The Line Reawakens

     Wow! much has changed since my last blog, and much has stayed the same out on the line.  Over the past few years there hasn't been much activity since the Alliance project.  It was there where I met my longtime friend and confidant Jose Carlos Jimenez.

     While Jose was transitioning across the country in political activism and sorting out his Ojibwe and South American global ancestry, I, in the meantime, have been kept busy by Local 49 and the fellas at Minnesota Limited.  Technically speaking we have been doing oilfield roustabout work out here in the patch, putting in gathering systems and oil pad work.  And the day finally came in the slowdown where my number was up.  My guys were going to Indiana.  And the hall has other plans for me.

     Nevertheless, Penguin Lodge is thriving and will continue to thrive.  We have a sign now.  We began to add wildlife food plots for deer and turkey and grouse and deer, and ducks and geese and deer.  We acquired an old tractor, and resurrected some farm implements.  Reloading ammunition has become a new topic around the dinner table, and the boys continue to do extensive work on the rifle range.

     So they day came and I had to leave, but it wasn't like really leaving because Williston is like going to another home.   Nevertheless I felt anxious.  So I get to leave the forest and explore the the Great Plains and the Wild West once again.  And fate landed me back in Williston with my lovely wife and amazing Brenda. Along with our two almost and wannabe dogs JoJo and Java who greet my at the door everyday when I come home with the enthusiasm of Fred's but not enough size to knock me down,  A routine has been established, and I sure feel blessed to be in the situation I'm in.  I'm safe, comfortable, and not getting and smaller around the belly.

    Sign up day came.  I orientated into the Dakota Access Pipeline Project.   One that will go down in the books.  I ran into some old friends, Butch, Mardy, Tony.Sent on the front end this time, mowing brush.  Got a call from some other old friends.  They're working on different spreads.

     I got to machine, checked everything out,
I noticed something familiar out on the road, It was too windy to hear a voice, or sense an aroma.  Everyone wears a white hardhat and green vest. but it was a person, an unforgettable smile from someone that you have shared a special kind of connection with.  Then the smile walked over because he knew it was me. And when we got close enough to remove all doubt, he spoke.

     "Buenos Dias senor Thomas,!  I'm already sick of these stinking cold burritos."
     I replied, "I'm tired of the warm baloney on white bread too."  It was 12:08.  We exchanged our lunches, and caught up as much as we could before he had to grab his signs and flag me across the road.
     Jose Carlos Jimenez is back in North Dakota.  We are working the same spread once again.  I am an operator he is a laborer.  And I knew he was alright, And I was alright,  For I know not my bosses on this new job with this new company and because Jose was there with his smile and out normal friendly exchange that not much has really changed

Philippians 4:6-7English Standard Version (ESV)

6 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

The Song

     Christmas season came fast and furious out on the line this year.  And we had vacation plans.  Fortunately  the the outcome wasn't planned.
     The beautiful Brenda had time planned in Cody, Wyoming.  Our plan was to spend six days there and visit her kids and take in the sights, and laugh celebrate Christmas, and listen to the bumps and bruises of grand kids, and eat good food,  and then say goodbye, and plan for it again.
    Then we were going to spend about the same time up in Penguin Lodge via Middle River, MN.  And spend some time in the woods, and play with the kids, and fish, and eat and laugh and have a little gift exchange, you know the whole Christmas new years shebang!
   But my work had different plans and i had to cut Wyoming short by a few days, zip up to Minnesota for only a few days, and head back out on the line near Tioga, ND on the 29th. Listened to lots of holiday music  in the 25 hours on the road.   It could have been worse.
   So during our time in Cody, we took in the Cody Museum.  Wow!  I enjoyed the gun collection and the Buffalo Bill stuff.  Then I heard the song of the wolf and was particularly drawn to the museum of natural history and the wolves in the Yellowstone section.   It seems the debate in the mountains is the same as the one in Minnesota.   The wolves (designed to hunt and kill) are struggling to share space with sportsmen and ranchers.    The wolves actually don't get a say in the situation.  It;s actually people (naturalists and conservationists) taking the side of the wolf claiming they restore balance in pristine wild places fighting with sportsmen and and ranchers trying to raise livestock for profit and hunters claiming not enough game to hunt creating a polarizing debate.
     So the news in the Rockies is the same as it is in the flat lands.  But that's not the good news.   Better news came later in the week when my daughter Gracei came out west to the Patch to spend the rest of her vacation with us.  Hunter and Mom came out on Friday to spend the weekend with us too.   And it all worked out better than I could have planned it, and perhaps even better than Brenda the planner could have planned.
     I got to spend a day on the lake with my Thomas and Dakota, and they claim the fishing is good, and will keep an eye out on my fish shack for me.  Skylar and Haley came for dinner too.  What a blessing.   All good news from the line.  Still no word from Jose Jimenez, last I heard he was on a project in Africa. I did see him in the background of a reporter coming off a plane  in a Fox News Ebola scare story.  Passing news.
      But I can't top the Good News, the reason for the season.  And Yes! Joy to the world!  And even with all the sacred and secular joys and songs I attempt to sing during the holidays,  nothing more moves me than the song of the wolf.  Nothing more stands the hair on my arms and neck or gives me goosebumps than their songs and harmonies.   First one, then another then the others.  In the pines and over the next hill and river valley,  heard and not seen, like us designed for a reason.  Perhaps they were here before us, like it says in the Bible, maybe; the evolutionists claim is true then the wolves did come first. Another polarizing debate which unarguably come to the same conclusion that they did come before man,  And if that is true, I can not help but emphatically add that the wolf was like man was designed to make a joyful noise and lift their voice to Heaven. Man thinks. Animals just do what they are designed to do.  And perhaps maybe it was the wolf who taught man to sing.  For the song of the wolf is so beautiful and deep and has stood the test of time,  and in its song words and melodies so intense that the snowy headwaters of the the Mississippi weep, the invisible walls of the arctic tundra not fathom, nor the Rockies baffle thier resonance.   Of all the creatures whomelse's song is worthy of imitating?  Perhaps that howl was first song. Maybe we stole their song and are too jealous and prideful to give something back or share credit? The Good news is we are who we are and all belong to God.  And the only question is what would God have us do about it.

