In The Moment

       It is good to live in the moment. We're not dwelling on the past, we're not wishing life away by focusing on the future--we are experiencing the present. But what if the present isn't so good? What if we are suffering?

       I think we grow up learning from society around us that suffering is something that "shouldn't be." Mistakes are not supposed to happen--on the road, at work, in the McDonald's drive-thru or at the hospital--and if they do...then sue. Three of my friends were told by their doctors to terminate their pregnancies because of bleeding and an inability to find a fetal heartbeat. All three women said no, and there are now three healthy boys running around our town. I am convinced that the doctors felt that they had to recommend termination, for if they had not and the woman had complications, they could have been sued. Sadly, mistakes happen.

       I think it's possible that a mistake was made on our farm and that may be why Mary Pat has deformities and developmental disabilities. I will never confront anyone about it. There is no real proof. But if it is true, then it caused suffering. I have written about Mary Pat; she is such a blessing. She always knows more people in the local supermarket than I do. It's like being with a celebrity. Children run up to her as I walk into school and hug her, or give her a high-five. Through our suffering, through her life, many people have been blessed in ways that could not have happened without Mary Pat's life.

       Living in the moment is hard at times, but it can also be blissful. Sitting on the beach with the waves crashing and soft breeze blowing. Hitting that run of moguls and the adrenaline surge of speed and skis pounding hard. Jumping a horse over a big fence. Embracing a loved one. A first kiss.

       But there are also illusions of a moment, aren't there? They can lead us to errors in judgement, to impulsive acts. The things that keep us from making these errors are formed in us well before that moment, in our interior lives, in our moral formation. I am told that developing virtues combats these errors in judgement. All the education in the world may not keep someone from committing a crime or a huge mistake, but virtue might.

       I came across a beautiful and tragic quote the other day:

       "Let Herodius now groan, she who is guilty of the impious murder,
        for it was neither love of God's law, nor life eternal that she loved,
        but the illusions of a moment."

       Shakespeare?
     

       No. It is a reading from the Byzantine liturgy regarding the death of John the Baptist. Herod kind of liked John, even though he didn't mince words about Herod's sinful lifestyle. Herod's wife, however, despised John the Baptist and finally devised a way to force Herod to kill him. Her daughter Salome (Herod's niece) danced such a beautiful dance one night that Herod told her to ask him for anything and he'd give it to her. Her mother whispered to her to ask for John the Baptist's head, and Herod, beside himself with conflict, gave in. Herodius got her revenge.

       Revenge sometimes feels good in the moment. So do big mistakes--like infidelity, sin, porn, getting drunk when we shouldn't. Later, we may regret it terribly. At the moment it felt and seemed good!

       Moments are indeed precious. Illusions of a moment assert that the moment is more important than wisdom and judgement, than right and good, than even the One who created moments.

       I believe that God wants the best for us. I want to be grateful for my moments, even in the suffering ones. Christ suffered. We learn that to follow him means taking up our cross. That does not mean a cross of gold and happily ever after fairy-tale living. There will hopefully be some great moments, but there is no promise that life will be without pain. Ann Voskamp wrote an inspired book about her life, about the suffering of her family and how all was turned around for her when she focused on gratitude.One Thousand Gifts  is a book which changes lives. I hope you'll read it.

       And I hope you'll live solidly and gratefully in the moment, that you'll be wise and perhaps take some more moments before deciding on a course that you might later regret. Sacrificing that illusory moment might be the most fully in-the-moment thing we ever do.

Creator, Through The Created

   
  I've mentioned that I teach a college Nutrition class. We hosted two speakers in the last week, both farmers. One farms thousands of acres and the other, hundreds. Both are successful men with wonderful families; both are open about their faith in God and how it drives their worldview and business practices. Both are ethical, intelligent and caring. One farms conventionally and the other organically. The students have so much to think about!

     What struck me was that each spoke about God openly. Each stayed after to offer sage wisdom and advice to students. They cared. Neither man was asked to speak about his beliefs or faith, and yet it was clear that in farming the land they came to know God more deeply. I have friends who are interested in crystals, some in art, some in the oceans, some in saving women from human trafficking, some interested in climate change. From the perspective of a Christian, I believe that the Creator is drawing them to him through nature--through his creation. They may see him differently, or they may not yet acknowledge him. Christians are human and imperfect but their God offers choice. He sings a love song which is heard and experienced through the senses in many ways. And he awaits his beloved.

