We are creatures of habit. Even the most adventurous of souls will find themselves having a routine of some sort whether it’s just a morning cup of coffee or in the way a day is lain out.
A few days ago as I walked the familiar path from house to barn I again noticed the shortened grass already worn thinner by our daily treks. We have a circle drive that we could walk, but the path through the yard is shorter so that’s the one we take. It’s not pretty: especially after the spring rains. In the winter we even clear it with a shovel or snow plow. Yep, right through the yard.
My thoughts wandered from this path to the one I walked from house to barn as a child at my grandparents. The farm too has a circle drive that my grandparents, dad, and uncle didn’t want to walk completely around either. By the time I came along and was old enough to toddle behind Grandpa to the barn the path was already well worn. There was no mistaking the dirt line running from one drive, under an apple tree, to the next drive, under a scraggly evergreen, and then to the barn. I could probably still walk it with my eyes closed to this day.
I cannot explain to anyone why my thoughts travel as they do. Often backward, then forward again landing with some connection to current day. What lessons have I taken, or could I take, from a barn path?
One of my favorite poems is Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken.
Over the past couple of days each time I’ve covered the distance from the house to barn and back again I’ve considered places well worn versus life’s journeys into the unknown. I daresay that farm life can be a twist of both.
There are many daily constants. Before we eat our own breakfasts the animals get theirs. From cattle to horses, chickens and cats, all need water and food. Seasonally, routines of planting and harvesting mix with all of the maintenance in between. At times-like when you just want a day off, or the weather’s bad and the path to the barn looks tedious, you wish you could walk down Frost’s road of untouched undergrowth to a place of mystery and adventure from which you may wish to never return. It’s about that time when you realize you just have to pull on those boots and walk the known path anyway. I kinda felt this way when I began to walk this mental trail the other day. When I heard the soft mew of new kittens I was rewarded with the thought that surprises do await even in the steady known. Sometimes it’s new life and other times it’s a downed fence with the cows on the wrong side.
To be honest I’m about halfway through an average life expectancy now so when I close my eyes and revisit my trails I question which ones will make the difference. The well worn or the less traveled? In the end my guess is the one that has been walked a million times over by friends and family members at all stages of life. The one filled with memories, good and bad. The one I’ve traveled alone with tears in my eyes and prayers on my lips. It’s the path of home and constants that will be the most important to me.
About twenty/twenty-five years ago I was a young mother needing a creative outlet and a little time away. I had toyed with painting while in jr. high and highschool but never art as a serious venture for myself. I didn’t like all the official rules I encountered in art class. I guess I’m more of a do-it-yourselfer…painting things how I see them rather than how everyone else wants to see them..Anyway, when I heard about a local tole painting class my aunt and her sister had been going to I wanted to give it a try.
My husband was an encouraging trooper. One night a week of my own meant the world to me. Off I’d go for an evening filled with projects to challenge me, other women to talk to, and snacks.😂 Not cheerios, fruit snacks, or other toddler fare either. One night a week our delightful teacher Betty would give instructions when needed and then just join in our stories and laughter. I learned about tole painting, but mostly those nights were medicine.
After a couple of years I stopped going. I honestly don’t remember the reasons why. Finances? Work schedule? Growing demands of additional children? All I know is that a lot of life has happened in the years since. With the passing of time a lot of creativity has gone out the door too.
Fast forward to New Year 2024. We now have adult children and a teenager. My time is no longer tied up in childrearing or many of the things that go along with it. Even though the multiple demands are no longer there like they used to be I tend to feel the stresses of life more than I ever used to. Maybe because I used to live in the whirlwind of it all I never had the time to actually dwell on things.
Along the way it seems like piece after piece of myself has been spent and I’ve not taken the time to renew like I did those twenty years ago. I don’t regret giving to my family, church, and life in general. I do regret not continuing to carve out the time to produce things for the sheer sake of enjoyment as well.
Recently I heard a preacher say that the day you stop producing things is the day you start dying. God created us to produce, to create, with our abilities until the day we leave this earth. We each have talents or giftings that are meant to be stretched and used. When we stop using them life loses it’s luster.