Oilfield Trash? HMMMMM

    James 1:10  But the one who is rich should take pride in his low position because he will pass away like a wild flower.

 I watched her walk down the aisle, escorted kindly by her son, Bob, and Duane, her dad.   Instead of carrying cookies or a pan of hot dish she was carrying a bouquet of pink roses and daisies.  Instead of wearing slacks and a sweater, she wore a knock out white dress, and white stilettos on her feet which no way came close to elevating her stature to the size of her character.  Brenda and I got together in front of God and our families in Fairview, Montana on Saturday and got married.
     The night before I was visiting with 3 of my sons.   They were proud to be in Williston.  They were awed by the traffic and sights.   In many ways it wasn't so much different than the home they are used to, but they sort of came to an understanding of what is happening out here, with the fracking of oil shale, the jobs and the economy it is creating.  My son Dakota proudly and humorously displayed a hoody and sweatpants touting "North Dakota....  Bakken.... Oilfield Trash."
      It was right after many laughs, we went down to the pool for a quick splash.   When I opened the door to the pool, I was instantly greeted buy the sound of Mariachi music, the smell of cumin infused food, and the unmistakable laugh of an old friend.   "Buenos Noches mi amigo," exclaimed the unique familiar voice of no other than Jose Jimenez.  We exchanged a few handshaking formalities.  I offered him pizza and he gave me one of his delicious burritos.   I never did quite understand how or why he was at the hotel, the same as mine.  It was just good to say hi.   Go figure!
    Today, i dropped Brenda off at the school where he works, and I will soon go to pick her up.   I worked on the laundry, some business, and finally got a chance to blog a few thoughts.
     Today I was thinking about the first time I had left for Williston this fall.  I specifically remember the wild daisies by my mail box.  How quiet it was when I left... and when i returned both to Penguin Lodge this Fall and to Penguin Terrace this Winter in my new home.   A lot is happening.  Domestication... Life.  A lot is happening here too out in the patch and on the line...  families are still getting together for celebrations, still going to work,  still worrying about grandmas,  still coming together before God and following Him.
      The daisies in the bouquet may wither, and the ones by the mailbox may be dormant,  but the last I heard Jesus is not on the cross anymore because He is alive and with us.     To others we may be oilfield trash, but to people like me we are all just a bunch of God's children  trying to be in the Bakken.

The Reunion

         

2 Corinthians 5:17 ESV /         

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.

    
    
     I got home after a few projects.  
No parties, no big celebrations, just coming home after a season in the Bakken.    I can't describe the feeling I had driving home.   I wasn't coming home to a messy house at least in the cluttery sense or my family relationships.  The kids had been calling and saying, "Dad!  We are coming over."  
So I get to spend quality time with the kids. YAY!!!    I get to see my Bill W. and Dr. Bob friends, and they are ok.    I get to reconnect with my friends at First Lutheran.    Then, I have been making plans with my hunting buddies brad, Ryan and Ralph and a few others, like my brother...  He wants me not to stir the pot with them, especially Bradley who has it coming for getting his name in the paper for doing stupid stuff this summer.
     It's nice getting reacquainted with my home at Penguin Ranch.   I don't like reorganizing my closets, its not easy for me to do.  Its an ADD thing.  I can be putting pants on my shelf and with three pair on the bed, I suddenly realize that I am outside by the well house wiring in the electricity to the well house heater, so I go back in the house and do dishes.  later that day I go upstairs to clean the bathroom, and when I see my pants on the bed,  I say to myself, "Oh yeah,  I need to ...go wash my socks."  Somehow, sometime before bed time, I see that my pants willed themselves to the closet when I was making meals for the kids and doing kitchen duties...  I'm telling you!
     New projects: not at the moment.  But the teen rocket scientists of my residence are building an ice fishing shack out of my camper...  doing a great job too by the way.  My initial doubts have been shattered.  
      Now here is the kicker.  Going back to the Bakken on Thursday.   The puzzled reader would ask, "Why with all this good stuff would he take off and go right away?"   The answer is quite simple.  I leave early Thursday morning on the Empire Builder from Grand Forks to Williston.   There I will reunite with my Williston group of friends and spend a delightful evening with the beautiful Brenda.  Friday afternoon we depart from Williston in her cute little Pontiac to spend an awesome weekend bonding through Christ planning on and deer camp at Penguin Lodge.... planning an awesome life together.   I love her. 

