September, ca 2018

Was eight steadfast and determined men what rid into the Ruby River Valley that day.They come from all parts of country, and was of every age, some having been on life’s journey much longer than others. They rid the worn and winding trail down along the Tabaco Roots, and in shadow of Madison and Gravelly Mountains, through settlements of Ennis, Virginia City and Alder, and finally making way along reservoir and river and into lush valley to rein up at a place name of Ruby River Ranch. They weren’t outlaws, but they followed the One from two-thousand year past who was nailed to a tree for uttering words what angered the world, then changed it forever. 

The ranch itself was some 10,000-acre of cattle and crop and river cut through. It laid out wide across prairie and sage-covered mountain, land what was perfectly and profoundly crafted by masterful touch of the Great Creator.

This place was owned, I suppose, by the Creator hisself, and a kind and generous fellow called Gottwald who knew well these eight and they’s reason for gathering here. And knowing such, he did willingly provide lodging of most comfortable accommodation. They come to this place for the One that bound them each together, and the organization that did the same, FCA, the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Me and kin,

younger brother Matthew, pushed over from the Bitterroot Valley to join them, crossing the Big Hole and passing settlements of Wisdom and Dillon and also Sheridan and Alder.

I made the ninth of them men. Tho not one of their gang, yet following the same One who spoke that we should love the Creator and love our neighbor…and that them two commands alone was the entire intent of every proclamation made or word written by every profit through all of time. Words easily comprehended, yet often troublesome for one such as I to abide in thoroughly. 

Them words, tho, are what these men were sharing with young men and women athletes, coaches, churches and communities across this country and down into South America. Living words of amity, peace, grace. And faith. They had gathered to speak of where their organization was heading, and the trail what was ahead of them. It seemed a long and rugged path, indeed. But as they knew it to be worthy labor on behalf of the One what brought them here to now, they was undeterred.

And so then, amidst friendship and faith, we joyfully consumed all grandness of country and creation. 

We was regaled with Bull Moose by half-the-dozen in proud bearing of full headdress. 

Antlered elk aplenty. Vast green fields filled to full with dashing and darting white tail. 

And a two-mile ribbon of clear water coiling and cutting in lovely landscape…and holding many a trout.

Some of them was more than proficient at presentation of fly to fish.

While other practiced with skillful study until them, too, become confident with rod and reel and was bringing sizeable bows and browns to net. 

Standing there in them cold currents, I felt humble honor to be part of the Great Creator’s earthly glory, and to be among these men. While all too seldom mentioned in these harsh and discordant days, there are good and decent folk among us. Them what see truly the meaning of words uttered long past. Words never meant as weapons of ill intent, but spoken only to lead one into the open arms of a compassionate Creator and to an immovable love for any and all who have portion in earthly presence. 

May these men fare well on they's journey ahead.

I have not died today. And that is a fine thing. Yours truly…