Kansas Mangroves

      
       My students in class had never heard of mangroves. It is understandable, as they are young and we are in Kansas--pretty far away from mangroves. No, they are not a place to find men, though you can find man living in harmony with them. Mangroves are an ecosystem far from Kansas, but which impact it, nonetheless. We have all heard of how the destruction of rain forests affects the planet. People breathe oxygen; plants "breathe" CO2. In an age where we're really studying the effects of carbon in our atmosphere, I find it astounding to learn that mangroves sequester (breathe in, if you will) up to five times more CO2 than the rain forests on the planet. That is significant.

        It is also significant that we have destroyed 35% of the world's mangroves in the last few decades, with an estimated 1% destroyed each year. Shrimp farming, coastal development, resorts and golf courses are some of the causes of destruction.

       So what is a mangrove? It is a coastal ecosystem in the subtropics and tropics. Trees and shrubs grow in this shallow, watery area at the edge of saltwater bodies, and provide nurseries to young fish, shellfish and marine mammals. I read that some sharks will swim thousands of miles to return to the mangrove in which they were born. Mangroves also control storm surge, fight erosion and protect coral reefs. There are large projects and initiatives that have begun in effort to conserve mangroves and even to help generate new ones.

       My friend, Bev, is a scientist who has studied mangroves and their amazing contributions to so many ecosystems. My students were in as much awe of her work as I was when first hearing about it. Bev is a force for change on a global scale. My students looked at each other, wondering what they could do. Then they discussed the many things they could on a personal and community level that affected the world, and water runoff--and even mangroves. And we felt empowered and motivated.

       In a Nutrition class which covers topics like diet, vitamins and minerals as well as feeding the world, population growth and food availability--mangroves fit into discussion surprisingly well. Feeding our people and taking care of our planet can be done without hurting either. We just have to want to enough.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhLlqdPB_Rs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UcUwYZ9CI0A

Seeing Through Busy

          Every one of my friends will say that their life is busy. I remember seeing a commercial from the 1950s which predicted that all of the new electric appliances would give women so much more leisure time! I do not think they understood the "Size of a Woman's Purse" philosophy. I don't know if I made that up, but I do know that whatever the size of my purse--it is filled to the brim. The same with "extra time." It gets filled. It is too cliché to say that many of us don't know how to say "no." We want what is best for our loved ones, our family, our husbands and our community. Our cup fills, and runneth over.

          I have not posted for a very long time. Life has been busy. Our two oldest are now married! The next two are in college and all the rest are in school this year. So did I make more leisure time? Did I dive into housework? Neither. I took on three jobs and started my graduate degree. As I write this it seems nuts, but every decision at the time was a right one. Each job is very part-time. It is the masters in nursing education which takes the most time, but I have loved it. I think it would be fun to be independently wealthy and become a full-time student. I love learning so much. I also love inspiring students to learn when I tutor, teach a nutrition course and teach clinicals. And I love being a home health and hospice nurse on the weekends. So much good stuff!

          It is running over in good and not so good ways. I now remember what a conflict it is juggling home and work. We had another lovely young lady live with us last year. Stephania is back in Columbia and we miss her terribly. She was truly one of the finest young people I have ever known. She helped our family immensely. I have decided that I am taking a few months off my graduate studies to dive back into my most important role: Mom.  It is only a delay in my studies, and I know I won't regret the time with my family. The best of Moms take care of themselves, but they figure out how to give their best to their families. It is not always clear-cut, and sometimes it is difficult; but it is a great goal.

      

Peace In The Abbey

    

     September is a tough month for my late husband’s family. Bob died in early September. A year later, on the heels of 9/11, our two nieces were killed by a tornado at the University of Maryland. Bob’s birthday was in September, and his Mom died on the last day in September.

     Each year September rolls around with heavy certainty and each year we comment about its arrival and feel the crushing weight of grief. Perhaps the weight lessens over time, but there are moments. Those of us who have lost loved ones know that it is not easy. But we also know that we must go on, and we must find a way to take one day at a time, sometimes one breath at a time.

     Tonight the girls and I went to Mass at Benedictine College. It was a quiet, dark night, the students coming from all directions of the campus. The President smiled to each as he walked up to the door, calling many by their first names. There were smiles as we entered. The peace of the sanctuary was comforting, almost on a physical level. Mass was beautiful.

     The readings from the Bible were from Ezekiel, Philippians and Matthew. Father Justin talked about two kinds of lives, one that hears the Word and doesn’t live it, and one that both hears it and lives it, despite the difficulty, despite the cost. Life is not always fair, nor is it always easy. We have choices presented to us every day to do what is right. Each time we do we are given grace. Bruce and I tell our little ones that this is the stuff of the Real Superheroes. The more we do the right thing, the more grace we receive and the more natural it becomes. We become stronger.

