Paradox, Colorado

        Mid-March 2010- I penned those thoughts a little over two years ago.  It’s interesting to me how our lives change and circle back around.  How sometimes the things we desire most are the things we have to let go of in order to have what we need the most.  Our journey the last year has been like a camping trip in the Henry Mountains; Rough and rocky, worn, devastated but unconquered, and unimaginably beautiful.  I wouldn’t trade the time we’ve spent, the friends we have made, or the lessons we’ve learned for anything.

It has now been almost 2 weeks since we drove away from Paradox on a cold but clear March morning.  Two moving trucks filled with greenhouses and everything we deemed necessary to setting up a home in the Willamette Valley were parked in the frozen red mud of the yard, a Suburban and trailer, and one small, beat-up mini-van were loaded with kids and ready to roll away.  William and I and two of our best friends in the world, Mark and Michaela Larsen, stood together and looked around to see if there was anything we had forgotten.  We prayed for a safe trip, wished each other luck, checked to make sure we all had each others phone numbers, and climbed into our respective vehicles.  I was to drive point on the trip.  So with Ephraim in the front seat beside me and Esther Marilla Joy in her car seat in the back I set out down the long, red driveway to the highway.

I thought I was ready to leave.

I thought I had the need for leaving balanced with the opportunity of going in my heart.  I thought I was prepared to say good-bye.

But somewhere along the first turn of the winding road out of Paradox I heard a small sound and turned my head enough to see my precious little Marilla looking out the window with tears streaming down her face.

“Baby girl,” I called out to her, “What’s wrong?”

Her silent tears turned into full on sobs then as she cried out with all the anguish her little 5 year old heart could muster “I miss Paradox!”

“Oh baby, I know,” I told her, “But it’s going to be okay.  I miss Paradox too.  It’s okay to cry when you love something; it’s okay to be sad when you have to leave.  Just remember that we’re going to a beautiful place.  We’ll have a chance to meet new friends, see new things, and we’ll still have our Paradox friends.”

“But I miss Grandma Hayes!”  She wailed and started to cry harder.  It tore at my heart and I started to cry too, I didn’t even try to hold it in check.  I drove as slow as I could so that we could all look at the valley one more time.  “I miss Miss Rosie!”  The golden light of the sun was just creeping along the fields.  I heard another sob and looked over to see Ephraim wiping his eyes on his sleeve.  He turned to me, eyes drenched, and in all sincerity said “Now I know how those Oregon Trail pioneers felt when they had to leave their homes.”

I admit, I lost it then and there.  What a sight we must have been; all of us crying our eyes out, telling each other all the things we loved and would miss about Paradox.  “I want to tell Sister Redd she’s the best Primary president I ever had,” Ephraim sobbed.  “I want to tell Wayne thank you for the belt buckle.”  Marilla was in the back listing all of her “grandma’s” who had adopted her.  “I want Grandma Ellie, I miss Grandma Steele.  I love Grandma Redd.  I forgot to hug Sister Ayers!”

We passed Miss Rosie on the road just after we drove through the cut in the mountain and made our way around the first turn towards La Sal Creek canyon.  I tried to wave while I was wiping my eyes, I hope she saw the wave.  We waved at Mark and Amy’s house, I don’t think they were home at the time, but we thought of our friends as we drove past, and wished we would be there to help with Spring pruning on their fruit trees.

I really thought that leaving Paradox would be easier than leaving our Perfect Farm in Missouri.  After all, we didn’t own the farm or the house where we lived and labored.  That should make it easier, right?  It wasn’t any easier.  It was just as hard, just as heartbreaking, and just as necessary as the first move.  It’s just so ironic that in order to move forward to your biggest goals, your best potential, your greatest success,  you have to be willing to let go of who, where, and what you are now. 

I guess I know a little bit about how those Oregon Trail pioneers felt too.  I loved Paradox.  I was so ready to find “home” the first time I drove into that beautiful little valley, and there it was all spread out in green fields and towering red rocks.  It felt like home, even my son Enoch who had asked every week since we left Maryville, Missouri “when are we going home, Mom?” said as we drove along the grass covered roads “This place feels like home!”

It did feel like home, and we made it home for almost a year.  We were prepared to stay forever and we sunk our roots down fast and deep.  I don’t think I’ve lived anywhere else where the people understood the terms “neighbor” and “community” so well.  I’ve never been so cared for by my neighbors as I was in Paradox.  They were so full of love, generosity, and welcome it was staggering.  I’ve heard from several people that they don’t think Paradox will ever recover from the political unrest brought on by disagreements over the proposed Uranium Mill.  I disagree completely.  The people of Paradox are good neighbors because they choose to be.  They don’t let a disagreement over politics keep them from gathering together to work, worship, play, or serve.  They are a tough breed of people, dedicated to making their community thrive no matter what.  I love them and I wish we could have stayed longer.  I admire them, and I hope I can learn from their strength of will and character.  But mostly, right now in the “wee small hours of the morning” I simply miss them.  I miss their smiles, the surly way of speaking some of them had, the warm embraces of friends, and the simple joy they brought into my life.  I couldn’t stay in Paradox, but what I learned there will be in my heart forever.  I hope that I can take what I learned and be a better friend and a better neighbor where ever I may go in the future.

I’ve reached the end of my Oregon Trail, but at this point in my journey I don’t know if it’s the end of my travels or not.  But I do know this: no matter where your travels take you, plant your roots deep, hold nothing back in your relationships, BE the good neighbor, give everything you have to offer freely, serve without recompense, and love without fear.  You’ll find an abundance of friendship, support, and love in return.  This is living in Joy: to give everything you have away to receive everything you’ve ever wanted.  And isn’t that a paradox?