Yesterday morning I woke up kinda blah as a winter storm blew hard on us. I sat on my phone scrolling my Instagram while wondering what I was going to do with my sequestered Saturday. More laundry? A health life coach I follow shared how letting ones creativity slide into non existence was very dangerous….meaning unhealthy. When you just entertain the daily mundane you become bored and this just adds to the stress of life. Yes, this points back to the previous reminder that an unproductive life proceeds death.
This was a bit of a wake up call for me. I began to think about what I create on a daily basis. I create dinner. I create those loads of clean laundry. I create a clean and welcoming home. All important things, but what about the creative part inside of me. Where has that gone?
After tending to a few household necessities I went to the basement. I gathered my paints and brushes (which I had kept stocked despite the fact that I’d not used them in years… what does that say? Deep down I’d never lost the desire.) I wiped the dust off of them, literally. I spread out newspaper over the kitchen table.
My husband watched in quiet surprise from the other end of the table where he was working. “Whatcha doing?”
“I’m going to paint.”
Within minutes it began to come back to me. I hoped my work of art would at least be recognizable because I had doubt. For over a year I’d thought about painting a Highland cow. We raise them and I’ve seen paintings of them everywhere…why couldn’t I do that? But no kidding, after the fact, my husband admitted that while seeing me trace out the beginning pattern he had doubt too. Then shapes and lines began to form in layers of color and we began to see what I had in my minds eye. And it felt good.
Here’s the finished product:
I actually cried…not because I think it’s perfect and it’s probably not what one would buy somewhere, but because watching the strokes create what I saw in my head released something I hadn’t felt in awhile. It’s just a cow on slate, but it’s proof that there’s still a young creative lady in me. She hasn’t died.
So if this speaks to you, be encouraged. Pick up your talents and use them. Let them breathe life into you as God desires.
My dad behind the wheel trying to get his soybeans in
It’s near mid-October and farmers here are running their beans in quick order. That’s the way it goes. The harvest window seems small no matter what the crop. When it’s ready, if the weather’s going to hold, you run. Sometimes it seems like you wait for the clouds to part (literally) and angels to sing while aligning all of the correct elements for the best crop possible.
There’s a cold front rolling in over the weekend forecasting rain aplenty. The last few days have had the air full of clouds of bean dust as anyone around here with a field of soybeans races against the clock.
We personally don’t raise food crops on our little mini farm but I still watch the skies and fields with bated breath hoping my family and neighbors can get it all done in time. I understand what’s at stake for the small farm. Missing the golden harvest window could cost dearly. Maybe you get another chance while the crop is prime, or maybe it rains so much you can’t get back in the field for days.
As I’m writing this we’re watching one of our favorite YouTube farmers. He also is combining beans. He just said “this is a stupid occupation”. I bet every farmer has thought it from time to time.
Yet this is how I watched my family make ends meet my whole life. At least that’s the goal; come out on top and not in the red at the end of the season. The constant cycle of sowing seeds, spending time and money on maintenance (machinery, sprays, fertilizer) praying for weather to cooperate so everything grows well, waiting and more praying until it’s go time- then praying all of the machinery stays in working order until harvest is over. When the fields are barren, the trailers have all been emptied at the elevator, and the equipment is all stored back away, it’s hoping it all paid well enough to reinvest everything to do it again next year.
So why do they do it? So many reasons. Each farmer has their own list. Whether it be what they love, or what they know; the smell of fresh dirt, hay, grease and fuel; the signature haze in the air laying in a heavy blanket below the descending sun they’re trying to beat; the feel of the rain when they need it the most or the hot July air when the mown hay needs to dry; or maybe the satisfaction of knowing they made it another year as a member of a shrinking minority called the small farmer. It’s pride. And I don’t mean in a haughty way.
I feel a sense of pride when I think about how I was raised. I love that our kids see what it means to eek out an honest living from soil.
