Meet Ralph and Neoma. They have been family friends for a zillion years or more. Recently they bought a cabin in Colorado and are living the dream in a pine scented paradise.
Last week Cliff and I ventured to what I refer to ‘my mountains’ for a few days of relaxation, recreation, and research. We were met on a side road over LaVeta Pass by our friends and guided in to what Neoma referred to as “you’re going to think we are taking you to the end of the earth.” Well, if that is the end of the earth, I would have been the first to sign up on the Chris Columbus Vacation Cruise. It is a gorgeous log haven-inside and out. I am glad they had mats to wipe our shoes so none of us slipped in Cliff’s and my drool.
Being the perfect examples of hospitality, we were fed like royalty, enjoyed great conversation, shared old stories and a new one or two. For dessert we got ‘The Tour”. We hung out on porches, checked out bathrooms, and learned of upcoming plans they have for the house. Cliff got bit by a chipmunk that tapped on his leg, demanding sunflower seeds. Cliff obliged thus giving truth to the phrase ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’ Then we moved to the conversation pieces like the tale of why a white stuffed goat is protruding out of their fireplace when they aren’t hunters, and caught glimpses of Ralph’s horned toad collection that is scattered throughout the house.
When one has a horned toad collection, a) it’s a great collection to have because no one else on earth has one. b) when one is found it is a great rush since they are rare, c) you don’t end up with 50 bazillion of them and no place for them to go, and d) if someone gives you an ugly one, it fits right in.
So as Neoma and I toured and the guys were off talking about guy stuff, she pointed out a wall hanging in a bedroom of-you guessed it-horned toads. What? These little quilted guys were intricate works of art. The color coordinated pieces were masterfully put together and the stitches were the tiniest, most perfect I have ever seen. My mouth was hanging open, which seemed to be the theme for me during our whole visit, but this time I was speechless (and drool-less) over what I was seeing. “Rex made this for his dad at Christmas.” She went on to tell how their son had found the pattern and whipped it together in no time. This didn’t look like a speedy project. This was a piece that had been created with love. Before I knew it I found myself climbing on the bed to get some pictures of these unique little masterpieces. (Neoma will never have us back after I destroyed her house, so I knew I had to snap a picture quick!)
Are there days you feel about as ‘purdy’ as a horned toad? I’ve got the look going on today myself with no make-up and hair in a wind-whipped pony tail. The inside is just kind of blah and in a blue funk until………we go to the psalms or the Gospels or Paul’s letters or just about anywhere and we see a God who loves us-warts and all. Suddenly, we take on an identity of beauty for we have been stitched together by the Master’s Hand.
PS-If you want to know about the goat, you’ll just have to go visit them yourself. They have bells to scare off the bears, but watch out for the blood thirsty chipmunks.