Well, I had my tea….. so now it’s time for an adventure …
Healing
Unexpected things come into our lives from time to time, things that might bring great challenges and burdens, or overwhelming grief. These seasons of life can be so disquieting, they threaten to consume us. Don’t’ be lured into that trap!
You can use your troubles or grief to bring healing to others. Those experiences become a rite of passage, joining the ranks with those who have suffered similar ordeals. They offer opportunity to sympathize with others who find themselves facing the same challenges. It makes a great difference when someone who says, “I know how you feel,” really does.
Though we don’t enjoy that portion of the journey, I hope you are thankful that because of your sorrow, sickness, or fear, you have had the occasion to help others along the way. In so doing, we often find that we are the ones who have benefited from the encounter and brought healing to ourselves in the process.
She Said What?
Have you ever opened your mouth and unexpected words erupted from your lips? Have you ever gotten your syllables twisted and the wrong words came out? Were you shocked when you realized what you actually said? Did you glance around quickly to see if anyone noticed? Yep, they noticed!
In my many years of customer service working with the public, I have seen lots of things along the way and quite a variety of people, including those in the workplace. I have also heard things that brought shock, laughter, and surprise.
Twenty plus years ago, our institution offered a new deposit product for our Senior Citizens. It became one of our most popular accounts.
One day, an elderly gentleman on the other side of ninety-years-old shuffled in and approached one of our Customer Service Representatives to inquire about establishing an account. The employee explained all the benefits that came with the account. Being hard of hearing, the old man said, “Heh? What did you say?” The lady repeated the benefits, one of which was “free checks.” He said, “Heh? What did you say?” She yelled, “You get free sex with that.”
The world stopped as her words echoed all the way through the building. Immediately my wide eyes met those of my co-worker who sat closest to me. We tried to contain our surprise and our laughter with no avail. I was laughing so hard, I had to get up from my desk and go to the back. When the lady who misspoke realized what she said, she grinned just a bit but didn’t miss a beat. Of course, the man, though he made no indication that he truly heard what she said, told her, “I’ll take that account.” We figured if he really cashed in on the benefits, he would die of a heart attack.
For those who didn’t hear, word soon spread to employees and the public, to which they asked, “She said what?” Not long ago, one of our older customers asked if we still offer the same benefits with that account. I said, “No,” she doesn’t work here anymore.
The Family’s First House in the Canyon
Memories shared by Guest Author, my daddy, as told to him by those who experienced these events.
The promise of wedding bells was in the air. Their first sawmill duties included sawing lumber for the needed housing. The very first house they built was a frame building set up near a year-round spring[1] about three quarters of a mile further down the valley. The frame house huddled beside half a dozen trees across from the split top cliff-rock that borders the little spring creek.
This is the house that is pictured wrapped in snow with a digging crew on its roof. The next day (?) Ernest floundered his way through snow to get a midwife at the Brannin Ranch. My brother, John Carrington Ward, was home delivered here by his sweating, praying father. This was March, 1917.
On April 6th of that year the United States declared war on Germany. Both Ernest Parker and Bud Ward enlisted in the army and were sent overseas with the Army Engineers. Their experience with the sawmill proved beneficial. In France Ernest Parker would work a timbering crew, and Robert Ward would be Master Mechanic and sawyer of railroad ties and road and bridge timbers. Mother and her baby moved back to the Brannin ranch for the duration of the war.
When the next winter came it didn’t snow. The summer that followed had little rain, and a brush fire broke out near the falls of the Sweet Grass. The south side of the valley burst into flame. Two kids, Lloyd Rein and Benny Green, were riding in the Olson meadow. They saw the smoke and galloped up to tell Gordon (Langston) and Bill Briner who were working on the line fence between the Olson field and Brannin’s. Gordon left to collect some firefighting tools. Benny, Loyd, and Briner headed toward Brannin’s. They got there just as Babe Ward jerked the saddle off Dick Brannin’s horse, threw the saddle in the wagon for the Rein crew to deliver, jumped on the horse bareback and streaked over the hills toward Tronrud’s and the nearest phone to report the fire.
Within a few hours the mountains on the south side of the river were burned off from near the falls of the Sweet Grass to the Brannin Beaver ponds. When Ward and Parker came back from the war the mountains were still smoking. The scars of the fire dominated the valley for thirty years. Half of the available timber had burned. Some of the ‘wobbly” fire fighters, imported from the IWW Mine Union at Butte, nursed new blazes to augment their income. Bud Ward’s first civilian job was to dress in his army uniform, carry a rifle and ride shotgun for the lead Forest Ranger when he told the Wobblies they were fired. They looked at the glint in Bud’s eyes and decided to go back to Butte.