  In one year everything has changed, it hasn't been always easy or fun, or full of laughter, but through the salvation of Jesus Christ it has been worthwhile,  and that has what has made the difference

Camp Life

Romans 12:10 Love one another with brotherly affection. Out do one another in showing honor

      It has been an interesting summer.    Been on two jobs with three companies.  Many of the guys are like me ,  out here on a pipeline, some new faces and some old.  
     I was making dinner last week.  I was enjoying a little bit of peace and quiet.    Then someone came into my hovel.  I was getting a new roommate.    Something seemed familiar with the way he came in and I recognized the voice, but something had changed.  The clean cut Hispanic man was now sporting longer hair wrapped neatly in a pony tail.  I immediately recognized the big smile behind a full beard and moustache.  "Oof Da Tomas," exclaimed the friendly voice.  "You not been eating vegi burritos, have you."  The only voice it could have been poking fun at my tummy was none other than Jose Jimenez.
     We exchanged stories of our families, caught up on our latest adventures in the Bakken oil patch, and sat down and shared a meal.  It was just like working together last winter.  I fixed a little something and he made a little something.
     Lately my weekends consist of getting details worked out with  the impending marriage to the beautiful Brenda.  Jose goes on adventures with his Latino friends.  Its all good. When I return back to the man camp on Sunday nights, Brenda has my cooler loaded full of goodies for the week.  I have found that Rice Crispy bars, chocolate chip cookies, and apple crisp are good barter for a plate of spaghetti, or an occasional burrito.
     Brenda has been introducing me to people in her community and my new friend Eric gave me a shirt from the Williston High School band.   I am scheming on something to show him  that he is a friend.  I like the guy, a rarity out here, a fellow democrat... I hope.  Of course there are others on my backfilling crew.   
     I ran into a fellow that I worked with on my first pipeline job... a sober guy who seen me go back out after 13 years.  It's amazing how things work out.  He's seen me sober again and had almost lost hope figuring I would never come back to sanity.    
    Today I am grateful that I was sane when I met my friend Jose and others that I have met during the last year... they are much easier reunions than those I bump into out here on the line than those that have seen my sick and crazy.   For them, I had nothing real and  to give. And that is what  they remember , and makes it hard for them to accept boundaries.  Boundaries are important in a mancamp in the Bakken.
  
    

Unsensible

     Sometimes when Jupiter is in-line with Mars, and when the moon is in the third phase crazy events shape and mold our lives in obscure ways.   I often wonder what puppet master is controlling the Universe to his egotistical delight.  Superstitious as that line of thought is, it is also insensible.  A person of the scientific natue may agree with that statement, but I am not scientific, for science hasn't cured anything with my crazy life, or made anything alright.  So only spiritual reasonings can justify the things that make sense in mhy life today.  For me life changing events are in overdrive, but in my life lately they seem to be on cruise control.

     I made it back out on the line last week.   What a change it has been from the world of my home.  No more sleeping in.  Putting gas in the tank more often.   Dealing with co-workers.  I even get to see my fiancé more often.  Also, I don't get to see the kids as much, and that is a big change, even though we talk as much as they want to, and often.

