. Bald Eagles come back to their nests year after year. Similarly, Jesse and I may come back, or leave our home for someone else to inhabit.

But today, on our magical Saturday, we are cozy and safe. After waking up leisurely, Jesse is sprawled out on the couch re-reading the Hobbit, while I am curled up in our love seat next to the window. I sip my coffee and look out at the mountains jutting into a sunny blue sky.