I hope all of my student friends have been rife with the end stages of the winter break decomposition! I know I have, for the first time in a while, gotten to take full advantage of doing NOTHING while on break. For all my non student friends out there, how is adulthood?

Speaking of adulthood, I just received today my appointment for an interview with Hannaford’s. Weddings in Louisiana do not come cheap, such as the lovely one I will be attending in March, so I will hopefully be getting a part time job at the Gorham location this semester to offset the cost of that (and all my Nav friends who will be going on missions trips this summer that I of course can’t wait to donate to…)

I’m almost willfully determined to not let this job get in the way of any of the plans I had this semester, such as discipleship (or alongsidership as we say, the distinction of which is for another blog post) and doing outreach on campus and the many other happenings of Navs as we gear up for this semester, continuing to train to get my brown belt in martial arts, and hopefully begin the long but worthwhile “last leg” of my college career on a good GPA, I mean, foot.

Well, maybe it’s less of a willful determination and more of a stubborn pride-as many of my friends work part time as well as go to school. 

But enough of those boring life updates! You came here for a story didn’t you?! Do you have your snacks? Do you have your blanket? I love telling stories; I only wish we were around a fire in the middle of the woods…

…

I remember my first pair of cowboy boots as well as anyone remembers their first bike. I got them a few days before I flew out to Colorado for my first summer at Wind River in 2017. Apparently, a cowboy hat for me was flying in a few days later on the head of one of the most amazing people I have ever met, although at the time I didn’t know it yet (spoiler-it was Rebecca Nelson, the sister of Gabrielle, the one who had told me about Wind River!) The boots were up to me, though. I headed out for the closest and most likely place to get cowboy boots in the Northeast…New Jersey.

No, really, that’s where I got them! In college, my mom worked for a shoe store, and now the guy owned a shop in New Jersey. Surely they must have cowboy boots! They, in fact, did carry them, but in only two styles-short and tall. I chose the short pair, a Dingo brand of boots, as they would probably make less of a statement. I was nervous and going for obscurity back then. I almost fell over when I looked at the price-I couldn’t in my wildest imagination conjure up why cowboy boots of all things could be that much. But I forked over the money and started to break them in. After all, I was working at a dude ranch! I did need them…

Those boots served me well that summer, but once I returned home, they were worse for the wear. I was not up to date (more like not trained in the slightest) in boot care skill. Up until this point in my simple, yankee life, I hadn’t worn anything that required more work than laceless converse sneakers. I recall one time during that summer, I was helping scoop poop in the worst rainstorm I experienced in my two years at the ranch. It was just pouring down buckets of rain (which makes poop very hard to scoop, mind you) and guess what I was in? My feet are comically small, so borrowing someone else’s old pair or the community muck boots really aren’t ever really helpful as the smallest one is always at least two sizes too big for me. I never wanted to get caught in shoes too big in case Don needed me to do my New-York-City-Fastwalk to get him something (i.e. Jenna-I- need-to-you-sprint-for-this-as-fast-as-your-legs-can-carry-you. It was a little joke we shared.)

All this being said, even after four (not kidding) pricey trips to the shoemaker once I was home, the boots did not seem up for another summer at the ranch. I really didn’t mind though, never being one for vanity*. I took with me this time in 2018 a pair of old workboot-like boots that I got for free, hoping that I could save my cowboy boots for square dancing and hootenanny and other non-horse poop/dirt related ranch actives. These workboot boots, however, were not up to the challenge as they were already damaged from the previous spring semester’s activities of demolition and construction (again, not kidding. Hint-transformation project). By the time the first week of Healing Warriors rolled around, there was simply no hiding how bad these boots were. They were not wearable anymore, and I was back to wearing my Dingo boots 24/7 which were not in much better shape.

I was in the dining hall trying to piece these back together when one of the volunteers for the ministry/guest that week walked in. She looked at me quite puzzled until I gave up with the super-glue and told her the comical story up until this point. She smiled and left to rejoin Sports Night, where a poorly placed kick of mine to a soccer ball was the last straw for these boots and led to the need for the super-glue.

After the hootenanny the following evening, this saint of a woman took me aside and told me that she wanted to get me new boots. I thanked her, but told her we couldn’t really do that. She said, “I already cleared it with Don, we’re doing it.” She had her mind made up, so I thanked her again and walked away, not really expecting that she was going to follow through with what she said. She, after all, did not know how small my feet were and couldn’t go out and buy them for me for herself, right?

After the video of the week had been played that following night to end the guests time at the ranch, she again came up to me and handed me an envelope. I thanked her again, and wished her and her husband a good rest of the summer. They were awesome people, and volunteered for Wind River in many ways. When I got back to my office that night, I put the envelope down and headed up to bed, exhausted after the full first week of guests. I thought to myself, it’s probably like $50 or something.

The next morning, I went down to eat breakfast and opened the envelope. Inside was $200, given by her and her husband and another couple from the ranch, with a little note saying, For new cowboy boots. I burst into tears and ran off to thank them for what they had done before they left. After about a week and a half, thanks to Don’s wife, Sarah, I was able to go into town and buy my new, durable, pair of Ariat cowboy boots. I was really conflicted about buying them though, I will confess. I felt really uncomfortable spending that much money on myself, and wanted to give it away to missions or something. But all the full-time staff urged me to do as they had written on the note. Don even was on the roof of the staff building one time, although I didn’t know it, and he kept shouting in a low, deep voice, “Jenna, go get new boots!” I thought for sure I was going crazy and had finally cracked, and I made myself dizzy turning every which way trying to figure out if I was hearing the voice of God or someone was being really weird and hiding until I realized that it was Don on the roof calling down to me and laughing.

I never imagined being so blessed by the guests of Wind River. It was my job to go out of my way and bless them, after all! My deepest gratitude will never be enough to those two couples who saw a girl in need and decided to bless her beyond her imagination. I guess  God is like that, though, and they were just acting in obedience to him. I wish so badly that I could tell you who they were and you could join in with me to thank them for what they did, but they probably want to remain anonymous. It probably seemed small to them in the moment, but I love those boots like nothing you could ever imagine

They are the smallest piece of the ranch that I get to take with me wherever I go. (Unlike Gabrielle, I could not bring back a horse. She really did though, ask her about it sometime). I clunk around in them, and they laugh with me at shenanigans the staff and I used to play. They cry with me when I just want to return to a place where things made sense and the days were long and full of possibility. They hold some of the burden of the already overflowing heart of a part-time cowgirl.

I charge you now to think about how you can be the blesser in your surroundings as these people were to me in theirs. Maybe it’s money, maybe it’s time, maybe it’s moral support. But when you go out of your way to look for those who need an act of kindness done for and to them, you probably won’t have to walk far. Hopefully your boots don’t break before then. But even if they do, I think you’ll be alright…

~J

 

*I would probably retract this statement if I was under oath due to the fact that my friend Ashley has the most gorgeous pair of boots I have ever seen in my life-gray leather with a sewn white flower pattern around the toe and up the sides, and that I would give my right arm for a pair like that in my size. Ashley, if you’re reading this, I’ll take them when your done with them. I’ll just wear a lot of thick socks to make them fit!