Tonight as one of our neighbors drove his John Deere combine back into the field after an off load my son noticed a huge bald eagle standing right next to the remainder of the beans where the combine was headed. My husband commented “there’s nothing more American than that”. Apparently the driver of the combine had the same thought because as he approached the majestic bird he stopped to hop out and get a picture. Approaching rain or not he felt the need to capture the moment. I smiled at the opportunity to witness his appreciation.
This is what I’m talking about. If you know, you know. It’s in your heart. It’s in your soul. Farming isn’t an occupation as much as it is a way of life that is deeply woven in who you are.
Maybe that’s just my opinion. But that’s how I see it.
As the sun sets on the final days of July I see the beginnings of summers end on the horizon. The wheat fields have been shorn, vegetables are being harvested, and already I see the turning tips of Maple leaves. Oh, we still have August, but if it’s anything like June and July it’ll be gone in a blink.
The older I get the more alienated I find myself. I judge the seasons, and life in general, from a rural mindset. I see the crops and look for changes or signs of distress. I see the flowers change in waves of tulips, to summers geraniums and day lilies, then it’s on to black eyed susans and mums, and lastly winter gives us color with holly and evergreens. I hear birds songs, noting which ones have come and gone. Same with the arrival of seasonal insects. Any day now the spiders and crickets will be invading. Like an almanac, if one pays attention, any number of details can be gleaned for the future. Unfortunately it seems as though these details go unnoticed anymore.
A harvest ready cucumberA summer hollyhockLate summer bee balm
I love the sound of an old tractor. I love farm animals..(except pigs. Sorry, I can’t abide pigs) I love seeing newly canned produce lining our shelves. Even the chipped enamel pan holding fresh peas puts a smile on my face. When I’ve found myself talking about these things to someone generally I get a blank stare. Very few my age or younger even relate.
What brings on these thoughts?? We went to our local fair this last week. Supposedly it’s one of the oldest in our state of Michigan. It used to be steeped in rural history and the barns were full of all things homegrown, homemade, and home raised. There are still hardworking kids in the 4H barns with their livestock, but the numbers seemed way down. Open class displays are almost non existent. I was sad and disappointed to find it barren of much resemblance of rural life; marking the fact that this county is no longer that at all. Some call it progress. I call it heartbreaking.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love me some modern conveniences. I’m not just about living in the past. I just find it ashame the two worlds don’t seem to coexist well. A generation can quickly lose its roots.
We aren’t the only small town this is happening to. Our farm way of life is being threatened across the country. It doesn’t pay and the number who choose to remain because they love it grows smaller by the day. As the powers that be push for lab grown meat and genetically modified produce it’s only going to get worse. Sorry it all sounds rather glum.
When I walked down the midway with my family I saw hundreds of hollow eyes. Interesting, I also saw very few families. We heard the crowd cheering from the grandstands: the entertainment? Mini wrestling. Yes, read between the lines. I didn’t find the wrestlers repulsive, or even the wrestling…maybe it was the thought of crowds gathering simply because they wanted to watch the oddity of “miniature” people wrestling. That our county fair chose that for highlighted entertainment turned my stomach. I thought of Roman colosseums, and though it’s a stretch, I asked myself how far are we from that?
I can’t live in a bubble. As much as I long for the peace of undisturbed countryside and the general return of sanity to humankind across the board, this ole world just keeps spinning. I will keep praying for it. I will avoid the local fair, but I will pray harder and probably speak louder to those who’ll listen. If it becomes to “citified” around here I may question why we stay…but in the meantime I’ll listen for the katydids song.
It’s June. JUNE. The last blog I wrote was six months ago. Though in some ways it doesn’t feel like I’ve spent a half year away from writing, in others I know it’s been far too long. Every time I’d think about picking up a pad of paper, (I always begin ‘old school’ with paper and a pen), I’d drown in emptiness of thought. What do I even say? There has been so much, yet nothing I could put in words.
As winter finally melted into spring the word Hibernate kept coming to mind. It’s rooted in Latin meaning winter quarters. A state of dormancy. And dormancy means to have normal physical functions suspended or slowed down for a period of time. In many ways, this is where I have been.
