My town, My people!

I love my home town!
No! I really do!
I like being able to walk down the street and know almost everyone.
I like waving to neighbors when I walk to the store,
or drive down the street.


A few years back, there was an accident at our home
It happened the day of our annual Covered Wagon's Day Parade.
A man had a seizure after seeing the blinking lights of the patrol cars.
conveniently parked at each end of main street, detouring traffic.
He was going well over 60 m.p.h. when he hit out neighbors garage, bouncing him over to our fence line, where his truck tore it out.
He then hit our back steps, which forced him back over to out neighbors,
upon which he took out their clothes line, and ended up in their shed.


We had just walked in the door. Nathaniel was sitting near the window closest to the fence. Our youngest son, in the back bedroom, watching t.v. just a few feet from our back door. Our neighbors were gone.


My neighbor just happens to be the chief of police, and my husbands cousin.
We felt terrible for the destruction of their home, while rejoicing that the damage to our property and lives was very low.


Within minutes, our neighbors were there. 


After the all clear was given by the gas and electric company, our neighbors pitched in and helped pick up the debris. All of our neighbors things that were stored in the garage, were now all over the yard. It really didn't take long for everyone to clean it up, put their stuff in boxes and bags, and store it next to their home.


Our neighbors brought us something to drink, patted us on the back, and went back to their homes.


That night, a few neighbors and friends still stopping by to see the now non-existent fence, garage, clothes line, and shed just sat and visited.
We caught up with friends we hadn't really talked to in years, met some new friends, and thanked everyone who wanted to pitch in and help.


Now, I know this doesn't happen everywhere. (I did live in L.A. for a time)


But I like knowing that the people who live around us really do care, even when we only share the occasional wave or nod of a head.


No, we don't have all night stores, or hang outs, like people have in large cities. We don't have a mall, or a multitude of convenience stores. 


We have something much more important! It is knowing someone will always have your back if you need them, just as we would for them.


It isn't the buildings that make this town great, or even the single stop light. It is the people. The cat lady who we never see come out of her house. The people across the street that came to America for a better life and after years of work, became citizens. The couple with all the kids down the block, who wave and ask if we want to come play. The older couple on the end of our block who are always kind and loving to their pets. The young adults who share a house and have a party every now and then, (and play good music.) Our cousin and chief of police who works hard at keeping us safe. It is all these people and more.


Yes! I really do love this town!

Faith

I am a Christian.
It was not an inherited faith.
I did not become a Christian because my parents were Christians.
I did not become a Christian because I am weak, ill, or slow-witted. My faith is not a "crutch."
I certainly make no claims to be intelligent, I feel I am fairly normal in the brain department.
I did accept my God's forgiveness as a child, and at that time asked Him to be the Lord and Master of my life.
I do not claim to be a "Super Christian."
I do not claim that because of my faith, my life is perfect.
Anyone who knows me even slightly, knows my life is far from perfect!
I have not always lived my belief. I am guilty of being a hypocrite from time to time.
Christianity is not an easy form of faith.
My faith in an invisible God Has been trying and question filled. 
Yet, despite all of that, my faith is simple.
I believe God created this world in Seven days. I do not know exactly the length of those days, as I, nor anyone else, was present at that time. I do believe God is the creator of time, and thus is not held to it's constraints as humans are.
A creator can create anything to suit himself, and is completely able to change it.
I believe the Bible is the written word of God. I believe a Supreme Creator can use the mind and body of His creation, while still allowing said creation to use his or her own mind for interjection. To me, this does not make the bible invalid. I believe it is simply a fact.
I believe that Jesus Christ is the living Son of God. I believe He is the Word of God, His voice, His hands, and the reason for being able to approach Him without fear, boldly even, because of what He allowed His Son to do. 
I believe that the blood of Christ covers all sin. All Sin. even those I have not committed, all past sin, not only mine, but every single person who is willing to accept this gift. 
I believe there is nothing I can do in my own power to please my God. 
I believe that building faith takes a life time.
I believe that the Holy Spirit is God's breath living, ever present.
I believe that we can only meet God on His terms, which means accepting His gift of Jesus Christ.
I know that no matter what is happening in this world, my God will always be with me, often carrying me.


I still have struggles with my faith. I still question my God.
I believe both are acceptable to Him, because it is honest.


God is truth, there is no other.


In the next few weeks, I will be interjecting posts on a matter of topics concerning faith. I hope to hear from as many people as possible about this mysterious thing called Faith!


Have a question? I will be happy to search for the answer with you, although, I will probably be very likely to give you my opinion!


