Bury my heart in Montana

I was out for an early morning trail run, thinking about how much I love Montana.  I mean, I love it here.  I first came to the Big Sky state to move to Lame Deer, on the Northern Cheyenne Reservation.  I had been working on DC’s Capitol Hill, and had competed for an opportunity to help this community lay the ground work for a food bank.  So I left my silk suits and heels on the East Coast and headed out in my 1982 Chevy Citation.

Wanting to establish a good reputation in Lame Deer I didn’t travel off the Res too much.  Sometimes teachers are hired for the school, but go out of town every weekend, not putting down roots.  My position was for only 6 months, so I wanted to learn and see as much as I could.  I learned that to be given a nick name was a good sign—and my long blonde hair plus same colored car earned me the nick name of Goldilocks.  At least my car kind of fit in.

This was my first trip ever to Montana and I was hooked.  That year I “helped” herd cows through the gorgeous badlands and prairie, went to pow wows, and made friends with several Northern Cheyenne people for whom I have great respect.  But this corner of Montana was just a sliver of this state’s greatness.

After a required move back to DC, a trip to Kenya and the inevitable, “now what should I do with my life panic?!” I had to be honest with myself.  I wanted to go back to Montana.

Now, coming from “back East” as they say here, Montana isn’t on anyone’s radar.  Maybe you might hear about a neat family vacation to Yellowstone, but this one zip-code state isn’t exactly code for “arriving” in one’s career.  It seemed like all my friends were living abroad or living in Manhattan (and I don’t mean Manhattan, MT).  While job hunting in DC's hot August, there was a two week series on PBS called “The West” by Ken Burns.  It’s romantic, historic, and I was smitten with the idea.  So when a position opened up in the Governor’s Office in Helena—I tried not to beg too overtly for them to hire me.  Fortunately, they did!

So once again I packed up the 1982 Chevy Citation that my New York cousins had learned to drive in, and headed West.  It- was- glorious.  With no FM radio in the car, there was plenty of time to swoon over the landscape and grow wild about my hopes for living in Helena.

Montana has not disappointed.  I love it here now as much as that first week waking up in the Mansion district (which was so cool as I rented the apartment sight unseen).  But this brings me to my current burial season.

Yes, as much as I love my friends here, met my awesome husband here and adore his ranching family, it’s time to bury my heart in Montana.   There’s parts of my heart that I must leave here for a time, to open up new space for a new love.

My growing love is for Bolivia.  While the sights, poverty, elevation, people will all be different, this place is capturing my imagination, passion and hopes for what God in His mercy will do through my family in the next 3 years.

So if I look nostalgic, I am.  I love it here.  But from a big sky to a big world, Bolivia is my new love.

       ~ Dana