A Christmas Story
In remembrance of Dave Ostrowski, who loved Colorado.
In 1986, after the company I worked for, Sprint, “forced transferred” me from TX to CO with promises of a great future, I was miserable. There were no pools, no palm trees, no restaurants and no decent malls. I’d often thought of Dave because he loved Colorado. I’d look over to the mountains and sometimes I could swear to see his presence still hanging over them. I was angry with him too, for taking his own life, because now here I was and we could’ve had a lot of fun running around Colorado but no, not to be. I was a 26-yr old with a jeep and an attitude, seeking adventure in this frigid land of alleged opportunity. One day I thought to drive into the mountains to see what they had to offer. I researched and found a little town called Georgetown, about 45 minutes up and into the mountains. I loved road trips then and still today, so I packed up my jeep with food and water, warm clothes and off I went on my first big expedition.
The first little town I passed on my way to Georgetown was called Idaho Springs. It had a Sonic drive-in and a sign about a hot springs. I made a mental note of that ‘cause it sounded interesting and warm. The next little town was Georgetown. Think, “Shoot Out at the OK Corral” with wooden walkways, small, quaint Victorian houses, narrow streets with lamps to light them, a steepled church, some tourist shops where local artisans hang their wares, a saloon and some professional buildings for lawyers and doctors. A little tea shop and a few other restaurants, right there in the middle of the mountains. The mountains were the backdrop for this town, and it was beautiful. It was snowing lightly that day, with soft, big flakes that came down and gently melted where they landed. There was a blanket of silence which the snow creates but still the comfortable sound of people shopping for gifts as it was the holidays. I went into the tea shop and picked up a cup of coffee with a croissant. By the time I came out the day had begun turning to dusk, and it stopped me in my tracks. Dusk in the mountains, where the snow is, is a soft blue. With the mountains as the backdrop, I had never seen anything so beautiful. I stood there outside the tea shop just taking it in, the snowflakes falling quite heavily now. The air had become crisp. Across the street was a big white church with a steeple. I hadn’t noticed that coming in but it added to the mystique. Behind the church was a female deer delicately eating a leaf off a tree, not caring about the snow or the tourists. There were a few cars parked on the street but one car in particular, an old orange Bronco, caught my attention. It had big round headlights which highlighted the falling snowflakes, turning them that soft blue color. I realized it could’ve been Dave’s car and had he been alive, it could’ve been Dave. Then two ladies came out of the tea shop behind me. The doors had been decorated with bells which jingled every time someone went in or out, creating a merry note. The women were laughing and the sound of their soft laughter and the bells filled my ears, layering upon the blue snowflakes and lamps now lighting the street. The coffee and smells of fresh baked bread also snuck out of the shop and brought in an olfactory delight. The whole thing was happening around me and I was not taking part of it; I was in it, experiencing it unfold. I was in the middle of a snowglobe, plain and simple. There was laughter, music, bells, a church with a deer and old friends. There was the soft blue of the big thick flakes slowly falling and the chill of a mountain evening. There were quaint little shops that I love and if that wasn’t enough, as if on cue, the door to the church opened from the inside and about a dozen people came out, all dressed in period outfits. The men looked handsome with their tails and top hats, and the ladies had on long dresses with petticoats and pretty feather-adorned hats. They began singing a cappella, “Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly” as they walked down the street, past the deer eating the leaf of the tree behind the church with the steeple in the middle of the blue-hued snow smelling of coffee and I was overcome. This *was* what Norman Rockwell and Thomas Kinkade painted, right here, right now. This was the real deal, and I had been blessed to be right in the middle of it, just for a moment in time. I will remember that moment for as long as I live. Just a moment in time in which I was allowed to be within the snow globe. To stand aside and see God’s great work in action, just for me. A most beautiful moment in my life. In that moment the Lord humbled me. He silenced my cry for warm pools and fancy restaurants, for cute little dresses and big malls. Of course all of these are within my reach now, but at that time He was showing me what a big and beautiful world there is to be seen. He opened not only my eyes, but my senses, to the beauty He’s created all around me, if only I would stop and take a look around.