During this time I have also thought much about the use of caves during Biblical times. They were often used as graves, places of hiding, and places of refuge or refreshment. Immediately my mind travels to King David in the book of 2 Samuel. Here he lives with his men in the cave of Adullam. This was both a place of hiding from Saul and a place of refreshing after retreat from various battles. These ancient caves could literally become the death of a man or the source of his life. To me, the important question became “how long do you stay in a cave hibernating before it begins to work against you becoming a place of desolation: a slow death?”
Cave of Adullam, Image shared from Google search: Grow in God’s Grace
Through much of the winter I self isolated. I continued to go to town at least once a week for necessities, occasionally talked to and messaged friends, kept in touch with close family, and stayed active in church. At home I kept up with housework and school. On the outside things appeared normal I suppose. On the inside I withdrew and made the most of my quiet time. I dug up old sermons from ministers who’ve left this earth for heaven. I read my Bible and prayed more. I just tried to be quiet, digging deep in ways I just never had before. I know these are all good things that are sources of strength and life giving fountains for days ahead. However, as winter drug on I began to feel the need to leave my ‘cave’ and reengage with the world around me. Like a bear I suppose. At the same time the comfort and safety of a reclusive lifestyle suits me; too well. Despite all I had learned and the ways I had been strengthened, grey areas where I began to feel “dead”, for lack of a better word, began to encroach. I know God is the source of my joy and strength so I cried out in these moments saying things like “I can’t do ‘this’ anymore”. ‘This’ being a general sense of feeling passion and purposeless. My hibernation was quickly becoming a prison.
A few weeks ago I attended a women’s conference with my mom and a young lady from church. We had made arrangements for this several months ago. Yet, as the day arrived I felt the familiar pull to back out. It would be much easier to just not go. There were many reasons why staying home would feel safer, more convenient, less expensive….deep down I knew I needed to go. I knew there was something God wanted to say to me; things He wanted to complete in me that He’d been working on all winter long.
As I sat there waiting for the first service to begin saw the theme for the weekend illuminated on the overhead over the stage. “From the Ashes”. It was hard to hold back my tears as I read it. Where I was inside was on full display. Ya, God’s got our number. Don’t think for a second that He doesn’t. He sees where we’re at. Where we’re strong and where we’re struggling. He sees the places He longs to breathe life back into and the ashes He desires to resurrect.
During one of the services the definition for discouragement was given. It is the loss of confidence. Hopelessness. Despair. Feeling intimidated. Beat down. Afflicted. Dismayed. Distressed. While not all of these words described me, there are some that did…and we were encouraged to not accept a single one as God is not the author of these in any form. In my cave meant for refreshing I had lost my confidence in other areas. Then these other negative words were given an entrance to my life.
By the time we headed home that weekend I had the refreshment I had been longing for. The foundations built in hibernation now have the life, joy, and purpose to hold the walls of what God is trying to build in me during this season of life.
So if you have found yourself in a season feeling lifeless or lacking a sense of purpose, call out to the One who holds every answer you need.
Have you ever seen, done, or read something so many times that you know it? You can quote it. You can see it in your mind. My kids are great at quoting movie lines verbatim. You know….you KNOW it!!! Line for line.
A couple of weeks ago I sat down to watch my favorite movie again: It’s A Wonderful Life. Without exaggeration I can say I’ve seen it at least 50 times. I can quote lines, sing the songs, and I never get tired of it or of it’s message. Yet this year as I sat on the couch watching the opening scene again I was unprepared for the moment that it hit differently than it ever has before.
Image taken from YouTube
Now, for the record, I don’t believe every premise in this movie is Biblically sound or based, but overall it hits the mark. The movie opens with prayers being lifted toward heaven by people who know and love a man named George Bailey. Enter the angel named Joseph who brings this to God’s attention (as if He wouldn’t know). God then sends for another angel named Clarence who will be sent to earth to intervene on George’s behalf. This conversation between Clarence and God is what stopped me in my seat and has been on my mind for a few weeks now:
“You sent for me sir?”
