Never a dull moment! August came and went, in some ways seeming to be a very long month, in others flying by too quickly.
The Sturgis Rally at the beginning of the month put everyone on edge. It wore me out, at least. Although no final numbers have been given, the estimate was that 1.3 million people would be congregating in the western third of a state with a population of less than 900 thousand…That’s a lot of people, in case you had any doubts. Glad that is over.
We spent time with friends and family, over meals, on hikes, enjoying the outdoors and wildlife, doing some shooting and taking pictures. God has blessed us with a wonderful church home and with a strengthening community of believers with which to fellowship. What a blessing.
I spent a week with Jack and his crew working cattle in South Dakota, Wyoming, and Nebraska, which was a welcome relief from the craziness of the tourist season. “Maybe she’ll marry a rancher,” Grandma says with a laugh.
After much deliberating, I gave my two weeks’ notice at the antique shop I worked at, and worked my last day last week. It was a great summer job, but the hours weren’t sustainable. After a few months working there, I realized I needed more time at home, more time with my family, more time spent in God’s wonderful creation, more time doing the things I love. It was a good decision, I must say. If you feel like you’re about to go crazy, do yourself a favor: look for other options. Give yourself permission to think outside of the box.
I wouldn’t want all months to be as busy as August was, but it was a good month. When Sarah and I hiked this evening, we were talking about being in South Dakota. Sometimes I still have to pinch myself when I think that we’re actually living here. Sarah commented, “God really cares about these things.” He cares that for as long as we’ve been alive, we’ve wanted to be in South Dakota, our “ancestral home,” as I like to think of it. He cares that this was one of the deep longings of our hearts, the desire to be here with family, the desire to walk these hills and these trails, to smell the pines, and listen to the wind singing through the needles on the trees. We’re here. And this is home. It always has been. Even before we were here. God knows. And God cares.