Blackened tree skeletons covered the south side of Sweet Grass Canyon. The Forest Service offered a permit to salvage the burned timber. The sawmill was set up on the shady side of the creek and a temporary cabin built on government land in a clearing at the foot of a burnt mountain. This was a place to live, but it wasn’t a house of Mother’s dreams. The next one would be. Soon the Ward and Parker sawmill would be back in business.
Question: how can you run a sawmill when the trees have all been killed by fire?
Answer: You salvaged the trees, turned black, you spit black and made blackened laundry for the laundress.
The mountain land not already settled was divided between the Northern Pacific Railroad and the National Forest. This meant setting up a sawmill on government land on the south side of the mountain about half a mile southwest of the Brannin holdings. They built house #2 near a spring that gushed clean water out from the blackened hillside. This was a log house, the sawmill was set up nearby, and some rabbit pens and chicken coups were built. The mink and weasels killed the rabbits. Hawks raided the chickens, and Mother and the Grey Hound-Great Dane dog battled the hawks. Brannin’s pet bear broke into this house and stole a fifty-pound sack of sugar. The sack tore open and left a trail of sugar across the floor. Later Uncle Gus killed the bear.
[1] The largest spring burst out of the ground at the foot of a meadow. When the sawmill was moved to its more permanent location on the hill above where Gommie’s house would be, a quarter of a mile-long flume was built to carry water from the spring to the sawmill where it would flush out the sawdust from the sawing operation. A smaller spring, coming out of the steep hillside was later boxed in and a pipe laid to carry water to the house (in the 1940s.).
Accidental Life
In my place of employment, we offer a couple of financial products that have an Accidental Death policy attached to the account. While training new employees to the department in which I work, I stress that those services are accidental death only. People often call and ask about their life insurance coverage, to which I say, “it is accidental death only.”
How many of these kids do you think were planned?
Several years ago, one of the CSRs in my department questioned me about some of the accounts. She was still trying to get the insurance option figured out. Still a bit confused she said, “So who qualifies for an accidental life policy?”
I looked at her with a twinkle of disbelief. I said, “Honey, almost everyone I know qualifies for accidental life because almost all of us were accidents. Just ask your mama.”
I had to explain it to her.
Snip Snip
Even without hearing all the various complaints the past few months about hair, it is obvious there has been an issue. Pandemics are not conducive to fancy hairdos or good hair days. Nope, not at all. I have seen individuals walk down the street with what appears to be a bush on their head. Ladies (and gents) who normally have luscious locks neatly in place now look like Medusa. Others who like their hair short and ironed down neatly grumble when they notice their tresses look akin to a wet mop. Well, I have a remedy for such a situation.
I know someone who can come to your rescue – my sister. If you’re in her vicinity, I imagine she would let you make an appointment. I can vouch for her mad skills. Why, more than once, she has risen to the occasion and even offered to cut my hair at no charge.
She does have one funny little quirk. No mirrors are allowed. After wrapping her victim, uhhhh, eeeer, her client, with a towel, she opens and closes the scissors a few times to test the sharpness. (Just ignore the glint in her eyes. She sometimes lets the power go to her head.) When she is satisfied, the new hairdo is well under way. Snip, snip. There is no need to worry!
When she cuts one side, she takes a quick look before moving to the other side. Then a funny thing happens. She stands back and studies her victim, ummmmm, subject. Fingers measure one side, then the other amid, “Hmmmm.” With a turn of the head from one side to the other, more sounds escape her throat. “Hmmmm. Hmmmm.” The next sound can be quite startling. It is more than just a sound; it is a giggle that turns into laughter. You might wonder, “What does the back of my head look like?” When her laughter turns into a roar, that may give you some indication.
Soon she is back at work – from side to side – and says, “I’m just evening it up. This side was longer than the other.” How many times can she say that? By the time she is finished, both sides are definitely even. How could it not be? There is nothing left.
My motto is – “it will grow back,” and it sure is easy to manage. You can wash your hair the same time you wash your face, with just one swoop of the washcloth.