“Yes Clarence. A man down on earth needs our help.”
“Splendid, is he sick?”
“No. Worse. He’s discouraged. At exactly 10:45 pm earth time that man will be thinking seriously of throwing away God’s greatest gift.”
“Oh dear, dear. His life.”
As I’ve rehearsed the themes of 2022 it seems to me that for many it has involved discouragement. In one form or many as I look around I could give instance after instance of those I’ve watched from near and far who’ve been impacted. I am one myself. It has not been an easy year for me in spirit, mind, or body. I know I’m not alone. Many, many times I’ve had to force my focus from what I can see/feel/taste/touch to the truth of God’s Word: my hope. Then I look around and I’m saddened by all the other downcast faces. And what of those who do not share my hope. What about those who are quite literally hopeless without God.
I believe God’s greatest gift to us is not our lives, as the movie suggests, but that of the life of Jesus. God’s greatest gift to us is His Son-who in exchange for His life bought ours. So that also speaks volumes as to the value He does place on our lives. We are worth quite a bit to Him. We have a role to play on this planet and it’s not just moping around from day to day without hopes, dreams, or living the full lives He desires for us.
To the world at large this may seem out of touch with reality. This spiritual stuff may seem unattainable or meaningless in the realm of our daily lives. It may seem hard to understand how a life lived, died, and then risen two thousand years ago could give us any sense of personal hope today.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time digging into three chapters of the Bible…yes, and there are so many more. Ephesians chapters 1-3 paint a pretty clear version of how this exchange works and what it means for us. I really like reading it in different versions as each adds a different dimension to the layers.
These passages tell us that God traded us His Son in death, so that we could have life. When we walked in the ways of the rest of the world (whatever sin you can think of….you name it-we all are guilty (Romans 3:23)) He chose to give us mercy. Even when we were dead in sin without any hope whatever He gave us life in Christ through the simple act of us trusting Him, believing Him, having what is called faith.
So how then, for those who have already received this gift of promise is it possible to be discouraged? I’ve had to do some soul searching here because if I really believe all that even just these three chapters have to say…if I believe they are true for me…that God is not a liar, then how can I lose? What place does doubt in any form have in my life if Ephesians 3:14-21 (especially verse 20!!!) are true?
For this reason [seeing the greatness of this plan by which you are built together in Christ], I bow my knees before the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, For Whom every family in heaven and on earth is named [that Father from Whom all fatherhood takes its title and derives its name]. May He grant you out of the rich treasury of His glory to be strengthened and reinforced with mighty power in the inner man by the [Holy] Spirit [Himself indwelling your innermost being and personality]. May Christ through your faith [actually] dwell (settle down, abide, make His permanent home) in your hearts! May you be rooted deep in love and founded securely on love, That you may have the power and be strong to apprehend and grasp with all the saints [God’s devoted people, the experience of that love] what is the breadth and length and height and depth [of it]; [That you may really come] to know [practically, through experience for yourselves] the love of Christ, which far surpasses mere knowledge [without experience]; that you may be filled [through all your being] unto all the fullness of God [may have the richest measure of the divine Presence, and become a body wholly filled and flooded with God Himself]! Now to Him Who, by (in consequence of) the [action of His] power that is at work within us, is able to [carry out His purpose and] do superabundantly, far over and above all that we [dare] ask or think [infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, or dreams]– To Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations forever and ever. Amen (so be it). Ephesians 3:14-21 AMPC https://bible.com/bible/8/eph.3.14-21.AMPC
A song that has impacted me during the last quarter of the year is one called A Sound Mind, sung by Melissa Helser. Here are the lyrics:
In the chaos, You are the peace In my suffering, You’re here with me In the darkness, You never leave God of Mercy, You’re walking with me I surrender anxiety All the striving has to cease In this moment, You’re still the King This is the gift You are giving to me
A sound mind for the spirit of fear A sound mind so that I can see clearly A sound mind, Your Spirit is here A sound mind, a sound mind