     Nevertheless, the biggest change that I see is the one of recognition of myself as one of God's children.  I had a hard time describing or putting into words what I was feeling with all this change.  It wasn't a bad thing.   I just felt a need to acknowledge it, to pin it down, to name it, perhaps to own it, or at least apprehend it so that I could comprehend it.
     Then today it happened, or actually it began yesterday.   I was at the Roosevelt Park zoo in Minot with Brenda on Thursday.  what a great place to go and just hang out, and talk about things.   Yes, we have even more to talk about lately.  Yep, that's right... getting hitched. 
     Anyway, two exhibits really caught my attention.   The giraffes and zebras and huge cats were way so cool, but it was the North American animals that  captivated my interests.    First stop was the wolves.   It was neat to see how shy they were, yet in the the presence of full awareness.  they constantly paced the boundaries of their fence, and when seemingly frustrated, they crawled into their den. It wasn't like watching wolves in the wild, and I have been blessed to see them play in the wild and watch them play, and wished I had that wild freedom.
     The second stop that grabbed me were the bears.  Grizzly Bears.  They seemed so much like beggars, and selfish fighting for theirs space.     Just longing to be on the outside.   To me,  they were wild animals and shouldn't be in a cage, yet they were provided for, in good health,  and , yet just not happy.    It  seems that people have the tendency to project their emotions onto animals, and we want to think they were not happy, when as far as a wolf or bear goes, they had all the could need.
     Today out on the line, we were working through some rancher's cow pasture.   Low and behold, fences seemed to keep getting in our way.   We have to open them to get out machines through, and close them right away behind us to make sure the farmer's cow's don't get out through the hole we make.  You would think it wouldn't make a difference when half the calves are running outside the fence anyway it seems.  Some of the critters  spend half their day trying to get back in like this one calf who paced back and forth for three hours trying to get his way back into the fence to be with the others.  
    It is all part of the job and we do it anyway.   Then it dawned on me.  Psalm 23 says, "He leads me to green pastures."   Before  I was like a wild animal,  resenting boundaries and seeing myself as a caged wolf or bear.  One who did not belong with others of domesticated variety.  Now  that I define myself as a child of God, I see myself as more like that stray calf, having tested the realm of the world outside the fence.  I long to get back in with others like me, a member of the human-race, the Beloved.  And it is within these boundaries that one finds true freedom and happiness.  As a wild animal the thought of it all would seem unsensible.
     Today  I got up early, went to work,  paid my bills, drove the speed limit for the most part, helped others around me,  I gave thanks for what I had,  I told the people that mean the most to me that I loved them.     I kept myself clean,  and I am grateful that I  see 44 when I never believed that I would live to see 30.  Thank you God for making me your child, and for the pain and scars of the barbed wire when I slipped back underneath the fence.
    

       

The Call

     I got a call from Jose Jimenez on Saturday.  "Hola, Tomas.  I goin' back to workm but its not a good deal."  He explained how we wouldn't be staying in a mancamp this season, but a hotel...
     Not a good deal?  I guess I could think of so many people that have not had a good deal.  I myself have been down that road of not thinking I was having a good deal at the moment: fend for my own meals, more miles to drive.  About that time I begin to think exactly how spoiled rotten I am and have been over the last few months and truly blessed.  I think of all the people who have lived out West and not had such a good deal.
     On Saturday I visitied Fort Buford and Fort Union near Williston, North Dakota.  I attended these sites of historic profoundness in awe and wonder with my beautiful companion Brenda.  She being more familiar with the area acted as my guide.  At Ft. Union an old fashioned Rendezvouz was happening.  Furs, old tools and dress, harsh living quarters, with a hint of Bourgoise presence and human refinedness made me reflect on this idea of human dignity in in the harshest primitive conditions in a time period when nothing was certain.  I particulary let my ear wander to the sound of a a drum and a Lakota story-teller.  The man spoke and sang in a small crowded room in the corner of the fort opposite the Bourgoise house.  How fitting and contrasting the two ideas of richness.  Yet I felt at ease in either setting.
     After some time at Ft. Union, we moved down the road to Ft. Buford.     More military than fur-trade historics, it hit me and I felt the presence of something much greater than the happenings of the Bakken.  I imagined what it would have been like to be doing about my business one day when over the hill came a band of 168 Lakota people, warriors and families, hen hearing an order to disarm them and take their horses. 
     I imagined Sitting Bull the leader of these people handing his 5 year old son his rifle and explaining to the commander and the press that the buffalo were gone, the nomadic way of life was gone and it was the responsibility of people like the commander to teach this boy something, to educate him because as far as sitting Bull was concerned, he only knew one way to educate a child and from that day forward, it would be pointless to try and teach him the ways of survival in the new way.   He only knew his way.  On Saturday, June 15, 2013  I walked where Sitting Bull walked,  and I sat in the room where he surrendered his rifle.   I looked out the same window where Crows Foot gave the commander his father's rifle.
     The Bakken, invaders, manifest destiny, imminent domain, mineral rights, land owner rights,  expansion,  progress, technology.... Change!
     I wonder in great awesome thought, what has really changed over the last 130 years.  Men all the time wonder what it is that they should educate their children in.  It beguiles me to think of what an education is today and what it should be, what kind of society we are building for our children?   Should it be the path of secular humanism, college, new age scientific dynamics? What path should I point them down. God knows how often I have stood where where the two roads diverge.  Then as I reflect on the changes in my life it hits me so simple so precise.  What if we just teach our children  to walk, to walk where Jesus walks.
     "I'll see you out there on the line my friend Jose, if not this one maybe the next one."