     It is not easy with death and suffering.  I think of the Apostles, confused and shaken after Jesus’ crucifixion. How could twelve men have catalyzed the faith for millennia? What if they had gone into hiding and never emerged. No one would have blamed them. With the power of the Holy Spirit, breath by breath, day by day, they did what Jesus told them to do. And that is what we must--even in the dark times, the confusing times. We may not always succeed, but we must try. As Mother Teresa taught, success is not necessarily in “succeeding,” but it is in the diligent attempts filled with love.

     At the front of the Abbey is a mural. At the very top is an image of a Godly face—the Holy Spirit—breathing on Jesus and depictions of the life of St. Benedict. Tonight I realized that the breath was directed at the whole congregation. And I felt it.

     After Mass we quietly prayed and left the Abbey Church. Smiles and hugs and glazed donuts were exchanged outside. The energy and faith of the young college students was inspiring. Out on a dark Sunday night to worship and fellowship, and to do what Christ called us to do: to take his Word and to go and live it.

     God bless them. God bless us all, especially in difficult times. Help us to hold on, to trust Him. There are blessings to come. New life, love, births, weddings, peace and joy. We may feel momentarily unable, that we don’t have the power. But He does.

Suzy,

The Abbey Farm

Teenagers!

    

     I was recently in touch with one of my childhood friends (thanks to Facebook), and found myself explaining why I would miss yet another High School Reunion. Once upon a time I was Vice President of the Senior Class at Hereford High School. After graduation I helped organize our five and ten year reunions but after that, life got really busy.  It seems the best I can do these days is to try to find old friends and classmates on Facebook and spread the word.

     It’s our thirtieth now. I remember my High School as though it were yesterday. Mine was not a perfect experience, but it was a good one. Good teachers, good friends, good fun; a lot of learning, and not just of the academic sort. Sometimes I was just plain lucky--or had a great Guardian Angel!

     Wouldn’t it be fun to go back in time with all we’ve learned in our adult years? I now give such amazing advice to my High Schoolers! They may not think so, but they’ll see someday. A thought ran through my head the other day while talking to Bobby about his religion class on the drive to school (he is back for a second year!).  The thought was how much I enjoy the teen years. Perhaps it is because of my own experience, or that my job for the first decade and a half out of college was working with teens.  Whichever reason, the teen years are a unique time of experiencing life in a new way, an exciting and potentially confusing way.

     I’ve known teens who had little adult support. Though my teenagers might feel it would be a luxury to have the latest iPhone, computer, Wii, X-Box 360 (all in their bedrooms), and no curfew or dating rules, I’ve seen the downfalls of affluence abuse and neglect, and the absence of parental support and structure.

     “No,” I tell mine, "you can’t meet at the local donut joint at 2am because everyone else is,"  "you can’t date until you’re sixteen, "you can’t be out past 10pm on a non-school night" (a formal might be an exception but then there’s a list of rules there, too).  I need to be asked first if they get a ride home, and need to know that person’s number and home address. I’ve said no to certain events. But we talk it out, and though they may not like a particular decision they understand our rationale, and they know it is out of love.

     "Rules without Relationship=Rebellion." The relationship, the love, has got to be there.

     Multiply all that by the number of teens we’ve raised/are raising and it can be challenging, but rewarding. There are six more coming along in our household. I'd better like it, I guess, because Bruce and I will be doing it until we're nearly 70. Crazy? Maybe. Paradoxically awesome? I think so.

     Hence, there is little time for my reunion. I will miss catching up, but like a wedding, I’d probably still come away wishing for more time with each person. To my old classmates and friends who read this: "I am sad, and I will really miss you, but perhaps I’ll get there for the Grey-Hair-and-Cane Reunion.” I sure hope so. Life is precious. Teen years are no exception.

God bless,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm

PS: Thanks, Shari!

Floating

   "On a cloud," "subbing at work" or "like a boat" are more common applications of the word "floating." Lesser-known is "filing of horse teeth." Horses' teeth grow continuously until old age when they begin to wear down. It's a fairly steady process so that a horse's age can be determined by its teeth. Most of us are familiar with scenes in a book or movie when people argue over the age of a horse and someone yanks open the horse's mouth to look inside. Horses are grazing animals and eat for a good part of the day. Their side to side chewing action causes sharp edges to build up on the sides of their teeth. The sharp edges become painful and can interfere with eating. So we need to "float" them.