There’s a table where we meet In the presence of my enemies I will listen, I will feast On every word You are speaking to me I remember who You are You’re my fortress and my God I will stand in authority In Jesus’ name all this darkness will flee
A sound mind for the spirit of fear A sound mind so that I can see clearly A sound mind, Your Spirit is here A sound mind, a sound mind
A sound mind for the spirit of fear A sound mind so that I can see clearly A sound mind, Your Spirit is here A sound mind, a sound mind A sound mind
You saved, healed, delivered me Jesus’ blood wash over me Command my soul awake, arise Use each breath to prophesy I prophesy
You saved, healed, delivered me Jesus’ blood wash over me Command my soul awake, arise Use each breath to prophesy I prophesy
You saved, healed, delivered me Jesus’ blood wash over me Command my soul awake, arise Use each breath to prophesy I prophesy
A sound mind for the spirit of fear A sound mind so that I can see clearly A sound mind, Your Spirit is here A sound mind, a sound mind
A sound mind for the spirit of fear A sound mind so that I can see clearly A sound mind, Your Spirit is here A sound mind, a sound mind
A sound mind, Jesus A sound mind, a sound mind A sound mind, a sound mind A sound mind, a sound mind A sound mind, a sound mind
This is my inheritance A sound mind This is my inheritance A sound mind This is my inheritance What the blood of Jesus paid for This is my inheritance A sound mind This is my inheritance This is my inheritance This is my inheritance A sound mind
You saved, healed, delivered me Jesus’ blood wash over me Command my soul awake, arise Use each breath to prophesy I prophesy
You saved, healed, delivered me Jesus’ blood wash over me Command my soul awake, arise Use each breath to prophesy I prophesy
A sound mind (for the spirit of fear) A sound mind (so that I can see clearly) A sound mind (Your Spirit is here) A sound mind (a sound mind)
A sound mind (for the spirit of fear) A sound mind (so that I can see clearly) A sound mind (Your Spirit is here) A sound mind (a sound mind)
A sound mind, a sound mind A sound mind, a sound mind A sound mind
In this next year I believe we need to be able to see clearly every open door and gift God has freely given, as well as every trap our enemy the devil would like to set for us. Focusing on God will allow us to avoid the pitfalls. This year will be pivotal for many: a battle for their hope, joy, peace, patience, and mostly love; because the love God freely gave us the source of all of the above.
Ephesians 6:10-18 close out today’s post as encouragement:
In conclusion, be strong in the Lord [be empowered through your union with Him]; draw your strength from Him [that strength which His boundless might provides]. Put on God’s whole armor [the armor of a heavy-armed soldier which God supplies], that you may be able successfully to stand up against [all] the strategies and the deceits of the devil. For we are not wrestling with flesh and blood [contending only with physical opponents], but against the despotisms, against the powers, against [the master spirits who are] the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spirit forces of wickedness in the heavenly (supernatural) sphere. Therefore put on God’s complete armor, that you may be able to resist and stand your ground on the evil day [of danger], and, having done all [the crisis demands], to stand [firmly in your place]. Stand therefore [hold your ground], having tightened the belt of truth around your loins and having put on the breastplate of integrity and of moral rectitude and right standing with God, And having shod your feet in preparation [to face the enemy with the firm-footed stability, the promptness, and the readiness produced by the good news] of the Gospel of peace. [Isa. 52:7.] Lift up over all the [covering] shield of saving faith, upon which you can quench all the flaming missiles of the wicked [one]. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword that the Spirit wields, which is the Word of God. Pray at all times (on every occasion, in every season) in the Spirit, with all [manner of] prayer and entreaty. To that end keep alert and watch with strong purpose and perseverance, interceding in behalf of all the saints (God’s consecrated people). Ephesians 6:10-18 AMPC https://bible.com/bible/8/eph.6.10-18.AMPC
A week ago Thursday it was November 10th…and it was a beautiful day. 70° I think? My Alaskan friends walked barefoot outside enjoying the unseasonal warmth of that Michigan day. We had gathered to mourn the passing of someone dear to us. Why does the weather of that day matter to me you may ask? Over the next couple of days our thermometer dropped. Drastically. As we gathered once again for the memorial service on Saturday snowflakes fell from the sky. Each one was a little kiss from heaven for the family members. Snow was a favorite thing for the man we honored that day. It was our first measurable snow this season so given the previous days heat it was an extra special gift.
