Welcome to YAAK Adventures


Live Richly, Live Free. Embrace All The Blessings From Our Creator and Marvel in His Creation.

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Terror on the Mountain

Camping by this Creek!

Beautiful Saphira

                                  Saphira got her wish to be pregnant with her mama!

Denver and His Nephew

Our Family!

Miss Moonbeam and Cousins
Moonbeam Decides to Jump!

All the kids helping get wood!

Thankful for my Ali Cat!!   Best Daughter in Law EVER!!!

How I found myself hiking up a mountain with 3 girls from our local behavioral school, I'll never know, but sure enough that's what I was doing. I also found myself to be 23 weeks pregnant. No, it wasn't a strange dream. No, I wasn't delusional, nor was I intoxicated. I was just plain hiking up a mountain, unarmed, with 3 that I was in charge of and pregnant as all get out........................

As you may notice, its been a long time since I've written. So long in fact, that I forgot how much I love writing. Busyness, perpetual grief and maybe a little temporary insanity kept me away for a very long time, but I am hoping to be back now.

Some how, the local behavioral school never got the memo that I'm seriously immature and very imaginative. They hired me under the guise of being a seasoned emergency RN. My boss over there still puts up with me too, even though she knows better. They've all kind of accepted that I have a different way of seeing things. How I've kept that job for so long, I don't know. I think its more of a God ordained position. I do miss my "working mom blues stories" mostly written there during long nights and in between patients. With this new job, they don't really know me yet. I think they were thinking of hiring a frowny faced, stuffy school nurse when they recruited me. Unknowns to them, my husband calls me "a troubled adult" and claims that I should have attended the behavioral boarding school as a child. I couldn't bear the thought of being a stuffy school nurse alone, so I negotiated to have them let me do a few hours a week doing "girls athletics" at a lower rate of pay. Somehow they agreed.

Since then, every time we go out, I dawn the giggles and laugh hysterically that they trust me to take girls out of the facility. I attempted to train a reluctant bunch of girls to run "The Sasquatch
Race". That involved a lot of ups and downs and learning curves for me. A lot of these girls have come from big cities and even across the world. They've never lived the kind of life that I so often take for granted. Some of them had truly never run. Some never have hiked in the woods. Some had a lot of emotional challenges preventing them from believing that they could. In the end, my bedraggled crew ran the race and were proud of their accomplishment.

After that, I did "open water swim training" with them. Again, it was a new learning curve. I pushed them hard in the water and made them swim distances they never dreamt they could. Most of them improved their form, but I would have liked them to improve it even more. At the end of that season, as usual, I found myself in a bizarre position. I had arranged for a big ice cream sundae party. As we gorged on multiple bowls of varied ice creams and toppings in a near by bunk house, the rest of the kids were in a discipline mode for some trouble. There was a strange and eerie silence about the campus, which we didn't discover until we were all finished. Here we were being silly and chocolaty while every body else was in trouble.

As I get more and more pregnant, I can do less and less. Instead of running in the fall, I shifted over to trying some hikes. On this particular day, I found myself hiking up to a local mountain summit with 3 charges. Two of the girls ran and swam with me but one of them was new. She'd never done anything like this before and she was struggling. Up higher and higher we hiked. The trail got narrower and steeper. We took more and more breaks.  At one point, the new girl went into meltdown mode, and we'd gotten her back up hiking.  Suddenly we were surprised by crashing in the bushes!! I told her it was probably just a deer. It was directly below us. Then we heard deep guttural roaring growls. The terror echoed over the mountain side. The new girl started a high pitched crying sound. I shushed her quickly and pushed her up the mountain and away from the terrifying sounds. After a while, she was so overcome with exhaustion that she laid down on the trail and told me to let it eat her. With the urgency of wanting to distance us from the beast, I got very firm and pushed her harder to head upward. Finally in the last leg of our journey, I was ready to give up ever getting to the very top. We were both exhausted and ready to rest. There was a distance between us and the tree line now. I could see nothing on the hill side pursuing us. I was ready to sit down and pray. The other two girls had made it to the top and insisted we were very close. One of my favorites went back and helped the new girl to the top. Here we were, on top of a beautiful mountain. We stopped and fervently prayed for Gods protection. The girls could feel the power in our prayers. I slowly started feeling the assurance that everything would be okay. I was unarmed and had no way of protecting them except for trusting God to do it. The peace came that He would. We ate our lunch as the girls marveled over the rich scenery of mountains upon mountains spread out as far as we could see. They'd never seen anything like this, and the terror of getting up there was starting to lose its grip to the vastness of Gods creation. We took a lot of fun pictures and hoped the beast had moved on. I was fairly sure that our new girl wouldn't hold her footing trying to go down a different direction. We would have to trust that God could get us down and He did. The hike seemed dreamy and euphoric. It was such a beautiful day. I felt thankful

