Water in the Valleys

Give me views!” I said to the wrangle who would be our guide on the morning horseback ride. It was the same thing I’d said at the start of every ride during our trip to the dude ranch. From the top of the hills, you could see for miles. On our last ride, I noticed a cluster of green trees which stood in sharp contrast to the brown landscape everywhere else. The trees were not up high like where we were riding, but nestled in a valley. Clearly, there was water there. As “Bubba,” my horse, meandered his way down the hill toward the corral, I stared at the cluster of trees in the valley and thought about the balance I need to strike as I “ride” through life.

You see, I still LOVE views. I always have. They cause me to take deep breaths and be grateful for life. What I often forget is the need to return to the valleys. Valleys aren’t as open, nor are they as inspirational (maybe). But there’s water in the valleys. To go there is to go get a drink for your soul. It’s darker in the valleys, but you often find other folks there, many like-minded, or like-needed, souls dying of thirst. Just ask the mothers who have lost children. They meet each week in a parish library. Ask the three husbands struggling with their recent divorces, one cup of coffee at a time, at a local coffee shop. Or ask the girls huddled together in a bedroom on the Saturday night the “cool” classmates are having a sleep over to which they were not invited.

There are all kinds of valleys, and it takes work to enter them. The pristine hilltops, with their pink clouds above, are tempting, but the water’s found lower. After seventeen years of not drinking, I have chosen a new sponsor who is making me work the twelve-steps again. It’s not easy work, but when we met the other morning, I thought about the trees on the ride. Together we sat, talking about hard things, but I left as if I’d had a cool drink of water.

There’s water in the valleys. I need to drink it .