Last Thursday, I was sitting in my car waiting for my family to meet me in Hill City. I looked up from my crocheting and saw this spectacular rainbow! Yes, I chased it! It stretched all the way across the sky, and I could even see where it touched the ground. Unfortunately, it faded pretty quickly, before I could find a really good spot to get a picture of it, but here it is where it looked like it touched down. Right at the Chute Rooster bar and grill.
It really is a great deal. For one job, I get paid to ride horses, and for the other job, I get paid to play with fabric all day. There’s been a learning curve for both jobs, but each is going well in its own way.
The Hill City Mercantile is a relatively recent addition to Hill City Main Street, and is a beautiful renovation job on a building from the early 1900s. Pam and Gary, the owners, have done a marvelous job on the interior of the building, and it is just a gorgeous workplace. Sliding doors and exposed brick give the shop an industrial flair, and the warm, bright lighting sure brings out the colors in the fabric. It is an eye-catching interior!
I’ve been sewing since I was about ten, and on and off over the past few years I had tossed around the idea of working in a fabric store–What I perfect fit it is! It might be a little difficult to hang on to my paychecks, but hopefully I’ll have sufficient self-control. Everything seems to suggest projects to me, whether it be clothing for me, clothing to sell, doll clothes, pillowcases and bedding, curtains…
I especially like the Kansas Troubles line of fabric, a gorgeous collection of antique-looking prints. One of the fabrics looks like how I’ve always imagined Caroline Ingalls’ delaine dress to have looked. Green with little red berries on it. I know it was wool and not cotton, but I still think it must have looked something like our cotton print!
Today, I was given the management of remnants and fat quarters, both of which give me a little bit of artistic license as far as arranging the fabrics goes. Both jobs can be mindless activities, which is sometimes exactly what I like. I enjoy having my hands busy so my imagination is free to explore. And there’s something satisfying about baskets full of organized remnants at the end of the day. I’m afraid it is the remnants that get me–That little $2 or $4 price tag is so tempting! And what better for dolls’ clothes than small pieces of beautiful cotton!
May has come in with a flurry and flash–With her comes true spring weather, which in turn brings gardening and tourists. April flew by–Too fast almost, but it was a good fast. The close of April welcomes our third month in South Dakota, and closes out the earliest pages of this new life adventure.
Throughout the move and the transition here, God has provided in amazing ways. He’s provided us with a new church home, with families there that are like-minded Believers. He’s provided jobs for each of us girls: Anna has a job at Rushmore Cave, Sarah has a job at Dakota Greens Nursery, and I’ve been working for Jack Dye on his ranch and at the Hill City Mercantile. We’ve been spending lots of time with one another, as well as with our extended family, particularly my grandmother. It has been a delight to be able to just walk up the hill to her house, or to run over in the evening for a movie night. She loves the Little House on the Prairie TV series. She has excellent taste.
Although when we decided to move, I was completely on-board, I had my moments of doubt. Some of those concerns related to being twenty-four years old and completely starting over, being a graduate in music but really wanting to take time to self-search and pursue some other things, traveling forty-five minutes to get to church (the concern that our church community would all be that far away), etc.
It is generally expected that finishing college launches a graduate into a career, that the graduate arrives at the end of their degree with fully formed ambition, and goals for the future that relate directly to the degree. But what if they don’t? What if the graduate arrives at the end of college a little befuddled, unsatisfied with conventional wisdom, and with highly unconventional ideas of the future? Bloom where you’re planted.
The crabapple tree in this picture is a late bloomer. Our little valley stays cooler than other places in the Hills, so our fruit trees and this tree are just beginning to wake up from winter. Other trees in the region are already a blaze of color, their blossoming branches spreading high, full of leaves and the promise of abundant fruit. This little tree is taking its time–Whether circumstance or Providence decreed that this tree would bloom late, it doesn’t matter. The tree will blossom. It took five and a half years of college for me to figure out what my true passions are, and to realize what I truly find thrilling and joy-giving in life, to begin to understand some of the deepest God-given longings of my heart. I expect it will take longer, a lifetime, to figure out how best to use those passions in a manner that brings glory to God, and how to fit them together into a cohesive whole.
I could worry about convention, I could worry about what people will think, and I could spend time feeling silly for “dabbling” when it is expected that I pursue a “career” instead, or at least something within my field of study. I could feel a little foolish for being so eager to do smelly, unappealing cattle work (I’ll mention CIDRs again), when I should logically be doing something different. Or I could desire to pursue things that God has made possible, doors that he has opened, and seek to be useful and productive even while I’m dabbling.
In this past month (or two months–I’ll lump March in for this “Hindsight” musing), I’ve learned more about horses and cattle than I ever knew, I’ve been introduced to the fascinating work of artificial insemination, I’ve ridden horses more than I’ve ever ridden in my life, I’ve learned how to run a cash register, I’ve learned what a fat quarter is (a quilting term!) and how to assemble them, I’ve hiked a mountain, began learning how to drive stick, and my list could go on. Those fears I had have been relieved. I’ve found work that I love, we have church friends just seven miles away, and the chance to start over and reevaluate seems less daunting than it did. Never would I have thought that I’d be riding horses and herding cows a couple of months after graduating in music, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. We judged the homeschool Speech and Debate tournament a week or so ago, and went to the Volunteer Fire Department chili feed. We went to a wild game potluck at Rainbow Bible Ranch, hosted by the Reinholds, another homeschool family. We’ve spent time with cousins on both sides of the family, relishing having family so close. We’ve gotten plugged in with a church and have begun the work of putting down roots. God is good.