Saturday, April 29, 2017

Drunken Art and God

"My One and Only"


The Kids


Goat Girl

When my girlfriend, Elasta Woman, informed me that she was doing her own version of a "paint and sip" in her garage, I wasn't surprised, though I was highly alarmed.  They'd recently done a local "paint and sip" at the town tavern and everyone had talked about it for days on end.  My girlfriends love to do anything artistic.  They are also very thrifty.  It only stood to reason that one of them would come up with something like this.  The alarm mainly began sirening loudly in my head because I fear art.  I don't just fear it, I dread it, cower at the idea and mainly feel like throwing up when someone aptly suggests I participate in it.
   Elasta Woman wasn't going to take "no" for an answer easily and so I agreed to be there, even though I was already plotting my head how I could get out of actually painting.  The fantasy went something like this : I would stand there in front of a blank canvas.  Craftily, I would excuse myself to the bathroom, along with my canvas, paints, brush, easel and other assorted art type stuff.  Art Dog, my son, would meet me in the bathroom, where he would secretly and hurriedly paint a master piece.  Art Dog wasn't nick named "art dog" for nothing.  He's a serious artist.  Then I would yawn as I put a few finishing touches on my new painting.  The girls would "oooh" and "ahhhh" a bit.  Elasta Woman, clever as she is, might think something was fishy, but she could not prove a thing.  The ramifications of moving all that crap unnoticed into the bathroom left some room for imagination, but I will spare you of my ideas, because that's just not how it ended up happening................
   As usual, we were late.  My popcorn popper broke midpop leaving me with a mess of sauces and no corn.  I felt anxious and flustered as I noticed easels were already up and dinner was for all practical purposes over.  A shocking array of gourmet Mexican was spread across the garage.  People were greeting one another and laughing.  Children were running around outdoors playing.  Music made the whole thing feel festive.  One of our girlfriends, who has been through more than any woman should go through, busted out dancing.  Here was something I could relate to.  I busted out dancing too.  I started relaxing, maybe just a little. 
    I moved stealthily from woman to woman examining the pieces of art carefully.  Every painting was starting out fantastic.  After about my 3rd round, the women became suspicious.  "Go get a canvas" they kept encouraging me.  I avoided the subject until it could be avoided no longer.  I told one of them I was going to go pop popcorn.  She rolled her eyes and told me to go get a canvas.  Fear struck.  I knew it was now or never.  Art Dog had refused to participate in my cockamamie plan.  I was on my own.   I considered going off and playing with the kids.  I considered popping popcorn.  I considered hiding in the bathroom or holding a lively conversation with the men.  Then, just as a gazillion thoughts merged through my mind, the still small voice suggested I go get a canvas.......
    Gingerly, I took a canvas from the pile.  My girlfriends eagerly shared beautiful colors of paints, sizes of brushes and accepting smiles.  The music played and even though I'd have rather been dancing, something strange captured my heart.  The creator reminded me that He was my artist and that I was His canvas.  He reminded me, as with the proverbial potter and clay that I was what He created.  As girls laughed, painted and danced, I picked up the brush shakily and started to feel the life giver quietly guiding my imagination.  Before long, I was mixing colors, even though I didn't know how.  Slowly, a flower emerged and then a sun and then water.  The flower was me, growing.  The sun was God.  The more time I sat in the sun, the more that I reflected God's image.  The Holy Spirit was the water.  Bari gave me some coppery brown that seemed very earthy.  Soon the sun looked like it was sending fiery rays right into the flower.  The flower, vibrant reflected the sun.  I realized the art was kind of prophetic. 