In 1986, after the company I worked for, Sprint, “forced transferred” me from TX to CO with promises of a great future, I was miserable. There were no pools, no palm trees, no restaurants and no decent malls. I’d often thought of Dave because he loved Colorado. I’d look over to the mountains and sometimes I could swear to see his presence still hanging over them. I was angry with him too, for taking his own life, because now here I was and we could’ve had a lot of fun running around Colorado but no, not to be. I was a 26-yr old with a jeep and an attitude, seeking adventure in this frigid land of alleged opportunity. One day I thought to drive into the mountains to see what they had to offer. I researched and found a little town called Georgetown, about 45 minutes up and into the mountains. I loved road trips then and still today, so I packed up my jeep with food and water, warm clothes and off I went on my first big expedition.
The first little town I passed on my way to Georgetown was called Idaho Springs. It had a Sonic drive-in and a sign about a hot springs. I made a mental note of that ‘cause it sounded interesting and warm. The next little town was Georgetown. Think, “Shoot Out at the OK Corral” with wooden walkways, small, quaint Victorian houses, narrow streets with lamps to light them, a steepled church, some tourist shops where local artisans hang their wares, a saloon and some professional buildings for lawyers and doctors. A little tea shop and a few other restaurants, right there in the middle of the mountains. The mountains were the backdrop for this town, and it was beautiful. It was snowing lightly that day, with soft, big flakes that came down and gently melted where they landed. There was a blanket of silence which the snow creates but still the comfortable sound of people shopping for gifts as it was the holidays. I went into the tea shop and picked up a cup of coffee with a croissant. By the time I came out the day had begun turning to dusk, and it stopped me in my tracks. Dusk in the mountains, where the snow is, is a soft blue. With the mountains as the backdrop, I had never seen anything so beautiful. I stood there outside the tea shop just taking it in, the snowflakes falling quite heavily now. The air had become crisp. Across the street was a big white church with a steeple. I hadn’t noticed that coming in but it added to the mystique. Behind the church was a female deer delicately eating a leaf off a tree, not caring about the snow or the tourists. There were a few cars parked on the street but one car in particular, an old orange Bronco, caught my attention. It had big round headlights which highlighted the falling snowflakes, turning them that soft blue color. I realized it could’ve been Dave’s car and had he been alive, it could’ve been Dave. Then two ladies came out of the tea shop behind me. The doors had been decorated with bells which jingled every time someone went in or out, creating a merry note. The women were laughing and the sound of their soft laughter and the bells filled my ears, layering upon the blue snowflakes and lamps now lighting the street. The coffee and smells of fresh baked bread also snuck out of the shop and brought in an olfactory delight. The whole thing was happening around me and I was not taking part of it; I was in it, experiencing it unfold. I was in the middle of a snowglobe, plain and simple. There was laughter, music, bells, a church with a deer and old friends. There was the soft blue of the big thick flakes slowly falling and the chill of a mountain evening. There were quaint little shops that I love and if that wasn’t enough, as if on cue, the door to the church opened from the inside and about a dozen people came out, all dressed in period outfits. The men looked handsome with their tails and top hats, and the ladies had on long dresses with petticoats and pretty feather-adorned hats. They began singing a cappella, “Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly” as they walked down the street, past the deer eating the leaf of the tree behind the church with the steeple in the middle of the blue-hued snow smelling of coffee and I was overcome. This *was* what Norman Rockwell and Thomas Kinkade painted, right here, right now. This was the real deal, and I had been blessed to be right in the middle of it, just for a moment in time. I will remember that moment for as long as I live. Just a moment in time in which I was allowed to be within the snow globe. To stand aside and see God’s great work in action, just for me. A most beautiful moment in my life. In that moment the Lord humbled me. He silenced my cry for warm pools and fancy restaurants, for cute little dresses and big malls. Of course all of these are within my reach now, but at that time He was showing me what a big and beautiful world there is to be seen. He opened not only my eyes, but my senses, to the beauty He’s created all around me, if only I would stop and take a look.
Pursueliving - Seek Peace 