Hillbilly Recipe

     It's been real nice lately being around a kid, not just any ordinary kid, but an onry 15 year old active boy.  One night at supper, he was quite critical and animate about the table venue.   Myself, being perhaps just as onry at times, decided that he could cook his own supper from now on.  I, being a little more accustomed to palatable table fare, allowed only one evening of  chef boy-ar- Hunter with plenty of ketchup. That isn't working very well either. Perhaps it was a guilt complex that maybe I wasn't giving my best, or that maybe a thought came I should get out of the box of  hillbilly cooking methods and try make something  more delictable to the customs of a hungry growing teen. Nevertheless, I found myself looking for a cookbook.  I thought maybe one night tater tot-hot dish would suffice.
     I went through a change of life recently, and for the love of all good things i will not expound on the details of searching high and low in my kitchen, through boxes in the house, through crevasses of the mind and soul, but I could not find a cookbook on my property to say politely as trying not to offend light eared readers, and not to revert to character defects of an untamed tongue and the mind of a uncouth hillbilly; but, I could not locate a cookbook to save my part of the body that cushions a seated pose.  I was explaining this to a friend of mine in frustration and laughter of the details of missing cookbooks from my home.  We decided that cookbooks do not belong to hillbillies.  And either a hillbilly can get by without one, or if he can not then he must lose a degree of status among the uncultured and unkempt life of fellow hillbillies.  After all, it would be poor to admit that we might actually use a written recipe or need one sometimes.
     I must share with the reader our next conversation of oral proportions.  I must also confess that men, especially hillbilly men actually share recipes.  Yes, ladies do not monopolize the recipe sharing world.  Single guys need to eat something different every so often and we do enjoy eating and eating well and we must share something with our fellow hillbilly buddies so that they should not suffer of get bored with with singleness of purpose  food.  So my friend shared with me his recipe in hillbilly dialect his version of potato soup:
     "You take a kettle like this one (grabbing a 4 quart sacepan).  You fill it about up to here( pointing about 2/3 toward the top) with potatoes and onions.  You can add some gralic if you have some around.  Cover with water and boil a long time.  After you boil it a long time, you can add some meat: bacon, ham or sausage.  Summer sasusage even works. Turn the heat way down(simmer).  Then you add a good goober(1/3 to a1/2) of sour cream or chip dip if you got it.  Add a smaller goober(1/4 to 1/3 cup) of ranch dressing.  Add cream to thicken it up, and milk to get it to the consistency that you want. Do not boil! jus let it simmer.  When the meat and everything is good and hot, add a good handful of grated cheese(any kind) on top.  Do not stir.  As soon as that is melted, dish it up."
     Be it male understanding, or hillbilly bonding, this recipe made very good sense to me.  I take no offense to one who whose noggin is baffled or perplexed.  Perhaps the reader is not hillbilly enough to comprehend simple explanations and may require a more scientific standard written down recipe.  And that is ok.  I personally extend my condolences.
     As for supper tonight I can cook using wither the hillbilly method, or a traditional recipe card method.  Either one will get my tater-tot hotdish in the oven.  As long as I mix in a dash of understanding, and a few shakes of respect,  a goober and a half of compassion  and a few sprigs of tolerance,  a bunch of love and a teaspoon of patience,  dinner will go just fine as it normally does.  I have to admit that it would be nice if having a kid in the house came with a recipe that turned out every time.  Bless my table Lord and we thank Thee for Thy gifts.

Laid Off

     Being laid off stinks, plain and simple, especially for me. It isn't the lack of income.  I got a couple dollars saved for a little bit.  It's the ," what should i do now" thoughts that come to my head.  Believe me when I tell the reader that my mind is sometimes not a good place to go exploring.  Here are the top 5 genius ideas I have generated since I have been home.

5.   Kick a 21 year old kid out of my house because he wants to drink beer and won't come with me to church.  No discussion just put on the old size 13. Boot! Bam!  Come back when you want to get it right. 1 John 4: 7  Beloved let us love one another.

4.  Invite some old buddies over for coffee.  Are you kidding me... coffee,  they don't drink coffee, and neither do I.  Better yet invite them all over for some male bonding and see if anything is different this time.  Or how about better yet: Go down to the local watering hole and see what they are still up to!

3.  Take a road trip.  Oh yeah, that might require some planning and a destination. The last time I took a road trip I didn't come home for a few weeks, not that it was all bad, but I just don't remember it.  The movies The Hangover,  Road Trip, and Animal House about sum up that experience.Galatians 5:21 Envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

2.  Tear apart the house.  That's right.  I already did that and put it back together.  I have already completely rid my home of the essence of unclassy femininity with extreme prejudice.  My best friend says I have to say it this way.  Like I am better? Rom 3:23  For all have sinned and fall short of the Glory of God.