   That's when, amidst the laughing and wine and crazy music that God really spoke to my heart and said He was going to heal me.  It was clear and distinct.  It was just like 9 years ago when God told me he would give me a baby when the flowers bloomed again, the promise of my littlest, Miss Moonbeam.  Something in me changed.  I knew it was true, that He really was going to heal me.  I was tired of waking up grieving and afraid.  I was tired of loss altogether.  I was ready to be well again and up until then never knew if  I ever would be.  Too many things had been stolen from me and I'd spent too much time feeling broken.  The more I painted, the more I knew that the painting really wasn't of my own talent.  Several friends came up and complimented me on my work.  Each time I told them about the prophetic meaning in it.  They all liked it. 
    As the party wore on, people got a bit rowdier.....  One of my most favorite friends ever, came up, too silly to realize what she was doing and dipped my brush in the blackest paint.  I watched with horror as she spread the black directly across the blazing sunbeams, right through the middle of the flower.  I gasped and collected my thoughts.  I grabbed the painting and traded her for a pad of paper.  I started washing off the black, but it created a permanent, eerie shadow.  I knew the painting still spoke.  The black shadow was a kind of "unpredictable" thing that happened.  Sometimes things out of our control, bad things happen.  The black shadow was like sin and evil.  Its there and sometimes we can't stop its presence from messing up things in our lives.  We are hurt by the choices and actions of others.  Deep down, though, God still continues to do his work in us.  We still reflect His image.  He is still causing us to bloom despite the death in our lives.  I kept trying to fix the shadow and the more I tried to fix it, the more distorted it appeared. 
   I hid back behind the table and painted on it until Matthew decided to start breaking his old dining room chairs on the cement floor.  He had never liked his chairs and decided that tonight was the night to express yourself by smashing them.  Soon everyone was busting up chairs on the concrete.  Matthew can and does usually make a crazy game out of everything.  He has the unique ability to get people on board with his crazy antics.  Pieces of wood hit my painting and I knew that I'd better stop.  I looked at it again.  I also realized that in every death I died, new life and new fields would grow.  Its just how God created it.  Deep in the swirls of the dark shadow new life multiplied and rose up.  And so, we can laugh, when our giddy friend does something a bit unpredictable.  We can laugh because in it God is working all along.  All along, He intends to heal us and bring forth more life.  All along, He's there in the midst of our suffering and torment.  He is the great painter, the great potter, the great Creator of our very souls......
   I laid down my brush for the last time, and still loved my painting.  Despite the good and the bad, the life and the death, God would make me bloom and he would heal me.  My husband was now smashing a chair and looked rather proud of himself.  We started dancing with pieces of broken chair.  The party seemed to be taking a new turn.  Elastawoman was moving art supplies and paintings to safer locations.  I was dancing with my husband like there was no tomorrow.  I ignored the fear and told myself to enjoy the moment and I did.......
  A couple of weeks later, Belle and I signed up run "Bloomsday".  I would be starting a new job soon.  Spring was here.  There was no telling what adventures might be ahead.  The past lies behind, but not very far, beckoning from a watery grave.  Its the dark shadow across the painting of my life, but its just a shadow.  Its not the whole picture.  No black can ever darken the Sun's reflection in our lives.