It has not been warm since. Our friends have returned home and life is getting back to “normal”….whatever that is. The other day I was in desperate need of a pick me up on the heels of what has been a very busy last two months (more about that in a later blog), so I decided to scrounge in the snow for whatever remained of my hearty late fall mum blooms. They were covered in icy crystals but like I said, I was desperate. Sometimes just a touch of fresh color on my window sill is an instant smile.
As I bent over, digging through a light layer of snow, I got hooked on a thorn of the rose bush hovering above me. While untangling myself from the grasp of the hibernated stems I saw a lonely bud. Ice clung to it’s outer petals. Carefully I clipped it too. As a florist, I know that roses are delicate creatures, and that they will not recover from such cold temps. I thoroughly expected to bring this bud in and watch it wilt over and blacken as the warmth hit it. I added it to a little vase of lukewarm water just to see. What did I have to lose?
I’m amazed to say that little bloom has toughed it out. Only a couple of outer petals show the black edges of burn and it has begun to open up beautifully. Proudly it stands in my windowsill as a testament to longevity. Deep red and lovely. My last rose for the year.
I have a tendency not to take things at face value. AKA ..I read into things. So this little rose has been looking at me across the kitchen for a few days and I look right back. I see something that should have died, but for some reason did not. I think about how fragile life can be, and yet at other times it surprises you with a miracle. I had dismissed life for this bloom as impossible, but yet gave it a drink and warmth just in case.
How many impossible situations do we pass through where we should have wilted worse for wear? The loving hand of God plucks us up, gives us what we need to recover, and shelters us in His warmth. “Live” He says.
The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. John 10:10 KJV https://bible.com/bible/1/jhn.10.10.KJV
Those who have passed on before us who knew this abundant life are experiencing it now. They are dancing in the presence of our Master and Creator. For us who remain we have the opportunity to know this shelter that is able to sustain us. We have a hope that remains. Trust in Him and Keep blooming.
This week my Monday morning began as it typically does. Bible reading with breakfast and coffee after outside chores were done…except I found my favorite australorp hen passed away in the hen yard. These things happen from time to time, but I mourned this one for a bit. She was pretty and up until then had been a good layer. Chin up and on with the day. It’s going to be okay.
A couple of phone calls I had been putting off finally got made. Did you know you cannot replace your own car lights anymore without messing with a circuit panel….and LEDS cost $1200? Yes, and sometimes extended warranties are fun stuff to deal with too.. About keeping that chin up…
At least I had gotten a couple loads of laundry done and on the line. Only, I smelled something akin to hot metal in the laundry room. I investigated and could find nothing out of the ordinary. So, the third and final load was going in and I’d have that task completed for the day. A few minutes later my machine beeped at me and shut off. Odd. Maybe it was off balance? Open the lid to discover that hot metallic odor was coming from the washing machine. It won’t run. It’s only two years old. Now that repair will take precedence over the taillight repair.
Mr. Washing machine repairman can’t come until next week to tell me what’s wrong with said machine, and who knows if it’ll be fixed that day or not. I do a lot of laundry. I can’t wait that long.
To cry or not to cry. These things are small potatoes in the scheme of life. The very fact that I have repair issues to deal with means I’m blessed to have a nice car and appliances in the first place. So. I won’t cry. This is where resolve sets in.
Tuesday morning I hauled the double washbins that were my grandma’s out of my laundry room and out the backdoor. Years back I asked for them because they were no longer being used at her house and had been stored out in her back garage. I wanted them so I could wash oversized items and rugs without running to a laundry mat. I also have fond memories of using these washtubs on laundry day with her. It wasn’t until the 80’s before she bought a modern washing machine. My NEW machine with all of it’s fancy computerized stuff obviously can’t hold a candle to the tubs that have washed literally thousands of loads over the last half of a century. If only I had her ringer as well (which still works too by the way, it’s just at her house not mine).