So make your call! A good short haircut can last half a year at least. No worries! Give her a call at 1-800-nomirrors or shoot her an e-mail at snipandsnicker@lossoflocks.gone.
Oh – don’t forget your ear shields – and tell her her little sister sent ya!
A Matter of Perspective
I work in the financial arena. Working with the public is a unique, sometimes rewarding, sometimes frustrating experience. Some days it’s rewarding and completely satisfying, other days, not so much. Believe me – I’ve seen a lot in my many years of public service.
One day I had a customer who wanted to purchase an investment certificate. I showed her a rate sheet and gave explanation of the various interest terms. She groaned a bit and in the shakiest voice she could muster said, “Honey, I’m sixty-three years old. I probably won’t live four more years, so I’d better take the six-month certificate.”
A few days later, on the other end of the spectrum, I had a customer who inquired about the rates. I gave her a rate sheet to compare rates and terms. She said, “Honey, I’ll take the four-year certificate.” She was in her mid-nineties. I smiled, nodded and fixed it up for her. She didn’t know why I smiled. Immediately I thought of the lady I deemed as young in comparison to the 95ish year old “young” lady.
It’a all a matter or perspective!
Some people hide from the storm 
Some people look for the rainbow
The Unseen
‘If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”
Do you think just because you can’t see something, it doesn’t exist? We’ll let me just say that I sure can’t see that little bitty killer virus, but it’s there, it’s real, and it is wreaking havoc on our world. The evidence is undeniable.
Some people don’t believe in God because they can’t see Him though there has been evidence of God’s invisible attributes since the creation of the world. Hope looks beyond the visible and grasps that which it cannot see or explain. It shines light into our dark tunnel and gives us a path to follow. He is our light and hope.
“Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.”
‘The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.’ Haldir, Lord of the Rings
Light shines on the horizon
Pair of Shoes
One day at work, I couldn’t figure out why my feet felt so tired. My toes felt pinched, and the muscles in my legs ached and jerked with occasional spasms. Something just wasn’t right. I went through the usual steps of the day and was glad when it was time to go.
I couldn’t wait to get home, take my shoes off and get into something comfortable. My toes were screaming, demanding to be released from their hot prison. As I walked out the door to leave work, I took a deep breath and let out a big sigh. I glanced down at my tired feet and froze mid-stride. Blood rushed to my face and my cheeks flushed. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. There was no one around. I walked to the car quickly.
As soon as I got home, I put my bag on the table, sat down and threw my shoes off – one black shoe with a two-inch heel and one blue shoe with a three-inch heel. I had another pair just like it in the closet, for opposite feet of course. I don’t think I’ll wear either pair again.
New Beginnings
The night was cool, crisp and clear. Stars smiled and the waning crescent moon cast soft light through the barren trees that caused shadows to dance on the ground. We backed up to the fire to keep warm as we kept vigil, waiting for the new life to be born.
A stall had been prepared with clean dry straw. An occasional “moooo” was heard as the cow paced. Little hooves could already be seen emerging into the cool air. The mother lay down and her muscles tightened as she urged the little one on. She got up, paced some more, and soon a head with little ears began to wiggle. The process continued as she pushed a bit more. Another push and the calf dropped from its mother’s womb to the ground. I shivered, wondering if words could explain being taken from a mother’s warm womb and dropped into the world wet and cold.
the head and ears of the calf emerge 
mother licking off the birth fluids
Immediately the mother started licking and cleaning off the birth fluids from the new-born calf. We all watched in amazement as she continued licking the calf until it was shiny and clean. The inborn nature to survive was evident as the little one struggled to get up. After several attempts, the calf was up on all four wobbly legs.
The mother lowed softly, “maaa,” “maaaa,” as she gently licked her calf and nuzzled it toward her bulging ripe udders, encouraging it to latch on and nurse. It was important for the calf to get the first milk, the colostrum, to give it vital nutrition it needed and to bond with one another.
the calf is all clean 
having a snack after giving birth
We watched because of the fascination and miracle of birth, the miracle of life. It is the most commonplace of miracles, happening since the beginning of time. It is familiar yet phenomenal, timeless yet new. We also watched with apprehension because just days prior, the mother prolapsed and had to be stitched up. No one knew if the pressure of birth would make her prolapse again or if she and the baby would be in danger.
Though just one day old, born before the eve of the new year, the new-born calf is evidence of the gift of life, the hope of a new beginning. May your year be filled with new beginnings and the miracles life brings.