“I’m going to marry someone who will stop and play in the snow,” our pre-teen daughter announced from the back seat years ago as we were crossing winter-white mountains on our way to a family Christmas. But the objective of her father was to reach our destination safely and in good time. (Particularly in good time.)
Dan and I drove two vehicles filled with grandkids and grand-dogs and luggage to the airport where The Parents were waiting on the curb outside the terminal. We hugged the grands good-bye, hugged The Parents hello and good-bye, and their mini-van pointed toward home.
The neutral colors of the sky and sea and sand blend with ease. Massive boulders stand at attention as the waves take center stage, blue-green and frothy-white before trundling back into the gray.
Megan Martin and her son showed up at our place back when Dan and I were newlyweds (well … we’re still newlyweds). We had sorted through our duplicate household items, and Megan was there to pick up our excess home furnishings.
Temps were in the 40s and a wind was blowing cold. We layered up and set off as the trail wound down into a ravine before pushing uphill.
The first waterfall – St. Mary Waterfall – was small but mighty as it roared into a green-blue pool before rushing away.
Dan and I have been touring museums and monuments and historic sites as we work our way from Oregon to Wisconsin and back. I didn’t appreciate history in school, but I find it fascinating these days.
At Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse, we watched videos of how the sculptors (read: dynamite handlers) shaped the mountains of stone into presidents’ faces and an Indian chief on a horse. Mind boggling.
As I write this, Dan and I are winding uphill—between 8-9000′ in elevation—somewhere in eastern Wyoming, past tall cliffs interspersed with evergreen forests and into Big Horn County. We just passed a sign indicating: “Moose next 5 miles.” So naturally we’re watching for big horn sheep and moose.
Dan and I recently celebrated our wedding anniversary in one of the cabins at the historic Weasku Inn near the Rogue River. We can now say that we’ve been married for years.
(2 years … but still.)
“Do you want to go to dinner with some friends of mine?” Dan asked back when we were hiking and snowshoeing and building a friendship, back when we were ‘non-dating.’
My quarantine gave me time to reflect on how I arrived at this abundant place—belonging to this new husband, enjoying this lovely, peace-filled home, this graced season.
I arrived via woundedness.
What if you got exactly the wound you needed in order to become the person you have become, to fulfill the destiny you are called to create, that ‘sacred wound’ in which you were hurt in exactly the way life needed you to be? – Joie Foster
Copyright © 2026 Marlys Johnson
