Last we knew, my dad was out of the hospital after being thrown from his horse, Wyatt was on a plane headed for the ranch the morning after his high school graduation, and I was curled up on the couch writing by candlelight about my heroes.
Dad continues to heal. While our time on the ranch last year was filled with horses and rafting, this year’s time was all about Dad’s healing. The latest X-ray revealed that he broke seven ribs, rather than the five we originally thought, and his collarbone is held together by a piece of metal and a comb of screws into the bone. He’ll light up security at the airport like a firework display.
While the kids were on the ranch, I made my yearly trek to Chicago where one week a year I work instructors in the construction industry, essentially, teaching construction workers how to teach. For this brief week each year, a group of teacher educators from around the world comes together with instructors in the construction industry from across the US, and we spend a week of intensity in which we bring different areas of expertise to work and learn together, with the construction workers learning about how to compose an engaged class and the teacher educators learning about hoisting, rigging, scaffolding, and other aspects of the construction industry. I look forward to this week all year.
My plane from Chicago landed on an uncharacteristically wet June western South Dakota prairie – lush and green as Ireland. Our group from Chicago was returning home to places across the US and the world. Branding was the next day on the ranch. Thinking about the different worlds we each inhabit and move between, I wrote of the mosaic of each of our lives the morning of the branding. Mom wrote back, “Mosaic? It’s all about mud and manure!”
Dad oversaw this year’s branding on foot and all went well. Most notable among the conversations at our branding and others, was how many hours shorter brandings are this year, due to the losses of the Atlas Storm.
A series of storms blew in trailing thunder and lightning on our final night on the ranch.
I watched the clouds ebb to the north, as others approached from the south. A rainbow slipped in between storms. I thought of Dad’s healing, of all happening, and the unknown yet to come.
Let us enjoy the rainbow between storms.