DAYS 77-79 - Bassett, Stuart & Atkinson, NE - 1509 miles from home

There are no accidents. And I don't mean that in some cosmologically potent way - as in, "everything happens for a reason." These days, as I move through space leading from my heart as much as from my head, I'm not sure that what we call "reason" is helping matters much. These days, reason won't ensure that neighbors get along: our starting assumptions, our sources of information, our boots-on-the-ground experiences differ so radically that finding common ground has become, at times, impossible. As a nation of different, increasingly (it seems) isolated communities - I don't think we're at a point where we can reason through our differences.

But we can feel our way forward. We can meet each other with empathy - at the level of the heart. We can cross the divides between us, step by step, with care and love.

And so, when I say "there are no accidents" it's because step by step, slowing things down to 3 miles an hour, I'm encountering things that just fit together. Things that make sense, that make the heart sing, and that have been there, perhaps, all along.

Perhaps it's just this: Nothing seems accidental or out of place when you move slowly enough! Even when you make what seems to be a mistake....

On day 78, I made just such a mistake. I got lost coming into Stuart, NE, where we were bunking for the night in the truly magnificent municipal campgrounds. The Stuart Park Campground features a rodeo arena, a playground, two bathhouses, a dedicated track, a stadium... and is ringed by memorial plaques and special trees, all planted in honor of loved ones.

I got off the Cowboy Trail to head into town, and then (I'll blame Google) got turned around, and somehow was heading back to the trail... Fortunately, I saw a local: a woman (Terri) in workout gear who was making serious time during her own afternoon hike. Terri offered to walk with me back toward the park. "I've got to get my miles in anyhow!" she told me, explaining that in a week the Cowboy 200 would be happening - a fabulous race from Norfolk to Valentine along the Cowboy Trail. She'd be walking the 100-mile version. Oh, just that! One-hundred miles in just 32 hours.

As I breathlessly clipped along with Terri to the campground, we talked about our backgrounds, about Liberty Walks, about Stuart, NE. Terri lives in Stuart, but works as a surgical RN in O'Neill. I shared with her my really gratifying and lovely experience with rural medicine in Arco, ID. People really took care of me, really took time with me, I shared. "Yeah, because you're a name and not a number," said Terri. "And that's true of me, too," she continued, explaining that she's lived in Stuart all her life, and her name is known.

Terri is a Kaup and indeed there are Kaups all over Stuart. The next day, as I was filling gas and buying goodies at the Southside Mini Mart, the lovely woman behind the counter asked me: "Did I see you walking with Terri yesterday?" Yes! Are you a Kaup, too? "No," she said. "But my mother-in-law is, and she owns this store!"

There are no accidents. As Terri and I approached the park on day 78, she returned the conversation to my background. "So you were the Covid chaplain at your hospital?" Yes, that was a hard time, I said. We all lost so much. "Especially the young people," Terri shared.

Our conversation rolled on a bit after that - me moving into topics I'd considered before about the collateral impact of the pandemic: increased isolation and alienation - especially devastating for youth. It took me a moment or two before I realized that Terri was sharing something important. I slowed down to listen.

Terri's son, Haden Kaup, was an indirect casualty of Covid. He took his own life after his first semester of college. "His high school class planted a tree in his honor, here at the campground."

Later that afternoon, I found Haden's tree. (By the way, Terri knows I'm sharing her and Haden's story.)

Last night, we met someone else who knows Terri: Pastor Wayne Owens of the Atkinson Presbyterian Church. Once again a faith community nourished us from our soles to our souls. The Atkinson church is a newer building; they recently sold their old historic building, with its limited accessibility for an aging population - and bought a single-level restaurant, converting it seamlessly into a spacious fellowship hall and sanctuary. It's so fitting that this church was once a restaurant, because once again we happy pilgrims were fed within an inch of our lives: hot dishes, amazing beef vegetable soup, extraordinary apple pie and apple cake (oh my goodness, these local apples! this local beef!)... and much laughter... including numerous variations on the phrase "pulling a calf."

I didn't understand the phrase at first. Doesn't it sound like a euphemism? To pull a calf? It's not. It's a literal term. How do you 'pull a calf'? The answer is carefully: with palpation gloves and OB chains.

Among other things, Pastor Wayne has been a rancher, a carpet-installer, an EMT, a builder, and an environmental services worker at the local assisted living facility... He's also been a hospice chaplain. During Covid, in fact. He knows Terri from his work as a chaplain.

Pastor Wayne also rides motorcycles. Coveting is a sin, I'm told - but I surely coveted his Triumph last night.

Day 79: Pastoral Triumph. Pastor Wayne Owens, First Presbyterian Church, Atkinson, NE.

Day 77 began in Ainsworth with rain. Elijah Reed, our documentarian, was with us for two days - documenting the trek.

Elijah heading back to Seattle (selfie from Omaha airport).

A pickup truck in Long Pine, NE (population 300). Nebraska's politics are not always predictable.

Esty in the hoosegow in Long Pine.

The Cowboy Trail, between Long Pine and Bassett.

The Cowboy Trail - outside Bassett, NE - makes me feel both happy and lonesome.

Bassett, NE. There's (at least) one Dollar General in every town we pass.

Terri Kaup, Stuart, NE.

Some of the memorial trees in Stuart Park are not faring so well....

Haden Kaup's memorial.

Haden's Tree.

Day 78. Stuart Park Campground at sunset. Stuart, NE.

Shirlie - who defines "sass" - with Bob. (Eileen in background). Atkinson Presbyterian Church.

Bill Buchholz (Bob's college trackmate, joining the pilgrimage for a few days) - with Pastor Wayne.

Eileen Osborne - Church Elder (and Shirlie in an uncharacteristically serious moment!)

Terri - rancher and chef of phenomenal beef vegetable soup. Atkinson Presbyterian Church. (Her t-shirt reads: "Everything I love is at the end of a dirt road.")

3 Pilgrims. Day 80 on the Nebraska Cowboy Trail.