1.  Overhaul my home with new appliances and gadgets. The kitchen could use a few things. New microwave, fridge, stove.  Oh and I wouldn't be in vogue unless i had a toilet bowl fish tank.  Why not a new t.v. computers. While I am at it, a brand new truck.  Might as well then build a garage.   Since I am at it, I should add on a 3 season porch right now....Romans 12: 2 Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.
   
     Differentiating between genius and insanity is hard.  Genius getting the ideas, and insanity would be acting on them and expecting a positive result.    ( Acts 26:24-25And as he was saying these things in his defense, Festus said with a loud voice, “Paul, you are out of your mind; your great learning is driving you out of your mind.”  But Paul said, “I am not out of my mind, most excellent Festus, but I am speaking true and rational words.)  Obviously even great people had problems with thinking too.
    In lieu of the grandiosity, those thoughts come to pass quickly now days.  Thank God!  Coming home has actually been serene.  Card game in the evening with Hunter...  Playing catch with Gracei...Talking of the future season with Skylar...  Visiting with friends...  Visiting mom and grandma...  going through pictures... making plans to visit my lady Brenda...  paying the bills... hauling kids around... Attend church...Swamp time with Ryan and Dakota... Spending time in prayer and meditation feeling God's presence.  Talking things out with like minded people.  Blog.
     Fortunately,  I can recognize my own strange thoughts now, have peace with my life and have something called Faith that just lets me know things are o.k. and as exactly as they should be even when I get toxic thoughts.  (Romans 5:1 Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.)
     Guess being laid off isn't so bad.  I think a coat of paint in the kitchen will be just fine.  After all in the big picture, I am just living right now in an overgrown hunting shack, on a piece of overgrown hunting land, during another hunting adventure called life.

   

The Big Picture Painted in a Little Swamp

     Today  I travelled out to the swamp.  It's not a swamp like Hollywood would portray; rather, a junk of overgrown prairie mixed with oak savanna on glacial till ridges, mixed with boreal deciduous and conifer.  In between these ridges lies small tracts of peat bog, willows, slough grass, and cattails.   For those who know me that is where my family hunts whitetail deer.  What we were doing out there was scouting for next season.   The details are secret.  These secrets are a common courtesy that all avid deer hunters would not dare ask for they know what we were doing and would be impolite to ask any more details of where and exactly what, and how.
     We travelled on snowmobiles down abandoned roads and logging trails.  Funny thing is that this area northwest of Middle River has never been logged.  Since the arrival of the white man it probably has never been burned off enough.   Every time i go back to the swamp, I travel back in time.  I travel to a time when life was maybe simpler.  A time when immigrants took a few deer and grouse for a staple.  A harsher time than now when people cut a few cords of wood to burn in pot belly stoves to keep a small house comfortable if someone would tend the fire a couple times in the middle of the nights.  This time also included no electricity and people actually took the time to write a letter back to Norway by light of a kerosene lamp instead of shooting off an e-mail.   It is hard for me to imagine such a time in history, but I like to, and some parts of my life i have even tried living out  a fantasy of trying to live in old ways, actually earning a good portion of my income in the winter months by trapping fur.
     But what enthuses  me most are the kids.   I find myself telling stories to these kids of places in the swamp where we got a big buck or saw a bear or wolf one time.  Today one of my sons was telling me stories of his hunt while I was out on the pipeline this year.  We had scouted all summer and decided to place an observation post near one of our sacred hunting spots, "The Tamarack Strip."  Last November he called me with great enthusiasm to tell me how his planning had paid off.  my heart soared knowing he loved to tell the story and today he retold it to his fellow hunters young an old out in the middle of the swamp.
     We ended the day with a comradely run race of snowmobiles all the way from the corral to the cabin.  Yes the swamp atmosphere can get competitive.
       Today was a little different for me.  Nothing has changed really out in the swamp.  Yet, I never get tired of it or bored.  I was feel like I belong there, but the trees didn't seem to be dancing as lively.  I never grow tired of this swamp and I have not learned all its secrets, yet although the swamp was welcoming me home so to speak, it was almost as if the willows were mourning knowing I would be departing again. 
     When I go out to the swamp I often pray, " Heavenly Creator, whose voice I hear in the wind...."  Today the wind was more of a gentle breeze and the voice more of a whisper,  "Peace I give you until I see you again. We missed you, will miss you and we will welcome you again."
     Times change, but the core of the soul doesn't.  In the big picture, my adventures, my scouting may not always be a swamp.  It could be the gorges of White Earth Valley, Mouse River, or possibly the bluffs of the upper Missouri and Yellowstone River in Western north Dakota.  The adventurer in me takes mental notes of how I would hunt the open plains versus the confined forests.  It pulls on me the thought of hunting different deer, possibly antelope.  My soul seems to be shifting.  I owe it to those like me that have come before and similar hearts that are coming and have yet to come, to take on this new adventure with enthusiasm and the spirit of the hunter and explorer. 
     The big picture seems to be opening up many new doors and at the same time not slamming old ones shut.  Closing windows that lead in and down and leaving windows open that lead out and up.  It almost that time to to explore the big picture of my life as it is with its serious endeavors also,  and welcome any changes that may come.  I can not ignore the voice I hear when out on the Great Plains, during this time in America's history during this time of great change, "Come!"

