Bears, Snakes, and Spiders, Oh My!

One of my favorite memories of Montana was also one that was almost comically, full of danger.

We went on a dinosaur dig, which my husband found for our dinosaur-loving six year old.
We left the mountains of Glacier Park behind us and drove about an hour and a half to more open, almost desert like badlands of Montana.

We passed Indian reservations, one lone gas station and lots of beautiful open spaces and more rolling hills.
We arrived at the headquarters and museum, in a thriving town, home to a whopping 51 people. We got in a dusty old van with a young college paleontologist who drove us another 45 minutes down dusty, gravel roads. As she did, she told us with excitement all about the area, its history and dinosaurs, and all that we’d find, deep into the heart of dinosaur country, in a state that we’d grown to love.

We pulled up, into a ranchers expansive land, where dinosaur bones had been found and excavated, and still more remained.

We stepped out into the wide open, and wild spaces, and the small group of us gathered around the two guides for our instructions. They were going to tell us what we should look for, how to find the actual dinosaur bones. But first, they’d have to start with the safety talk.

“See that butte over there? That’s actually home to the largest concentration of grizzly bears in the lower 48 states. They live and feed there and the surrounding stream and vegetation.”

Why there and not the Rockies we could see off in the distance. From the looks of this butte, it was nothing compared to the great glory of the pine filled mountains we’d left a few hours behind. And why so close to where we were going to be, I had no actual idea either. They had mentioned the bears back at the museum when Ted checked in, and so hearing it now was not exactly a complete surprise. But it still was a surprise generally speaking it was. We had left our two cans of bear spray back at the ranch, thinking that we were also leaving bear country.

Standing there, looking at that butte just a bit of way off, it was hard to believe that we’d actually come closer. The safety talk by our guides assured us that it was unlikely that we’d encounter one. But it was a possibility and we had to be aware, to listen for our guides, and worst case scenario, we’d all jump in the big metal van and drive away.

Gulp.

I looked around. Looked down down at my feet. Wondered what on this dusty earth was going on. I imagined what it might look like to see one here. We knew what to do in general. Might sound easy enough, for one maybe. Multiply that by a family a four including little ones, and it was not something I like to have to imagine.

But the safety talk didn’t stop there.
“We’re also in rattlesnake country. And this area is also home to lots of black widow spiders. Stay out of the brush, don’t stick your hands in any holes, and if you hear a rattle, alert one of us right aware.”

Double gulp.

The next part of the talk, I wasn’t listening. It’s not that I didn’t try. They talked all about what to look for in order to find the dinosaur bones. These treasures that we sought. As you looked among the rocks, you should look for this color, this shape, this texture, and a certain porousness (which could be tested by licking your finger and seeing if it stuck.) That part I heard. The rest of the instructions?
It was like Charlie Brown’s teacher in peanuts. “Wah wah wah wah.”

All I could think about was grizzly bears, rattlesnakes, and black widow spiders. While everyone was walking about, scanning for treasure, I was scanning the horizon, the bushes, the spaces around us that might hold the danger we were warned about.
The kids and everyone else set about looking. It appeared that we all did.

Ted looked at me after a bit and said, “what exactly are we looking for?”
“I sure don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention. All I could think about was bears and snakes and spiders. Ha!” I knew that he’d chuckle at me, and at my hesitation. It wouldn’t be any news flash for him to see that.

But I was finding it hard to concentrate on the task at hand when there was so much potential, deadly danger all around us.
I knew that chances were slight. But still, they were there.

I also know that my husband had excellent judgement and he would never intentionally lead us into any actual danger. If he was truly concerned he would have said so.

But I was left with this potential information and it wasn’t any fun. “Oh you of little faith” is all I could think, really, about myself. You might not know from the outside, I appeared to be doing what everyone else was doing. But inside I was wrestling with imaging the worst, preparing for it and trying not to let it overtake me.

It’s really hard.

I prayed of course. I went through the emotions. I tried to concentrate on the task at hand. I watched as my kids found some. I took delight. I didn’t loose heart. I didn’t find any snakes or bears or black windows. (Though our guide found one hiding beneath a bone we were all standing and hovering over.)

We found bones, we did. We walked to another area and found real fragments of broken black dinosaur eggs. Larger fossils had been taken from that area, including a whole nest of eggs. It was pretty wild and neat.

My kids got to keep one of the small dinosaur bone pieces they each found. I found none, of course, so there was that.
It was not without joy. No, not at all. It was worth it. But boy, it was a real exhale when we made it back to the car.
My kids fell fast asleep, my smile got a lot easier, and I scanned the horizon for bears, only now mentioning out loud that I’d like to actually see one.

It felt a lot like real, everyday life.

We’re on a hunt for something meaningful. We’re surrounded by potential danger.
We decide what we focus on, which decides and helps determine what we find.

Some can hear about danger without focusing on it. Some focus only on treasure. Some dance between the two.

Which one are you? I think you know which one I am. I dance. Oh yes I dance. I wish I didn’t. I wish I only could see the good and not ever worry about what might happen.

If only I could trust the Lord even more. Trust His judgement. Trust His ability to rise up and protect us. Just like I trust my husband.

And I do. Oh I do. Especially when I lean in.

In my spirit, I know that there’s good.
In my flesh, I wrestle with the worry.

Like a dance where I know and dance with them, both, only differently.

If only I could sign just the one dance card.
And when worries hand me their dance card, that I could just hand it right back. That there’s only one I’ll truly dance with.

When I feel foolish, and remember how I’ve danced before, with worries, and how I wrestled there in the open desert, maybe I’ll see now how it was a dance. And how much the better dance partner pursued me. And who I eventually did choose to lean on.

Though fears and worry came and kept coming to tap me on the shoulder- again and again- and invited me to dance, I looked around.

I shook my head only subtly at first, then more firmly.
And even as my knees felt like buckling underneath me or I felt weak with worry. Even then, I learned to lean on the shoulders of the One who held me. Of my Love who holds me still, and doesn’t want me to be afraid.
Though no evil or danger came near us, I leaned on Him. I know that He kept us safe. And I know that I’m learning with each step to dance, only better. This is training ground.
Desert or mountain. To learn to trust.

Though sometimes I’d like to skip right past the worry and get to the exhale. Like the journey home in that “metal box” of a van. All together with my family, danger far behind us. I don’t want to miss the good stuff along the way either. All the discovery we were meant for.

Even someday when I do have to face death and danger I do to cross over to eternity as we all do, I pray and trust that I’ll know then, just as I know now, but maybe even better- that He’s never left me and He won’t stop now.
He’ll reign as King and dance with me, forever. Right past all the snakes and spiders and bears. Nothing bothers Him and He knows that He’a got me.
I’m still failing and learning how to lean in and dance. But He’s never failed me. He won’t start now.

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26

And also 2 Corinthians 12:9
”Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.”

Each time.

I can dance on, because He’s dancing, there right beside me, and strong. Stronger still.