Lost (and found) on the Prairie Wind

Grasping for purchase (and finding purpose)

An old school house among MN fields, lost to the modern day, but found again for those who notice.

In a spartan Veterans Affairs office in an aging, concrete building in north Georgia, there is a sign posted for clients to read and ponder: "If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans." Truth.

I moved to Minnesota as the last summer days hinted at the upcoming change signaling winter’s turn. How was I to know the extent of how my life would shift?

Knowing that as my mom aged she might need a helping hand, I altered the post-kids portion of my world so it would allow me to eventually move and help mom continue living independently. When it happened, I was unprepared and on vacation. In the end, I had five days to drive back to Georgia, pack my things, grab some hugs, and head back to Minnesota before she was discharged from the recovery center and under my total care. Oy!

I'm surprised how much my move to Minnesota affected me. I thought I was ready for it. Afterall, isn't that what I had planned? The sudden move was surprising, but even more surprising was the extent of my homesickness. I've moved plenty of times, have had to form new friends and build new adventures as I transformed from one stage to another and never, ever, felt homesick...until this past year.

I wasn't necessarily homesick for Georgia, nor necessarily for the last place I called 'home', but more for the stark absence of my own support system which was no longer handy nor nearby. Central Minnesota is where most of my relatives live and where I've been able to occasionally visit since childhood. But no one in Minnesota has been an active part of my adult life. Due to life circumstances, even my parents were only able to be an extension of my life and not a consistent presence of my adult days. With support gone, I was untethered and lost on the prairie wind cutting across the plains of the Dakotas and into my newly forming Minnesota heart.

Although I count myself blessed in the “friends” arena, I don't know how to begin developing friendships, so creating new tethers and anchors wasn't even attempted. All at once, I was lost and tossed into what I began to think of as the wicked and wild prairie wind. My first months as a resident of Minnesota ushered in the crisp fall followed by the bitter and biting winter prairie wind. I told a friend who had warned me of the wind's ferocity, "I know you know this, but man! that prairie wind is brutal!" As time continued its march through the winter months, you'd hear me repeat that belief many times.

Given my past challenges and victories, I don't fear death, sickness, or other life challenges that many would rather not contemplate. If any of that swings by once more for a visit, so be it. My first born describes me as the character in one of his favorite childhood books titled "The Little Old Lady Who Wasn't Afraid of Anything" (thanks, B). However, at some point during the bleak and brief winter daylight, I recognized I was fighting social withdrawal and loneliness. I was lost and felt alone. I discovered an unexpected fear of being unconnected…redundant…and most of all...unwanted. For a breath, I thought I saw a future only to have it torn apart in another gale storm surging down on the frigid north wind. I found myself feeling like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady after Henry Higgins had successfully transformed her from a common guttersnipe to a perceived princess and he was "thank[ing] God that's over." Eliza sat alone and cried, "What's to become of me?" because she no longer belonged in her old world and there was no place for her in the new.

These were new (albeit unwanted) feelings for me. I recognized the signs of my depressive state, but had never really experienced them before. I walked through a period of self-analysis and described myself as standing out on an abandoned old porch looking out on a midwestern field. The prairie wind would whip around the corners, shattering my fragile serenity and send a chill that stung to my core. It carried away my dreams and hope amongst the dust and grime just as it has for others throughout the ages with an echoed warning to the new generation if they bothered to pause and listen.

I had lost my direction with no real plan where I could visualize a path out of my depressive state and navigate a rocky re-start. Each morning I work with the mantra, “maybe this day,” but the winter sun’s time is too brief and by sunset I was back to cursing the prairie wind and the promise it carried away. Damaged, blown over, and alone to administer to my own triage, I had to shake off my own self-deprecation and listen to good counsel of good friends who helped me reassess life and my presence in the world. I decided I might as well get on with it (life, that is).

That same prairie wind then dried the tears on my disillusioned face, suggesting that it's time to let the wind lift me up and forward. Chagrined, I chide myself that it only took 10 months to figure that out. I'm an idiot!

I've surrendered to the wind. I can't reckon with a force as great as what's behind the prairie wind. Each day I work to practice what I know to be true: joy abounds. It's right in front of my face. It's in the seeds of spring, in the warmth of a winter fire, and the sights and smells of a freshly mowed Minnesotan lawn. For me, joy is always in the companionship of a friend. Silly rabbit, I've been surrounded by those I love all this time. How could I be alone? I still feel a pang of guilt that I had leaned so heavily on them as I struggled with the Wind, but I will be forever grateful they were and are there. I remain afloat because of them.

I'm no longer lost on the prairie wind. More accurately, I think I might have found myself there.

Almost 60 years ago, I was born in Minnesota just as the cold winter winds were coming in from the prairie. This past winter I was so caught up in my own earthly whines that I missed noticing that the prairie wind has always been part of me. It has found me once again.

I've simply had to be reminded that I'm not the focus; I'm just along for the ride. And what a ride it could be. I could resist and flounder. I could fight and try to force the Wind's direction into some malformed plan or dream so crude and parochial compared to what is already in play. Once I surrender and let go, it's so much easier to simply flow in its wake. There is ultimate, giggling-from-the-belly joy when I let the Wind take me on its adventure. What have I been waiting for?

What's the difference? Nothing external; instead, it's a transformation of the mind, a reforming of what's important and where I rest in The Plan.** It's the transformative realization that it’s not about me. It’s about where the Wind takes me. It’s the journey. It’s the art of losing myself while living in the Wind. It's accepting the Wind, both destructive and gentle, and learning to love the life it brings me.

How ironic to find freedom in surrender. Instead of dreading, I now wonder where The Wind will take me. Maybe…it's right where I am. That’s certainly a different perspective for me. How curious to discover that I’m perfectly comfortable with that notion. Therefore, I will seek the exhilaration captured within the wind. Like the albatross, I will lock my wings and settle in for the long flight even when I know it can be turbulent, cleansing, wicked, or gentle. The wind brings the rains for the farmers. It cools the sweated brow while working the land, and challenges the sailor on a tack. It sings its song among the whistles, the leaves and the chimes for those who take the time to listen. That's life. It's not supposed to easy or planned. It's meant to be trusted that there is a plan, but we’re not meant to know it. We’re meant to live it with our best effort.

Yea, I guess I can do that.

God’s Blessings and good wanderings.

K^2

**Romans 12 is a special chapter I often turn to it like a map for my life’s journey, but 12:2 was particularly important for me to overcome my recent experience on the prairie wind: “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”