Got an email from my friend Jose Jimenez today.

April 1, 2013

Hola Tomas,
     I made it back to mi casa ok.  Uff Da! What a drive man.  Still no green grass here and Peace Willow and Rainbow Joy are really itching to play some softball.  So  gringo, green we will go.  ha ha !  Heading to Albuquerque to see my dad and shag a few balls for the girls.  
     Dad will be leaving soon for Antarctica to catch the end of summer there.  Sounds like the hatch has been good with the penguins , but there seems to be a shortage of fish. So he is a little concerned.
Him and mom fight all the time about about this climate change thing.  Penguins more promiscuous, and prosperous, but the food supply seems to be running low for the little birds.  To me I cant figure out if penguins are a bird or a fish.  They both swim. They eat other fish, but a penguin has a beak, no? 
     Anyway Muchas gracias for the burrito the other day it was good, but i like more chicken and less beans.   We should still try to get our girls together for them to play some ball.  should be about another week here, but we are going to fly down to New Mexico anyway this weekend.

Hasta la vista....
Jose


April 4, 2013

     Buenos dias my friend.  No grass here either, just snow.  Gracei was just expressing to me her frustrations also about the conditions of the field where she plays.  and by the way many thousand thanks for the sandwich.  I don't particularly care for white bread, but the extra corned beef and cheese still made it delightful for the palate.
     It's funny you mention penguins.  My dad once built a fence for penguins.  He even talked about raising them.  Some people tell me that he actually did have some at one time.   So i really like hearing about penguins and would so one day like to meet your father.  
     I made it home too, and it is nice to have a little time off to be with the kids.  Been cleaning house in more ways than one you know.  So amigo,  stay in touch!  Good to hear from you.    I truly believe that God puts people together for a reason, and it is usually for a season or a lifetime.  Truly my brother, I hope our reason is for the latter.

truly
Tom

This Little Light of Mine

     "This little light of mine,  I'm gonna let it shine."  I remember as a child singing the song with confidence and enthusiasm.   As I got older I joyed in the little kids singing it in front of anyone.  Catchy tune, good words, simple tune make this song a favorite among youngsters.
     Some people live it and in others the light becomes dimmer.  Some you know the light is there but don't always see it.  I was in a friend's house the other day.  One of the rooms had a lighthouse theme. The walls had pictues of light houses and the shelves had little light house figurines.  It made me wonder why this person was into lighthouses so much.  When I asked her she didn't know.  On the way home it dawned on me.  
     A lighthouse  has its light shining all the time.  During the day we can not see it very well. Humble, they may just appear to be another building standing tall with a certain purpose to stand tall and look unique.  Something which is good in itself.  But where a lighthouse really performs is on the darkest stormiest nights. When no one else is around looking they stand out.  They stand even taller and brighter when ships are in turmoil and look for the bright light in the darkness from miles away.
     Some people are just like that lighthouse.  Day after day, they are their standing with their light mostly unseen.  But when it is their time to shine  they stand out brighter than ever, guiding that ship and marking land's boundaries.   The land they stand on represents to the panicked passengers and crew need most.   On the stormiest of nights it is the boundaries we look for.  What we all want to come home and set foot on solid ground.  The lighthouse shows us which direction to go.
     I met a lady out here who is like a lighthouse, a short person in stature, but who stands tall in her walk of life with her constant light shining toward others.   Let it shine. Let it shine Brenda.  Let it shine.

Mi Amor

"Amid the gloom and travail of existence suddenly to behold a beautiful being; and as instantaneously to feel an overwhelming conviction, that with that fair form, our destinies must be entwined, this is love."  unknown

     Sometimes the glamor of the pipeline isn't so glamorous.   A guy left for home today and explained he was having family problems.Most the guys are from somewhere else.  My friend Jose Jimenez is from Racine WI.  Rather than talk about the sad situation of our fellow crew member, we decided to share about something positive. Today he was telling me about his kids.  George is expecting a rare butterfly from India,  Rainbow Joy and Peace Willow are sad because softball season has started and they are forced to practice in the gym still.  They can't wait to get out on the green grass.  Much like my daughter Gracei.  His wife is struggling with the hustle and bustle of shuffling the kids around.  The days out here get monotonous doing the same job all the time,  and the conditions don't seem to ever improve.  I like him am just getting tired and need a break.
    To break the monotony, we tell stories.  We share our lives with each other, our dreams, our troubles.  We talk about love.  I asked him the other day because I was curious about his family. His dad lives in Alamogordo, NM.  His mother lives in Thunder Bay, Ontario.  I asked how they met.
     Their love is interesting.  His mother is a climatologist.  His father is a research biologist.  She was studying climate change, and he was gathering reproductive data on penguins at a research facility in Antarctica.   Two intelligent people alone in a cold place.... Hmmmm.  They just knew.  Love at first beak.  As for him and his wife,  She belongs to the Menominee Nation in Wisconsin.   They met at a pow-wow at Thunder Bay where his mom is from.  His dad hasnt the time to get a passport so mom flies to New Mexico for the Winter.   They make it work.
     I tell him of my new love,  Brenda.  She is from Williston, and I am from Middle River.  We met at church.  She shows me around Williston, and bakes me cookies.  I shovel her sidewalk.  We make it work.  Jose likes her cookies.  He says they are better than "Mi Amor."
     Funny,  what guys talk about about over a baloney sandwich to break up the monotony, out here while energizing America.  Nothing is gloomy about love, a common ice-breaker out here on the line.  And it happens in the most unique places.