     I once created quite a problem when I had my horse's teeth floated. It was one of those times where the unfortunate or ridiculous happens, when certain conditions and events fall into place for no reason to annoy us, to confound us, or to get us angry. Though we don't have a choice that it has happened, we do  have a choice as to how we react.  Patience and temperance are virtues. I claim to be no expert, but it is my job to teach them to my children. It makes me feel better to consider that the Olympic coach who can't perfectly execute the "Round-Off, Back Handspring, Back Somersault"-- can teach someone to do it.

     I love the movie, "To Kill A Mockingbird."  I love Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch and Robert Duvall as Boo Radley. There are profound lessons in the movie. Lessons on prejudice, innocence, law, justice, disabilities, and my favorite: self-control. Atticus Finch is my hero. Watch the movie to the end and see why.

     We are called to be good examples to our children. We need to teach them self-control and self-reliance, as well as humility and how to accept help.  A predator picks off a victim and separates it from the herd. When we are separated and alone we are most vulnerable. God knows, we need each other. For help. For inspiration.

     Goodness, what has this to do with horse teeth? Our vet's patience was stretched, I'm sure, when I insisted he come to our farm to float old "George's" teeth. George was an extremely large Thoroughbred, standing 17.1 hands at his withers (base of his neck). That's 69 inches; an average sized man could barely see over his back. I was unable to find a trailer big enough out here in "Quarterhorse Land" to fit him. As much as I wished, I couldn't cut a hole in the top of ours and transport him like the circus animals on the train in "Dumbo." So I asked the vet to please come to us.

    
     Our vet has a great facility. He has the newest equipment. In the "olden days" of my youth we grabbed the horse's tongue, pulled it to the side which forced the mouth open, felt around bravely and somewhat blindly for sharp edges and inserted a rasp (large 1 1/2" X 18" file) to grind down the edges. Inevitably, a finger would get chomped on, scraped or cut. The vet has a much better system. He has a speculum which is inserted into the horse's mouth and secured by a halter. He has an electric burr grinder attached to the end of a two-foot metal pole with a trigger that starts it. And he has a stall-like "stock"  for the horse to be secured in, standing. The owner brings the horse to the facility. The horse is put in the stock, given a mild sedative and the halter/speculum is put in place. Then a lead shank (rope) attached to the halter is thrown over the top of the stock to hold the horse's head up, mouth open wide as the vet burrs away. It is very convenient and efficient.

     Coming to our farm was neither convenient nor efficient, but Dr. McCool graciously consented. Yes, his name is McCool. He is cool. He and his wife are both vets and are fantastic people. We are blessed. Truly. But I don't think he felt blessed that day.  I think we ultimately fell into that "extremely frustrating and annoying event" category for him. George had stood perfectly well all his life to have his teeth floated the old fashioned way. This, I knew, would be a breeze. After parking his truck near the barn, Dr. McCool drew up a smaller than usual dose of tranquilizer, explaining that Thoroughbreds were sensitive and did not need as much as some breeds. George patiently endured the injection, we placed the halter and speculum on him and Dr. McCool threw the rope attached to the halter up and over the rafter just above the stall door. It was tied at just the right height for the doc to peer straight into George's mouth. George was perfect.

     Until he began to sway. To Dr. McCool's "No, no...Oh, no...", George's twelve hundred pounds pitched forward and collapsed. Halter still tied to the rafter, he was suspended by his head.  I froze, wide-eyed, but Dr. McCool deftly pulled a knife from his pocket and sliced the rope. George fell. Thankfully, no broken neck. He lay there and groaned in a drugged stupor, his mouth still open wide.

     Dr. McCool probably wondered why he let this crazy redhead talk him into coming out. He threw all his equipment back into the truck. For me, all at the same time I was amazed, relieved, embarrassed and kind of--fascinated. George was breathing and relaxed and in no pain. He was lying on his side with his head sticking out of the open stall door. I couldn't help but get down on my knees and stare into his gaping mouth. I'd never seen it all so clearly and still. I reached deep inside and found the sharp edges of his teeth. I felt his velvety smooth tongue. A horse's mouth is cavernous. I kept repeating, "Wow!" Slowly and resigned, Dr. McCool came back with his equipment. With a sigh he dropped down beside me. His face was calm. I moved over, and he proceeded to finish the floating job--lying down.

