There Will be Peace in the Valley

It had been a summer—no, a year—of too much bad news, too much unrest, too much tension, worry and constant concern.  Inside me a spring was being wound tighter and tighter.  Some people deal with this by cursing, some by drinking, some be losing their temper or kicking the cat.  If you are raised Minnesota-Norwegian-Lutheran, you are not allowed any of those options.  You learn early that the proper response to stress is to keep your mouth shut and carry on.  You may, of course, pray; but even that needs to be brief, quiet and private.  Nobody likes a show-off.

            True to my roots, I looked as level as a pan of water on the outside, but inside I was leaning way to one side.  Something had to change.  Then, as if a gift had been given, there it was.  A surprise.  An opportunity.  A chance that only needed to be grasped. 

            It was almost overlooked.  My husband and I were taking a break from family visiting, celebrations and responsibilities to attend the FMCA Convention in Gillette, Wyoming.  We had been to Gillette before and it was nothing but pleasure.  A second bite at that apple was an easy “yes.”  While going through the packet of Convention materials we read, and almost discarded, a notice about a new retirement RV and home community north of Spokane, Washington. 

Spring Ridge Estates was offering FMCA members a free four-week stay.  There are lots of perks that come with being members of FMCA, but this one seemed almost too good to be true.  Full hook-ups, no sales pitch, no fees, we didn’t even pay for our electricity.  But the most important thing was a chance to be off by ourselves in a place where every choice and every hour would be our own—to spend or waste as we wished.   

            We called and got a three-week reservation in September.  The owner of Spring Ridge Estates met us when we arrived.  He made sure we liked our site, handed us a pile of brochures, gift cards and information then left with a last message.

“If you need help, information or want to talk, give me a call.” 

You might think that my next reaction would be an epiphany of Thoreau-like embrace of the great outdoors.  You would be wrong. 

What did happen was a gradual easing of my mind.  Getting set up for an extended period after a summer of dashing from place to place felt good.  Going for my power walk felt better.  Two things struck me on that first walk.  First there were birds.  Wild turkeys always make me smile and the mountain chickadee that decided to rest on our awning was pure pleasure.  Second, all the RV sites were hidden by enough pines and acreage to give a feeling of solitude, even though the sites were occupied. 

The people were friendly, but none of them intruded on others’ privacy.  Even the dogs didn’t want to leave their lots.  Like the people, they seemed content to smile, wave and settle back in to whatever they were doing. 

The first week was spent recharging my batteries.  Walks every morning, reading in the sun beside the RV every afternoon.  Happy hour with just the two of us watching the sun set behind the mountains to our west.  I didn’t notice that spring inside me unwinding, but it was. 

We took advantage of the information guides and made reservations for a train ride and a boat tour of Lake Pend Oreille (just over the Idaho border to our east).  All of it was good and to breath a free breath was pure gold.

Enjoy a quiet spot and keep the faith.