Wednesday, February 22, 2023

Ash Wednesday

I may have never covered a bronc in rodeo, but I never missed a mark-out and I never turned-out. Turn-out is when you've signed up for a rodeo, but don't show. They run your horse through the chute, call your name, and pull the gate letting the horse circle the arena without you on it. If I'm scheduled for Mass, I'll be there, even in the middle of a snow-apocalypse. 

My bronc of choice: Whitehorse. 

The roads were open heading to Moorcroft at 6am, but barely. 

Catholics are diehards for Ash Wednesday Mass. Jerry had the lot and walks cleared and we had a good two dozen for Mass. 

On to Wright in the afternoon. Hwy 59 was closed earlier but they got it open just in time for us to roll down. 

Instead of warming up during the day, it just got colder. 

Blessed Sacrament was drifted in. 

But we dug her out with great grandpa's scoop shovel. 

The Catholic Cowboy spirit is alive and well. 

That smile made all my journeys worth while. 

I love fighting for Mass. Jesus asks us to love the Lord with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. There's no better way to show that than by making every effort possible to get to Mass. It's gonna be a good Lent. I can smell it. 


1 comment:

  1. This storm has reminded me of the resilience and Weltanschauung of Wyomingites. Yesterday, in order to get to work, I fired up the old 07 diesel and drove downtown. I was impressed by how clear the roads were already, even though it was still quite early.

    A coworker was already at work when I got there.

    Following that, a couple of more Wyomingites came in.

    Then the texts started about how horrific the roads were and were we cancelling work. I noted the roads I'd travelled on were fine, and a coworker, a transplant from the urban Midwest, replied immediately that in his observation they were an undescribable disaster.

    Shortly after he arrived, another native arrived who had taken the same route in, but all the way from out of town. She arrived and thought the roads were fine.

    A matter of prospective, I suppose.


Father in Secret

Go contemplative.