 

The Fear Road.

     This morning at about 5:30 a.m. I received a call from the boss telling me not to drive to work.  No, I wasn't run off.  We were in a blizzard again.  No pipe getting put in the ground today.  I don't like driving when I can not see.  It makes me afraid.
     There was much talk of the violence that occurred over the weekend.  Apparently, two men were killed.  One in front of a strip club.   The other  was stabbed right here at my camp.  Fortunately I didn't witness or know anyone who did.
     At breakfast yesterday here is what I saw.  I saw a small group of men and women smiling with their Bibles open.    Awhile later  I saw about a hundred people singing praise and giving worship.   I listened to a pastor challenging his congregation to invite people to come to church and to help build a place where all  would like to come.     I saw people sharing their testimony of their path to Christ.   I saw families welcoming others into their homes to share Sunday dinner, and elderly telling stories of life.  My how things have changed.
     Or have they?  People are still finding their way to Christ.   Families are loving one another.   God is moving in people's hearts.  There seems to be an odor of fear out here.    The news seems to project it anyway,  and I know it weighs on many hearts.   Weather, foreign people,  patchy pasts,  housing,  economics,  crime,  seems that's all the news reports.   When we live in our fears, let them control us, make decisions on them.  Its like keeping our blinders on in narrow focus.  We only see the negativity and the enemy tries to suck us in.  When we let our fears rest in God,  He gives us the power to open our eyes and see what is really going on.  This is the day that the Lord has made.  Let us rejoice, and be glad in it.
     The same paths are open to all.  We choose which one to take:  the path of the blind, or the path of  wakedness.   Fear- Gate A same old same old... Joy Gate B.  The world of countless possibilities.  The sun is out now,  I can see a little better.  Maybe my friend Jose Jimenez would like to take a drive back to town and  hang out for awhile.  He said he was looking for something special to bring home to his kids. 

Welcome to My World

     Welcome to my first ever blog.  What I will bring to the reader are tales from the Bakken oil patch....  the great things that are happening,  the trials of the men and women actually out here doing it, the sobering words from the people back home, and my friends "who have always been here." 

     It has been said, "Ain't nothing finer than a pipeliner."  My girlfriend would agree, but my two ex-wives may have a different opinion.   It's all good.   I'm not telling their stories.  These are my stories.  

     These are stories from real people, real lives, real outcomes.  I am just a heavy equipment operator out here, on the Tioga Lateral Project, a 12 inch pipeline,  going from Tioga to Sherwood, North Dakota. I am just one of the 10 guys on a coating crew. My story is typical of those who come out here.  We are all just coming and coming and coming to find a decent wage for an honest day’s work.  We come from Minnesota, Wisconsin, Oklahoma, Wyoming, North Dakota, Texas, and Tennessee.  It's a trip.

     The days are getting longer now, which is good and bad. It means home soon to be with my kids, but less money to do something fun with them. Got a message from the new grandson today,  he just was showing me a peace sign.  So I sent one back at him via Haley's phone or some other gadget.  Sounds like me and him will get to come home about the same time.  God has a plan.  He is already answering our prayers.

     I have met a good friend, Jose Jimenez.  Jose comes from an interesting background.  I feel that I must intimate to the reader his tales also and the friendship that is developing.  My friend Jose and I drove to Williston today. Did our usual, had a bite to eat, went to church and visited our friends. I have to go pick him up shortly and bring him back to camp. I invited him to attend church with me at New Hope Wesleyan. He declined because he didn't want to fall out of favor with the new pope. Figures he's got a clean slate with the new dude, so in the pope he hopes. Speaking of New Hope, wasn't that the name of the Star Wars original? Read in the paper today that there was an altercation the night my friend Jose went to town to pick up some guys from our crew at the bar. A man is still at large with a heart tattoo on his neck. I asked him if he knew or saw anything that night. He just said, “Uff Da ! Mi amo Jose Jimenez.... No hablo ingles. Soy trabajo,"