     In the end, George had smooth teeth. I had a bigger than usual bill because of the farm-call. That was understandable.  What made it a little bizarre, was that in hanging George from the rafter, an electric conduit was crushed, cutting off electricity to half the barn and requiring yet another farm-call:  the Electrician. A floating that should have cost $25.00 ratcheted up to $300.00.  There was nothing I could do. On the bright side, George was uninjured and healthy. Dr. McCool went well beyond the call of duty.

     There are certainly tougher things that happen in our lives: serious illness, loss of work, death. The little annoyances are trial runs, so let's not sweat the small stuff. Our character should be shaped, not distorted. The tough stuff will come. I learned that when I lost my husband, Bob, suddenly. What sustained me was God, my family and my friends. People said, "I can't imagine what you're going through." The truth is, I couldn't either. I had no choice but to go through it. One breath at a time, one moment at a time. There was deep pain, but I can say there was no panic, no shock, only a oneness with the Holy Spirit that I cannot describe. I told Him He needed to carry me. He said He would. And He has, so very far.

     Stressful mornings before school, spilled milk, difficult teeth floating and annoying events don't compare with death. I have found myself remarking that I weather the tough stuff better than the small stuff. I need to work on my reactions to the smaller things for the sake of my children. They need good examples of patience and temperance and self-control.  Like Atticus Finch.  And Dr. McCool.


God bless you,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm

On Love

March!

     I love March. It's the month of my birthday. Jim will turn 3(!) and I will turn 48(!!). My brother plays poker with some old friends from our high school; they knew me as a little tomboy in pigtails. He tells me they wryly ask him from time to time, "Your sister pregnant yet?" I really don't mind their kidding. Gosh, I'm still worth a thought in their day! And regarding all our children, I feel amazingly blessed.

     Bruce and I have heard acquaintances say that they wanted to stop having children because they'd be too old a Dad or Mom. We do feel older and we're not as active as we were when we were younger. It is harder in some ways.  I've mentioned before that I wish we had more one-on-one time with each child. But really, even if their parents are in their sixties when they graduate from high school, I don't think Jim or Margaret would consider the alternative: their lack of existence.

     I will support, or defend if you will, what I believe in when questioned. We need to in order to understand each other. My friend Bev visited a few years ago when I was pregnant with Jim. Mary Pat was less than a year old. Our family had gone through a lot with her hospitalizations and surgeries and lack of concrete answers about her prognosis. Bev understandably was concerned and asked if I was thinking things through well enough. Was this wise to be bringing another child into an already stressed situation? Was it fair to the other children? Were my decisions imposing a type of life on my family that maybe they wouldn't want and would have no say in? All were valid questions borne out of love for me. We had a great few days together. Bev and I don't necessarily agree on all aspects of religion and politics but we have a bond that I can't explain. I love her like my flesh and blood. She is my friend.

 "Iron sharpens iron, and so a friend sharpens the countenance of a friend."

     A true friend does not avoid the tough questions, or tiptoe around difficult issues. By the end of her visit Bev said something beautiful. "You know, Suz, I don't necessarily agree with what you believe, but spending this time with you I understand why you do, and I won't worry about you." I do call it beautiful, because I know Bev loves me, and she showed it. She flew a thousand miles to be at my side, to help me, and to take the time to understand. We need more of that in the world. We may not agree with each other, but we can treat each other with love and dignity. If Bev truly believed there was moral flaw in what I was doing, she would have pointed it out, but would still have continued to love me.

      I am surprised at times with the non-Christian comments I hear regarding others, on the basis of morality. The comments do not reflect Christian love. Let me say here I am not a moral relativist. I do believe in natural law and morality and God and the Bible. I don't believe in "affirming everyone in their okay-ness." God's example of love was to give totally, even to the point of coming to Earth as a baby, a man, and offering himself as a sacrifice in atonement for the sins of the whole world. Jesus taught us how to love.

      Unfortunately, we fall short far too often in modeling that love. Ghandi was once asked what he thought was the biggest obstacle to the spread of Christianity. His answer: "Christians." Many of us are familiar with the words in the hymn, "And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love; yes they'll know we are Christians by our love." Yikes. I don't think we're always great examples. I won't go into politics ‘cause I'd be blogging for days. Suffice it to say: "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington." We need more politicians like Jimmy Stewart as Mr. Smith in the movie.