Buckets of hot water and soap filled one side and I put a load of laundry in for a good soak while I went about other morning things. By noon my daughter and I had them hand washed, rinsed, and hung on the line. Thank God for gorgeous weather and the ability to make lemonade with lemons.
It’s Thursday today and this has been the daily routine. Not saying I’d like to continue this indefinitely, but just knowing that I can make good in a bad situation with knowledge and experience from an age gone by puts a bit of a smile on my face.
It’s true. They don’t make things like they used to. So maybe hang on to some of the past just in case the future isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
This week we find ourselves once again along the sandy rock laden shores of northern Lake Huron. Michigan has quite a few hidden gems and Rogers City is one of them. It is home to a lovely stretch of beachfront, shipwrecks, and one of our states most lovely lighthouses. 40 mile point never disappoints. The town itself has a limestone quarry and several nice little shops to visit. My matcha chai tea was a delicious treat this afternoon at The Painted Lady Cafe.
This is our third trip to Hoeft State Park and each time has been a very refreshing visit. Our favorite pastime here is the search for puddingstones. I mentioned them in a post back in 2017, the last time we made the trip. They are a conglomerate of many rocks rolled by currents and smoothed into pieces of unique stone resembling beautiful artwork.
No two are alike varying in color and size. Not too far out there are boulders too large for a human to move.
Today’s coolest find is pictured above. A washed up piece of ship wreckage. The timber is broken but still measures at least 16′ x18″x 2″ ….it’s old wood with holes from the iron rods that held this vessel together years ago. I have no idea which sunken ship this hails from, only that this piece was not on shore last night. Overnight we had two thunderstorms. I can only assume this artifact finally made its way to shore due to the increased current. As I sit here by the lapping waves my mind wanders to history. Michigans northern waters are full of it.
We needed this. We needed a few days to just enjoy God’s handiwork. We needed to have our imagination stretched again. Home life is great. I love my family, my home, my animals….I also have become far too much of a homebody. I get so comfortable in my little space and forget how grand the world outside is. The time and effort it takes to get away isn’t easy. It’s a lot of work sometimes, but if you make the opportunity you’ll not regret it.
We celebrate landmark birthdays throughout the years. Milestone years that mark certain passages into new horizons. When our last baby was born eight years after our next youngest I knew that I would pay attention to every one of these occasions all the more. He was our finale’. My last chance to enjoy motherhood.
Shortly after he was born we were making our way down the stairway one morning and I paused at a thought that hit me. It was hard to walk after a painful C-section delivery. He was a light little guy, but that descent was slow and careful. I stopped and took the moment in. Intentionally. Because I had had so much more time between him and his other siblings, I knew how quickly these days would be gone from me. I must take advantage of and enjoy every one them. There would be a day sooner than I wanted when I’d come down that stairway and the house would be quiet….my baby grown.
On my way down that same staircase the other day I remembered that intentional moment years ago. We just celebrated one of those milestone birthdays with our baby who is a baby no more. He’s a young man now. Inches taller than me, and climbing his way to equal his dad’s stature. A tear trickled down my cheek. I knew it would feel like it had gone quickly.
Look at those worn treads. So many trips up and down. There is still A LOT of life in this old house. The nest isn’t “empty”. Rough housing, raised voices, and laughter fill it’s rooms. Though there are hours of vacancy now that never existed before. Older children are gone off to work, and that baby…ya, he likes to live outside as much as possible.
After church the other day my husband and I were at a restaurant for lunch and we saw familiar faces. A young man and his wife who both went to school with our oldest kiddos sat there in a booth. They had their baby boy with them. Six months old already. I couldn’t resist the urge to share my stairway moment and like so many older people used to tell me, I insisted “it’ll go fast.” They smiled like I used to. It’ll hit them one day too.
creatingalovelyhome 