(Was that a warning??? L.O.L. Probably!)

Growing up in the "old" days!

Del Norte is an awesome place to grow up!
As a kid, I lived here from the time I was seven, until I was a teen, when we moved to Creede.
We lived on the north side of town, just off the highway, and near what is now the park. It wasn't built until just before we moved.
My cousin had an old horse, mainly white. His one outstanding feature was the small "o" that his lips made. He could never quite close his mouth. We could always tell which horse Blitz was in a crowd of white horses, just because of this little feature. My sister and I had ponies. Mine was called Babe, and my sisters, was her filly named Flicka.
Our pastures were near our house, so it was always easy access.
It was wonderful to grow up in a time where our parents never knew where we were, although they did know we were always out riding. We didn't have to worry about kidnapping, (Not that anyone would have wanted us, spending that much time with a horse lends a certain odor to your being,) or drugs, or weapons at school. 
The three of us girls were always together, always on an adventure!
One of our favorite places to ride was behind the sawmill. We would ride our horses across the lower head gates, or just across the Rio Grande, depending on the depth of the water. As long as the horses could swim, we figured we would make it.
We would spend hours in that little field of cottonwoods, pretending we were cowboys and indians, bank robbers, wealthy ranchers chasing cattle rustlers, or just racing. It was near the pig farm, and the swimming hole in the river, complete with a knotted rope for swinging out over the hole!
Of course, riding horses all day does make one hungry. Because we knew there would mainly be bologna or P.B.&J. at home, we would have to figure out a way to make money to buy the various junk food we craved.
One of our favorite ways to make money was dressing up as cowboys and indians. Because my cousin and I had western saddles, we were always the cowboys. My sister always had a tan, long hair, and looked kind of like a boy, she was the indian, complete with headband and face paint.
We would take our horses up to the Old West Hotel and pose for pictures for the tourists. 
This wasn't always an easy feat. One, we didn't have a camera, the tourists would have to use their own. Two, We had to collect a dollar from them after they snapped our photo. Most were simply not willing to do this. Thus, causing us to become miffed and because my pony was well trained, I would make her rear up at them to show my personal disgust. 
Most days, we would make a couple of dollars, which at that time, bought a whole bunch of junk food at Jessops store.
We would buy 5 cents worth of penny bubble gum. Some candy bars, and maybe even a soda. We would always make our money back on the bottles by trading them back in.
There was rarely a day we didn't ride. 
We considered ourselves expert on everything "horse."
We lived, ate, and breathed horse. Even at home, we would get down on our hands and pretend to be a horse, racing up and down the halls, causing our parents to yell at us to be quiet. My cousin and sister were fluent in "horse." I didn't ever master the talent of a whinny or a snort, but they needed someone to interpret, so that job was mine!
One particular winter, we had become upset with our respective parents, and decided to run away from home. It didn't take us long to figure out where we would go. To us, it was obvious. We would ride to Utah and live happily ever after with the Osmonds and Robert Redford. 
We knew a trip of this magnitude would take planning. One just couldn't take off and find horse feed just anywhere.
Grudgingly, we asked for maps and paper, which was given generously to us by our parents. 
The entire winter was spent around our kitchen table. Maps opened, and lists made of the items we needed before we could leave.
We tended to feed the horses a little better that winter, so they could fatten up for the trip.
I don't remember all the plans we made, but I do remember they were intricate. We knew how many miles we would ride every day. Yes, we were experts on this matter, because we had ridden to Center and Monte Vista previously, we knew what our horses could take. 
We knew we would have to get a couple of mules to haul all of our camping items, which consisted of a couple of pans, a water bucket, oats for the horses, and three blankets. 
We would camp the real way, using our saddles as pillows!
It was one of the best winters ever!
Looking back, I can now truly say how thankful I am for that time.
I know we wore those poor horses out, but we loved them more than life itself!
I know we drove our parents crazy, but they let us be kids and didn't mind too much when lived out our imaginations.
I feel sorry for kids who never had this chance. For us, the days were carefree and fun. They taught us how to settle our own fights, make a world of our own, and how to be compassionate and care for animals. We learned that family is always more important, that sometimes, boys are cute, but most of the time they weren't worth the effort, and we could be anything we wanted! We could make a circus and get our friends to join in, ride for hours, and stop and watch the wonders of the world around us.
There are moments when I see something that reminds me of that time. It makes me smile and in moments I'm swept away to that time and place, and I am a cowboy or a princess, riding off into the sunset!