On Saturday we attended the 60th Wedding anniversary of Bob’s cousin Lyle Hanson and his wife Fyrne (née Haraldson.) These folks live in the very southern part of the province, about an hour south of Moose Jaw or about 70 miles north of the US border.
This is an area of many small hills. As I looked around from one of the hilltops and thought of great herds of buffalo roaming through this land centuries ago, I could more easily grasp the significance of the children’s chorus, “He owns the cattle on a thousand hills.”
“For every beast of the forest is mine, and the cattle upon a thousand hills.” Psalm 50:10
Lyle & Fyrne welcomed a lot of local well-wishers to the Community Hall where they held this Anniversary. After all, sixty is an amazing number, especially the sixty happy years they have had known. And both are in fairly good health, in fact they’re planning to stay living on the farm for as long as good health holds.
We took a little side trip while in the area, driving along the SE end of Old Wives Lake. We saw a few swans in the water and farther along what appeared to be white foam on the shore here and there for a stretch of several miles. But as we got close a bit of white foam took wings and flew off across the field. Nearing the white splashes we saw snow geese, thousands of them, resting beside the lake. It would have been awesome to see them all take off, but we couldn’t drive that close.
Coming down we had driven through another ‘cloud’ of snow geese, birds on both sides of the highway both in the air and on the ground, easily numbering in the thousands – likely on their way to join these ones and continue their journey south. What a sight it must be when they all come to rest along the shores in the South!
Bob also drove me around the area where he lived as a small boy. The town where his uncle once owned an automobile dealership is only a small square of long, dried grass now with only a couple of small sheds and the old school house still standing. Times change; people move on – and hopefully carry some imparted wisdom away from that little building. (Then someone like me comes along and writes a poem or story about what once was and is no more.)
Coming home we saw another phenomenon of (human) nature. There had been a big football game in Regina Saturday afternoon, so by the time we reached Chamberlain, where the road from Moose Jaw reaches the #2 highway between Regina and Saskatoon, Rough Rider fans were streaming back from the game.
We heard the game drew 37,000 spectators, and I’m sure a third of them were on the road back to Saskatoon by the time we reached it. Looked like a solid line of headlights to the south and tail lights to the north. We had to wait a good while for enough of a break in the line that Bob could floor it and make his left turn and get in the flow. Rest stops were full of customers wearing the Rider green & white, triumphant over today’s win.
Like the snow geese, thousands of people were on a journey that day. And we see so many folks making the trip all through life at top speed, hoping to someday reach a place of rest and security where they can put up their feet and relax awhile before passing on.
Makes me wonder: are we finding the joys in our journey? Will we feel at the end the satisfaction of a life well-lived? And where will each of us finally come to rest?
Friday Tales 