Badlands Day

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon in the Badlands. We arrived here from Edgerton, MN on Friday afternoon, and settled into the Badlands Ranch and Resort--which presently does not live up to its name, as it is not yet functioning for the summer. At first the woman in the office told me they did not have sites; but then she found one. The place is empty except for two families who are here working to get it cleaned up. They just changed hands, and the new owners haven't figured it out yet. Long story. But we are here.

Yesterday we went hiked and drove around the Badlands (I will try to get some pictures up here soon--am a bit behind with that, I know). Then, at lunchtime, my brother called to say that my father had passed away in the morning. So while the Badlands are fascinating and beautiful, it has added a twist of sorrow to our undertaking. He has been ailing for some time, and the week before we left he fell down the stairs, sustaining some brain damage. By the weekend he had improved, and my family encouraged us to go on our trip.

But on Wednesday he took a turn for the worse; and yesterday God called him home. By God's grace in Christ Jesus he is now beginning to experience a renewed life, the foretaste of the resurrection--the presence of his Savior. We mourn, and feel the loss, and it hurts very deeply; but we also know the hope of the gospel, for ourselves and for Dad.

Since then we have been processing what to do. We stayed here an extra day to do so--and to take a Sabbath rest today. I feel drawn to be home (and we will come home for his memorial service, which will likely be in two weeks). But having come this far, we also hesitate to turn back.

So tomorrow we plan to move on to the Black Hills of South Dakota. If Bertha can't handle the hills (she overheats--and the temperature gauge just stopped working, which we will have to get fixed tomorrow on the way), we may be forced to turn back--it is all mountains from here on out. But if she holds out, we will see Mount Rushmore, and bike the Mickelson Trail, Lord-willing. After that we will see.

We feel more than ever that we are in his hands--and that he will do all things well. In his providence our trip will be curtailed--and while that, too, is painful, we trust it will be well. This morning we listened to a sermon on Isaiah 42:1-9, which includes these words: "The bruised reed he [God's Servant, Jesus Christ] will not break, and the faintly burning wick he will not quench." The gospel is for the bruised and barely burning--and for that we are grateful.

So if you are reading this, do pray for us. And for others who are hanging on in life in much more dire straits that we are.