Exactly
a month ago, I was sitting in a Denver coffee shop, trying to eek out words to
describe what I was doing and everything I was feeling, trying not to let my
fears and anxieties show through too much.
It’s hard to believe I’ve been here for a month now. Where has the time gone?
In
the month I’ve been here, we’ve had two sessions of students at the Ranch (yes,
Ranch. With horses and goats and
alpacas; and I wear jeans and flannel almost every day. So far, I’ve resisted wearing a cowboy hat; sometimes
I wear my baseball cap. More often than
not, I wear my boots, especially with the daily rain we’re now getting). At the Ranch, yes, there’s the barn and the Lodge
(and lots of mountain trails all around), and mostly we spend our time at the
Lodge, where we eat all of our meals and sometimes have “academic time” because
the students earn elective credit while they are here. And they do learn, about the natural history
of the area, about animals living on the Ranch, about leadership, about the
culture of the West, and, oh yeah, about themselves.
Mostly
what we do here is tell the students how much they are loved and how much they
matter and how they mean something in this big, confusing world. These kids come from all across California,
mostly from inner-city neighborhoods, where they spend their days out on the
streets, or taking care of younger siblings, or trying to escape homes where “love”
is as far away as the belief that they can make something of themselves. At the Ranch, we try to change that.
It’s
not summer camp. It’s not vacation. We have fun, no doubt about that, but it’s
not all fun and games. It’s a lot of
tough love. The tough part comes with
10-hour days, and living with the same people you work with, and I want to help
you, but you’ve got to learn to help yourself.
It’s when they wish they could stay here forever because it’s the first
safe place they’ve know in their 18 years of life; it’s when the biggest smiles
and most outgoing and loving hearts cry into your shoulder awful stories of
abuse and neglect. The love part is the
only response.
Of
the students that come out to the ranch, many have just flown for the first
time, most have never been out of California.
All of them, in lots of different ways, believe the lies society has
told them about their lives, their worth.
When the students leave the Ranch, they will have completed 5 academic
units, but they walk away with a lot more than that.
I
had no idea what I was getting myself into when I moved out here, out to a
small haven on the side of a mountain, and I don’t know if I could have found a
better place to be. Yes, the days are
long, exhausting physically and emotionally, but I don’t want to be anywhere
else.
On
the last night of each session, the students write letters to themselves. We mail them three months later, once they
get back to their lives outside of the Ranch, in hopes that they remember the
things we did at the Ranch, the love, the courage, the change, remember that the
joy is as real as the struggle. Las
week, I wrote myself a letter. Mostly,
what I write I’m too self-conscious of to share, but as it sits next to me, I
want to share it here; I can’t take it back, can’t dismiss it as false, now
that it’s out to the world. Before a bad
day makes me want to throw it into the fire.
Before I, too, succumb to the doubt that threatens to chase the love away.
October
1, 2015
Dear
Bridget,
Session 2 draws to a close. Never doubt that you matter, here and
now. Whatever emotions threaten to bring
you down, know deeper than that that every moment, every expression of love,
every embrace, this here is real. The
love that emanates, radiates from what we do here, this is real, these
expressions of love different than what you’ve known in the past, different
than the fairy tales, but no less important, no less valued, no less
needed. You love so hard. Because so many people have poured into you,
and that matters. You could not love like
you do without all the love poured into you; it changes expression, but never
the strength, the passion. Your story
isn’t the fairy tale story, but the love you share reaches the ends of the
earth. On days when it’s hard, remember
to also love yourself. You are radiant.
Love,
Bridget
Thank
you, all of you, for believing in me. You,
who tell me, in all your beautiful and unique ways, in some way or another as
we’ve shared our lives together, “I love you.”
I wouldn’t be here without you.
Wouldn’t see the sun’s radiant light as a daily shower of love over the
world, wouldn’t know deeper than words that this life is something special,
wouldn’t know the daily joy that manifests in more ways than could fill a
book. Thank you for making me who I am
today, I wouldn’t be here without you.
Sometimes the doubt and shadows threaten to block out the sun. Thank you for all the reminders, for all the
little manifestations of your love. I
hope that this can be a reminder to you, on those days for you. You have poured so much into me, I hope that
I can but give a fraction of it back.
Love,
love, love,
Bridget