Here’s a beautiful passage of Matthew 6 to ponder:
25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Now that we’re getting settled in to our new home, now that we’ve gotten the log cabin organized and looking like a home, Sarah and I have been able to spend some time in the Miner’s Cabin getting it ready for residents. The beautiful old shack has been used as a storage cabin for the past fifteen or more years, and my goal is to get it back to roughly how I remember it being, back when I was little. Add a little pure imagination, some historical instinct, and I’m hoping it will be a lively, beautiful little place.
When Dad was in his early twenties and working on the Burlington-Northern Railroad, he lived in this old shack, and even through the winter–So rest your minds, it is livable. In spite of there being no plumbing. It needs new wiring and the wood burning stove needs maintenance, but the roof is new and the structure itself is surprisingly weather-tight.
My project this afternoon was to get my sewing cabinet set up. The cabin has three rooms–A living room, a bedroom, and a lean-to. The lean-to is where I am hoping my sewing things will get to live. Although it is a little hard to see in the picture, there is a glass-front cabinet against the wall to the left. 
About two weeks ago, Mom, Sarah and I boxed up all the old jars (you’d be amazed how many there were!), and separated the keepers from the pitchers–Or, rather, the ones useful for canning from the ones we probably wouldn’t want to use for canning. Of the ones we wouldn’t use, I confiscated some and now can use them for sewing organization! With all the extra jars cleared out or put to use, and with the interior dusted and wiped down with oil soap, it works nicely as storage space for sewing notions.
The shelves are the perfect depth for my overlock thread, as well as my normal sewing machine thread. There is an old spice rack and a curio shelf that I’m hoping to put to use for sewing supplies as well. 
Jars and baskets help organize buttons, sewing needles, machine needles, thread, sewing tools, and ribbon and trim. I’m looking forward to getting my sewing table set up, a gift from a dear woman back in Champaign for whom I did quite a bit of sewing work, and being able to sew away out here!
Such a cozy little cabin–A cozy cabin needs people to live in it.
Not that it has been terribly difficult or anything, but there are two answers to questions I’ve been getting used to giving. The first is “No, I’m actually a lot older than I look,” and the second is “I studied music in college.”
The first answer usually extracts some sort of puzzled or embarrassed stare, accompanied by (if it is a woman) “You’ll be thankful in twenty years.” To which I respond mentally, “Maybe, but men in my age bracket must assume I’m in middle school.” Whatever.
The second answer can actually encourage some interesting conversation. I’ve noticed that in this region of the country there is a great degree of open-mindedness about how you choose to use your college degree, if at all. Philosophy majors becoming sheep shearers. Professors of funeral services retiring to own fabric stores in tourist towns.
Yesterday evening I was with two guys I work with, and we had just finished riding heat on a herd of cattle for breeding purposes. Because our boss is in Alliance this week breeding for his brother, a breeder from another outfit was coming by to breed the three cattle that had come into heat yesterday morning. He arrived and within probably fifteen minutes had bred the cows. He’s efficient. I’d seen him around but hadn’t ever talked to him.
He peeled the shoulder-length, manure-covered glove off his left arm and threw it in the trash barrel, and put out his right hand. “I’m David.”
I smiled back. “I’m Laura.”
“Will you be around all summer?”
“On and off–It kind of depends on the hay crop, but I’ll be around here on and off this summer. I live pretty close.”
He nodded. “Going to school in Rapid?”
I laughed. “No, I’m actually quite a bit older than I look. I just graduated college.” I could have given him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he meant at the School of Mines–But last time I did the like, the person I was talking to became very confused later on.
“Oh–Okay. What did you study?”
I grinned, maybe a little sheepishly. “Music.”
“Music?” He shook with a laugh. “Boy, I bet you didn’t see much of this studying music.”
Men up to the shoulder inside a cow, all of us covered in dust, manure everywhere? You probably don’t even want to know what a CIDR is, and did you know that bull semen is kept frozen in nitrogen? You’d better wear gloves when handling it or you’ll get frostbite on your fingers. And what in the world is a gomer bull? I’d never herd of such a thing. Not studying music, that’s for sure!
David then launched into a conversation with Sean about how he got a little carried away on his four-wheeler chasing cows, and bowled one over twice. Cows are surprisingly resilient. Turns out you can drive a four-wheeler right over one and not even hurt it.
But the question remains: Music? I’ve wondered about my choices so far–Why did I pursue university studies for five and a half years, in music of all things, to then end up herding cattle and cutting fabric out in the Black Hills? Was it short-sightedness on my part? Were those five and a half years wasted?
Sure, I could be cynical and answer “yes” to those last questions. But I could also be faithful–While studying at the university, I believed God had put me there for a reason. Perhaps I’ll never know the answer, but whatever the reason was, he chose to open certain doors, provide certain financial support, and ordered circumstances that allowed me to develop a skill and talent that I really love. Do I want to pursue it full-time? No. Do I want to pursue it professionally? No. Was my time then wasted? Again, no. I was able to spend five and a half years pursuing the arts, music, singing, composition–What a privilege! That can never be taken away, regardless of how I use the slip of paper in the future. And now I’m herding cattle and cutting fabric in the place that is dearest to my heart of any place in the world, and I can honestly say I’ve never been more content. God is good.
God doesn’t always reveal to us the whys of our lives. Probably a good thing that he doesn’t. If he did, it wouldn’t take any faith to trust him.
Scratched paint and sunlight
Song Dog Journal 