     We need to love more. We need to take the time to know each other and to understand each other. We may not convince or be convinced of a difference in beliefs, but to seek to understand is to love. To turn our backs and sneer or condescend is not love. Bruce came home the other day and at our traditional dinnertime "Highs and Highers," his "Higher" was "To find, in moral or political disagreements, a place of agreement somewhere and affirm that as the starting point for discussion." We can let our differences separate us, or we can build relationships of love. Idealistic, yes, and it gets pretty dicey on some issues. But no matter: we are called to love.

     Oh, part of me would love another baby in the house! I would. I am older and the body is weaker and the family is busy. I also love that I'm finally losing Margaret-baby-weight, becoming active again and finding just a little more time to spend with each child. I won't confuse selfish desires with purports of "God's Will." I will neither confuse selfish tendencies with the obstruction of it. Yes, I have a brain and will use it. I trust that like others, Bruce and I will pray about these things and decide what is best. Our family is our greatest earthly treasure.

     I look forward to my birthday! Life's been rough at times but it's been a very good life and I hope for many more years. I think of the sweet, diminuitive, elderly lady at our church. She is a widow now and moved from Italy long ago. I ask her how she is doing when I see her and she always answers the same. With a smile, and her thick accent she says, "What can I say? I'm eighty years old. I'm here! It's better than the alternative!" So, 48 isn't so bad. It's actually pretty cool. And when the Poker-Boys ask if this old gal is pregnant I'll laugh along with them. These kids are pretty downright amazing!

God bless you,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm

George Washington...

George Washington praying at Valley Forge

   
 Happy President’s Day! George Washington’s birthday. What a man. What a life! There is another George Washington whom I can’t help but think of today--and also hope to meet someday in heaven. George Washington Carver.

George Washington Carver

      "Oh, when the saints, go marching in, oh, when the saints go marching in! Oh, Lord, I want to be in that number! When the saints go marching in!"  As a little girl, I imagined these saints as I sang. We had a great music program in my public elementary school. Miss Forsythe taught us many folk songs and classics. I can still see her standing at the blonde-wood upright in our classroom, her tall frame crouched slightly, one knee bent, the opposite foot on the pedals. Gosh, what good times. Some teachers really have a gift for making learning exciting, and bringing it to life.

     In college I was blessed to have a gifted History professor. Dr. Kerr was short and rounded with black glasses and thinning, white hair. He wouldn’t have stood out in a crowd, but in our large lecture hall all eyes were on him. He could have been an actor, his lectures were so animated. He quite literally performed in front of our large lecture hall. I sat front and center. I loved his class. He was Sir Walter Raleigh, Paul Revere, Queen Elizabeth or Abraham Lincoln on any given day. He made history come alive. He was brilliant.

     I still love history. I have more books than I'll ever finish. My middle-aged brain is slower and it is constantly trying to keep tabs on our eight children at home, two living away from home, and our foreign exchange student. They are certainly more important than my reading list, but when there is time, I do enjoy learning about earlier times, those who have gone before us, and especially those with heroic, inspirational lives.

     A few years ago the girls brought home a book about George Washington Carver. Born in Missouri around 1865, he wanted so badly to go to school that he walked ten miles to another town where a black boy could attend. He was raised by a man named Carver, who respected freedom, was good to him and raised him much like a son.  The woman who owned the house where he stayed while going  to school asked him his name. He replied, “Carver’s George, Ma’am.” She told him he should have his own name, one with dignity. He chose George Washington Carver, after our first President, and Mr. Carver.

     He graduated from highschool, moved a few times, worked hard to earn money, and went to college. A Botanist, he later earned a Master's Degree and an Honorary Doctorate. We seem to remember him most for inventing multiple uses for the peanut but he really did so much more. He taught farmers how to rotate crops, using plants like the peanut in order to restore nutrients into soils depleted by cotton. He was peaceful, strong, amiable and helpful. When my boys complain about going to school I remind them how blessed they are. They get a lesson about George Washington Carver and the value of education.

     To be counted "in that number".  I sure am hopeful that both George Washington and George Washington Carver are! I am my own biggest critic and I doubt that one day I could be thought of as an example of anything, unless it’s an example of someone with a desire to do right, despite her own weaknesses and procrastination.  I find strange hope in reading that men like Columbus and Tschaikovsky never lived to see the impact they made on their world. I am sad that they died feeling as though they hadn't accomplished much (can you imagine?).  I will never discover another land or write a symphony! Nevertheless, I will keep trying to do better, and to live as Christ taught. I have ten amazing children, and I believe the world can be changed by them.

You are the only one who can uniquely do what God has called you to do. Here’s to ”marching in” together one day!

God Bless you,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm