Hope

I am in beautiful Maine. The world holds so many variations of beauty. What a gift to travel.

The reason for my travel is not so wonderful, as we are enrolling one of our sons in a wilderness therapy camp. Our town has suffered four suicides in the last year. Our young people, barraged by social media and a world that holds nothing back in terms of the suffering going on daily, have such a hard time believing that this world is a beautiful place. They are losing hope. Even being raised in a bucolic setting with a family who loves him dearly, is not necessarily enough protection from the angry tentacles and angst of the dark side of social media.

I heartily believe that there is good and bad in just about everything. It can be a hard part of parenting to show and teach your child this. Self control begins with loving yet firm boundaries. Self-doubt and second-guessing comes more readily to some parents than others. I'm thankful that it is almost foreign to my husband, because he helps balance me. At times, difficult decisions need to be made.

Our daughter recently gave us a book called "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron. I am working through it. It was originally written a couple of decades ago when Julia developed a method of unlocking creative potential. What strikes me is her acknowledgement of the great creative force that ties us all together. Some call it God, some call it a "force," whatever. The way she describes it is non-offensive to anyone, in my mind, and applicable to anyone's belief system.

The truth is, we are created by something or someone that is the author of all creativity. Even if one does not believe in intelligent design, then we are amazingly complex and incredible in our Neo-Darwinism. Creativity is part of the intelligent human brain. I highly recommend Cameron's book.

Perhaps I will write more again, it certainly has been a long time since the last post. In the meantime I will be praying a lot for our son. I want him to see that despite challenges and suffering, the world is truly a beautiful place, and worthy of our hope and unique gifts.

Spring Once Again

       I suppose I can remember the onset of forty-some Spring seasons. I marvel at how happy I am that it has come again, though--as if there were some chance it would not. This winter was not terribly cold, or snowy, but I was ready for it to end and to be warm again.

       Walks around the farm are so beautiful. Tiny frogs are jumping around the banks of the pond. Trees are flowering and leaves are appearing in that early chartreuse color that is such a contrast to grey and brown. Robins and Downy Woodpeckers and Bluebirds have returned. A great heron has been feeding at water's edge, and migratory flocks of geese are passing overhead.

       With the change of seasons comes a reminder of new life and rebirth. I can't imagine living in a place without four seasons, but that is only because it's all I've ever known. Our foreign exchange students have told me what it is like for them. Certainly Stephania, who came at the start of winter here, is happy to be able to go outside without a heavy coat.

       The dogs are seeking shade to lie in to escape the sun beating down on their still-thick fur coats. The horses are happy to be eating grass after the winter of dry hay. We need to be careful with the ponies. Spring grass has a lot of sugar in it, and they can get sick from it and founder. I have been putting them in and out of stalls, the riding ring, and even the chicken run. We gave away the last of our chickens before the winter. They were older and had pretty much stopped laying.

       Gus wanted a couple of bunnies and so we made a condition that he clean out the chicken coop as an eventual home for them. He worked over Easter break and carted loads and loads of manure as well as a load to the trash dumpster and a few loads to the barn.

       Gus got the bunnies. They are adorable. We got them from the local farm store, which also had ducklings and chicks. Another hallmark of springtime. Margaret asked why bunnies are associated with Easter. The bunny motif was certainly strong in our dining room.

       I told her that bunnies are born in the springtime, that Easter is in the Spring, and that Christians believe that Jesus rose from the grave at Easter to give us new life. We drove past a local farm and saw that the farmer had erected a huge wooden cross on his hill. New growth is everywhere. It happens again and again, every year. Frozen ground thaws and green appears.

       Frozen hearts can thaw, too. Minds stuck in a belief pattern can change. 

Life can indeed begin again.

The Big Picture

       The other day, the automatic horse-waterer froze in the pony pasture. I had this terrible feeling that it might be frozen; I had not checked it for a day. Horses need great amounts of water in the winter. Ponies, too. I fought a feeling of dread.

       I was about to take the kids to school and drove over to the fence by the waterer to check it. It was frozen solid, meaning it had probably been 24 hours. I felt awful for the ponies. But then I looked over and saw that somehow, someone had left the water spigot outside of the pasture on full-blast. Though we will pay significantly more on our water bill this month--all I could do was smile! Each of the family members denied having left it on.

        Because it had been, a frozen river, with just enough liquid for the ponies to drink, coursed through the pasture.

       The kids jumped out of the van, so enchanted by the strange ice formations from the spraying and splashing of the water. Icicles and mushroom-like mounds covered the fence and ground around the spigot.

       It was beautiful. Any other time I would have been angry at whomever left the water on all through the frigid night. But this was a blessing.

       I worry too much, it is true.

       God tells us that we shouldn't worry, that we should think on good things, and that there is always hope. I'm not sure how, when martyrs were confronted with the end, they managed  not to worry, that they had good thoughts or had hope.

       This is difficult to ponder. God assures us He will be there, that He will save us, and that there is hope. Either this is absolutely true, it is only true sometimes, or it is false. If either of  the latter two are true, then, we can't really rely on God as Christianity describes Him. 

       My late husband's mother, Grammy, modeled to me that we can always have hope in God, that we can hand Him our worries, and that we really can trust Him with the future--to see the "big picture." If we are truly His instruments, here to "know and to love and to serve Him in this life and in the next," then the thing that brings fear most--death--truly has lost its sting. She remained inspirational throughout her suffering and death. "I have to focus on all the blessings God has given me," she told me.

       Recently, I was describing to a salesperson, as we were getting to know each other, how as a hospice nurse I am not depressed. There is a hallowed feeling of witnessing something so very profound. The salesperson tried to understand; she said, "Well, I guess there is some kind of thankfulness because the person is no longer suffering."

       "It's more than that, though," I explained. "As Christians we believe that this world is only temporary, but that our life with God is forever. Heaven is what we were made for. It's as if this life is like being in the womb. When we are born, it is joyful." I tried to explain another way,  "The caterpilar has to spend time in the cocoon before it can break free and emerge as the beautiful butterfly it was meant to be."

       It is fine if she did not agree or understand. I don't pretend to have it all figured out. 

       But I will try to avoid worry, to think on good things, to always hope in God, because I trust that He sees the "big picture."

Breaking Back-- Or Making Lemonade

       What does it mean when your back hurts to the extent that you have to cancel your chiropractor appointment? 

       It means more tea, more Downton Abbey reruns, and "making lemonade from lemons." My lemonade is having the time to write. 

       I texted my practitioner that the Bible says "laughter strengthens the bones." She knows that scientific studies have supported this, but I asked her if she thought that such strength extended to ligaments and pinched discs. I got the "LOL" reply, and then she texted that she believed it certainly did.
       We've all been taught to try to look at negative things with a positive light. Sometimes it is easier than others. I am a member of a Facebook group whose sole purpose is to support each other through arthritis. If it were not for our mutual "misfortune," we would not have found each other. We would not be able to connect across oceans and countries. We have created a virtual community of support. There is something pretty miraculous about that.  Would we prefer to be cured? Sure, but life is not perfect. And so, God's grace has an opportunity to flow...like the most delicious lemonade.

Everything But The...

       Sometimes I feel I've tried everything but the kitchen sink. Actually, in respect to raising kids and home management, I probably have.  My stick-to-it-iveness is the problem. Or maybe it's that in a very large family no day is like the one before; there are schedules and sports and appointments. For years, there was a new baby every 14-20 months. I wondered when things would return to normal.

       Then I realized that normal for us was the state of flux. I've read so many books on organization. I wrote a blog post about some of them. Each has something very helpful, though it is unrealistic to expect just one to fit our family long term. I still like referring to them. Life just keeps changing. Marie and Susanna have moved into an apartment together, we have no foreign exchange students and so we "only" have 6 children at home. They are all school-aged, which is wonderful. For the first time in literally decades I was home alone some days of the week this past school year.

       The children are on summer break now. In times past we organized home "camp" days but this summer they range in age from almost 13 down to 6 and the older boys aren't excited about "Pirate Day," or "Astronaut Day." We still do a lot of learning serendipitously, though. We've been playing with the animals more, and their chores involve feeding and watering them, moving the ponies from stall to coral, and collecting eggs from the chickens. It used to be that I had to limit television. Now it is limiting computer and X-box time.

       Yesterday they played for hours outside, the weather cool. It was so much fun to see them running around with backpacks and plastic Nerf guns, working as a team. Ben would stop to roll around on the grass with some dog or cat. Max and Gus moved stealthily into the barn to avoid enemy wasps. Thankfully, no stings.

       They also love swimming in the pond (all swim well), paddle-boating and canoe-ing. Red is a great color for the canoe because I can locate them easily on the pond. Gus loves it especially. We have taught them boat safety, and our pond is small.

       There are still days where they claim boredom; those are the days I send them outside. "What do you think children have done all the thousands of years before air conditioning and computers??" "Aw, Mom, that was the olden days--kids do different things now!" Watching them play Army yesterday reminded me of playing with my brothers forty-five years ago. It doesn't have to be so different. Many families have stricter rules and even no computer time or X-Boxes. I respect that.

       Instead of feeling like I've failed at a given tasj, I remind myself to take from it what I can and move on. That's not to say I don't get down about it sometimes.  I tell myself, like Dori from "Finding Nemo" repeated: "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming." Jesus told the disciples that if a town didn't welcome them to kick the dust off their feet, to keep doing what they were meant to do. Disappointment and negativity can render one ineffective and hopeless.

       Not today! Today I had the kids formulate a contract of turns on technology and initial it. They abided. Some broke off to play piano, clarinet and guitar, and the others went to the pond.

       Then we made cookies. A double batch in my giant new Kitchen-Aid mixer. Marie and Susanna are excited to inherit my old tilt one. Over the years they helped mix thousands of cakes and cookies with it. Before they were born I used it to bake wedding cakes and birthday cakes and our family's favorite Dobos Torte. Unless you have a Hobart or a commercial mixer, I think a Kitchen-Aid mixer is the best small appliance. My KSM-90 is still going strong after 28 years. I hope my new larger capacity mixer will, also.

       So here's the recipe. "Everything But The...Kitchen Sink Cookies." If you don't have a Kitchen-Aid, it will be quite the upper body workout. I doubled the recipe, but that won't work in a 4 or 5 qt. bowl. You'd need this baby (or a Hobart--lucky you!):

Everything But The Kitchen Sink Cookies 

Beat together:

1 cup butter, softened

1/2 cup white sugar

1 cup dark brown sugar

1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla

Beat in:

2 eggs

Stir dry ingredients together, and mix in slowly:

1/2 cup coconut flour

1/2 cup unbleached white flour (I like King Arthur Brand)

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

Stir in very slowly:

2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats

1 cup organic dried coconut (or whatever you have)

1/2 cup chopped pecans

1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

When well combined, drop by tablespoonful onto an ungreased cookie sheet and bake til golden in a 350 degree oven (about 10 minutes). Cool on baking rack.

You can add other ingredients. A basic oatmeal cookie is one cup flour and three cups oats. I have purchased gluten free oats before and ground some to make the 1 cup of flour. I've added crispy rice cereal, granola, different types of chocolate chips and different nuts. You could even add cinnamon or some almond extract. Today I thought dried cherries would be good, but I didn't have any on hand.

       Have fun with the recipe. If I struck a cord with you, if you are also an organizational book junky yet have failed to find just he right system, perhaps we're ok the way we are. Just be sure to take one day at a time and to kick the dust off your feet from the methods that don't work. Keep moving on and doing what you do best.

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.

Childhood Friends, Lifelong Friends

  
       I am looking forward to seeing two of my oldest friends later this week. We have not been together--the three of us--since 2000 when my late husband passed away. Though Bev lived hundreds of miles away with a busy speaking and teaching schedule, she was by my side within hours of Bob's death. Sandy was there within minutes. I count myself so blessed to have friends like them.

       My work colleagues cautioned today, "Don't get into trouble!" The worst I can imagine us doing is laughing too hard and annoying some around us. I admit I feel I will become childlike again. But I have gotten pretty "in-touch" with my inner child. My temperament allows it. A Myers-Briggs INFP, a melancholic with sanguine as well as phlegmatic flares, I guess I am a natural contemplative.

     My brother once commented that I was more like my mother than he. "I wish I could care more about things sometimes, like you do." I admitted that I wished sometimes I was not so empathetic: it takes a lot of energy. It also leads to some disillusionment, as I have intimated in the last couple of posts. Without disillusionment, though, is life realistic? For many it leads to anger and distrust. I reflected in my last post about trusting God with the big picture, and that thankfulness was a key to true joy. Happiness is momentary and transient. Joy is a cenote: a wellspring under the surface.

        It is thought that the Mayan culture, which grew to an estimated 20 million occupying the Yucatan Penninsula in the first millennia A.D. survived because of thousands of miles of cenotes: underground caverns full of water. Crystal clear. Life-giving. Though joy may be unseen and unfelt because of tragic life events, that spring is ever there, ready to well up when we least expect it. I felt it--not as happiness, but of peace--when riding in the ambulance just after Bob's death. I felt it again a month later driving to my Mom's place in South Carolina. One minute wondering how the world could go on, the next feeling the presence of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter--it seems implausible. The Peace of God which passes all understanding. Truly.

          Sandy and Bev and I have differences, especially in regard to politics and religion. We all three feel emotions very deeply. We are testimony to deep love and understanding and tolerance. I think that much of what Sandy and Bev and I will talk about will revolve around our life experiences and how we've met the challenges faced. We'll talk about memories as well as menopause. Sometimes life events are themselves the cause to ponder, and sometimes they are the signal that it is time to ponder the past. Tears as well as laughter can heal. I plan on much of both--with some feasting and thankfulness and joy.

When We Can't Pick Up All The Pieces

     I had one of those great long talks with an old friend the other day. The kind that realigns you; where you bear your worst fears, relive sadness, reassess decisions made, and shed tears.  It is so important to have someone you can bear your soul to and who would never give you cause to regret that you did.

     Time changes things and that is inevitable. On the farm it is certainly true. I've chronicled the various animals arriving and the joys they brought. We still have joy, but we have had to live with some difficult losses. Annabell was never able to conceive and so we could not keep her. One philosophy about working farms that is difficult for non-farm folk to understand is that if an animal, or crop, or aspect, does not work in the plan, then oftentimes that part needs to be changed. Annabell was given to a very nice family. A cow named Sugar was sadly given away as well. Betsy was sold. Who would guess that I would develop a severe allergy to cow dander. I tried everything. It was very hard to give up the dream, but I started the process.

     And then one February morning I walked into the pasture and Flossy (Betsy's daughter I hadn't sold yet) had dropped a beautiful calf. We were so surprised; we did not know that at 9 months, Flossy had been bred when our neighbor's Gelbvieh bull kept hopping the fence. I'd figured Betsy was sold pregnant, but never dreamed that little Flossy was with-calf. We named him Friday for the day he was born and the dream that Marie recently had about a calf. Flossy produced delicious Jersey milk and I tried milking again. We were blessed with new tenants who wanted to milk, plus a slew of other friends who wanted to, and things worked well.

     We even bought another cow, with great plans in mind. May was a beautiful Jersey/Red Angus cross. She had a gorgeous brindle coat and she was bred. Not too long after, she dropped a bull calf and we named him Norman. All was well, but then a really tragic event occurred. One night a pack of feral dogs attacked and killed all six of Marie's sweet Nubian goats. We had hand raised most of them. Marie was away at college and for that I was thankful; the sight was one I won't forget. Over the next few weeks an anxiety came over me that was not easily shaken off. It was a long process of trying to make all of the other animals (the small ones) safe. My cow allergy worsened. I didn't sleep well.

     A month later we found May lying still in the pasture. She had died suddenly of bloat. We had a vet come out and run tests; it was a freak occurrence. I wondered what God was trying to tell us, to tell me. The stress became too much and we sold the rest of the cows--Norman to our neighbor and my dear Flossy and her Friday to a wonderful homeschooling/farmsteading family.  We also let go of one pony to the same family. In retrospect it was a dream which was not meant to last. That is what I spoke to my friend about, in sadness.

     Like the best of friends she listened, and she told me she was so sad for me. Then she said something that maybe I wasn't prepared to hear earlier, but could now. She said what a blessing there was even in the sadness. It was obvious to think she referred to the people who were gifted with our animals, and even that Marie was not home to see what happened to her precious goats. That was not all she meant. What she said that resonated deeply was, "There are so many people who will never do the things you have done, who will want to but have no farm or no means to have pets. But you always wanted horses and cows and goats and more. And for a brief time, you got to live that life of milking cows and raising goats. Maybe you will again, maybe you won't. But you did."

     She went on to tell me something we'd talked about before: "Life is full of so many puzzle pieces. We may never see them all put together, but our Lord does. He sees all the stages, all the beauty, the tragedy, and even His finished picture. We can trust that the pieces are placed before us by Him, that we can pick them up and turn them around and stare intently before placing them. Some we can move around. Some need to be put aside for another time." She made it sound so comforting, so deep and wise and true. Life would always involve change, and it would not always be easy, but we could trust the true builder of the puzzle, and we could be thankful for the pieces, even aspects of the difficult ones. Love, thankfulness and trust were the keys to working the puzzle.

     Driving home one day, pulling into our lane I saw the Robins return. Always a moment of joy in those first days, I remembered when my Mom was alive and the game she played with our landlord, Mrs. Mayo. Who would see the first Robin return after the long winter. I smiled and thought of Mom. My heart ached with missing her, a tear fell down my cheek but was replaced by a smile. What memories! I realized that some of the puzzle pieces would stay exactly where they were for the rest of my life, not to be picked up again. I might not see the finished picture, but much of what had been laid down and interlocked carefully--or even hastily or even forced--was there to stay.  And that was okay. It continues to be built. A beautiful and unique picture in the journey of a life.

Saint Francis Was Not Only About Animals

  

     I've written a post before on organization. I've thought many times that if only I could be as organized as I would like (as I "should" be) then I would not suffer from discouragement.

     Appearances are not always what they seem. We know that. Certainly the lives of famous people and their problems are evidence enough. Yet I think many of us don't let the lesson sink in completely.

     In the last few years a couple of my friends--whom I confess I almost worship because of their beautifully behaved children and their spotless homes and knack of doing all so perfectly--have suffered with discouragement, too. I think to myself...they shouldn't! They are doing everything as I would wish to. They have lived an ideal, still married to their sweetheart from a young age, consistently parenting their children from day one, responsibly living...the list goes on.

     I have read that discouragement stems from pride. Perhaps. I get that. I feel as though I've had a lot of humble pie thrown at me in the last ten years. Truly, I know I'm lacking in a lot of ways. Bruce loves to joke with us, "I am the humblest man you will ever know!" as he raises his eyebrows and looks up at the sky. I'm certainly not implying that.

     I post beautiful things because I want to share them. I do not, however, want to give the impression that all goes smoothly each day. It doesn't. I have more positive friends who seem to rejoice in their challenges! And some who don't seem to have many challenges. I sometimes wonder why there is so much challenge!

     On the other hand, I have friends who have hit rock bottom. Unbelievable events have transpired for them. I have friends who have lived through far more difficulties and tragedies than I have. And I've read about people like Immaculee Ilibagiza in "Left To Tell" whose stories are horrifying and inspiring at the same time. I reprimand myself for my discouragement, then.

     Our lives are unique to us. Our families are unique. Our situations differ. The truth is, though, everyone at some point feels discouraged. Some momentarily, some frequently and some chronically.

     Pride aside, isn't it also from a desire to want to be a better person?  Christians believe they will never deserve the salvation they believe in which is through Christ. He loves us and paid the sacrifice for our failings even knowing us at our worst. We are worth something very special, then. Not "worms on a dung heap" as some Puritan writers may have proclaimed.  Knowing this, we want to please Him as a child wants to please his parents. We want to love creation as He loves it.

     Saint Francis was born in the Middle Ages into a prosperous family. His father was a respected merchant. Francis had a life of priviledge and excess. He ate well, he partied well, he "loved" well. He went on one of the Crusades to save the Holy Land. He returned disillusioned and sad. He saw the atrocities of war and the evil that man was capable of. We would have called it PTSD today. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He did not speak for a long, long time. During that time he prayed to and listened to God.

     He had to come to terms with his humanity, what he was guilty of, what his fellow man was guilty of. Most of us know the rest of the story. He left his home, his money, his priviledge and rebuilt the church named San Damiano. Other men followed him, his life became simple and pure and self-sacrificing. He took care of the sick and the poor. He shared God's love with them. Later, he visited the Pope for permission to continue and the Franciscan Order was started. His childhood friend Saint Clare was inspired to start a second Franciscan Order, The Poor Clares living a similar "code," or rule.

San Damiano

     I think we all need to come to terms with our failings. When offered back humbly to God as imperfect gifts, God can bless us, and many others. It seems counter-intuitive.

     We'll all struggle at times. I pray that you will not withdraw from others. Try not to avoid those who can help. It is a tendency we have and sadly, divided we are more easily conquered. Talk to a friend, a priest, a pastor, a counselor. There is more ahead. There is more to give.

Saint Clare and Saint Francis

     Our society seems to be teaching us that we are at the center of our world, that we deserve fill in the blank: wealth, happiness, anything we want. But the truth is, true joy is in giving, not getting. In acceptance and obedience. Our culture despises the latter term. But obedience to an authority we trust, that is good, is something we have taught our children through the ages.

     Saint Francis gave it all up. He lived a poor beggar's life. And he gave amazing things to the people of his time, to the suffering, to the lepers. And to us all.

     When discouraged  remind yourself that you are "a work in progress." Pray and seek help and put one foot in front of the other to keep trying. God doesn't give up on us. We are precious to Him.

Saint Francis Prayer

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

 "I have been all things unholy, if God can work through me He can work through anyone."

Saint Francis of Assisi 

From a Glass of Milk

Community. We had friends over for dinner last night. They have six girls close in age to our six youngest. Our active, noisy kids, who seem to fuss a good bit with each other played amazingly well together. Most of mine are boys and we loved how the girls and boys all ran around the farm, petting animals and not having issues with "they only have girl toys" or "they only have boy toys." Thirteen children ran around and parents shared great conversation and a thrown-together meal for all.

Our friends are so connected in our community. Veritably everyone I talked about the husband piped up, "Oh, he's my cousin," or some relation. We laughed but it's something that makes our community special. Sure, some relationships may erode or fade over time and people may act like strangers, but on the positive side, there is an accountability factor. Would that we felt that with all of our neighbors. A connectedness even deeper than blood. Something more spiritual. As Christians might call it, "being part of a body."

We laughed some more, we shared fresh milk from my cow Betsy and talked about earlier times. About a connection with the land and soil. We talked about how Betsy's milk changes flavor slightly, depending on what she has eaten. A Jersey, she has a rich, creamy milk (the cream is amazing, really) with a yellowish color you don't see in the supermarket from the beta-carotenes and vitamins she consumes in our pasture grass and her alfalfa. There are probiotics in her milk that are so healthy for our immune systems. And it all comes from the soil we live on, the rain that falls on us and the sun that shines down over us.

We can live on sterilized, fortified products--and antibiotics and lists of medications. Those can be life-saving and good. But in an unbalanced relationship, they can be unhealthy for the body. Somehow, drinking this natural milk, eating local organic beef and vegetables and even local honey feels healthy. It feels like living in relationship with the land I'm living on. In a similar way, living connected to the people around me--not stuck in front of the television or gaming device or computer--working with them, volunteering, truly caring for them, living in community with them is lifeblood to the body. One gives and thereby receives.

Man was not created to be alone, but to live in community. There is a place for solitude, retreat, and cloistered communities. There are certainly different gifts and temperaments. But we were made for each other. We are healthiest when in communion with each other. I pray that you are able to find your place in the body that comprises all of us, locally and globally. Start right where you are. Prayer is the most powerful connection and effective means.Give thanks for what you do have, not lament what is missing.  Find God right where you are and share His love.

A Happy Thanksgiving to you!

Suzy
The Abbey Farm

Ebbs and Flows and the Farmer's Spirit

 
    It amazes me that a year ago I shared pictures of the flooding Missouri River. Farms were ruined, families moved because of it. Those who stayed planted crops that, up until May, were doing great. Then the drought hit. Luckily, most harvested an early hay crop. But the corn that started off so energetically, a foot high by June, barely produced any ears and was dry by early August. God bless those farmers who persevered after the flood only to be hit by a drought the next season.

     Hay has doubled in price. There is less of it. I believe hopes of a second cutting were unfulfilled. It's a vicious cycle because the cattle still need to be fed. We normally don't start feeding hay until November. We have begun already.  Food prices will soar because of the limited hay and corn crops. If you didn't know it, corn products and by-products are in many, many foods.

     It is good if you can put in a garden for your family or be a member of a local community supported agriculture group. We have the latter here in town and we're members. I'm glad to support the local farmers. I keep thinking I'll get a garden in "this year," but it always seems to turn into "next year." It will happen one day. Mary Pat's school-bus driver tells me about her prolific garden. She crochets a blanket for her grandchild while Mary Pat is being strapped in, and she tells me all about it. Each year she puts up hundreds of quarts of vegetables. Her hard work and self-sufficiency inspire me.

     The farmers do, too. Our neighbors have been farming for generations. Vince helps us set round bales (giant five and a half foot diameter hay bales) with his big tractor. One day the front axle broke as he was lifting the bale high. Vince, almost 70,  popped down, rubbed his chin and just stared. I was impressed with his calm. I told him I'd probably be react by whining and fussing. He just looked at me with wise, clear eyes and said, "But that wouldn't change things." He turned back to the tractor and continued thinking out loud, "I have a brother with a welder, and I'll just get this off and have him help..." Later on I told his wife how thankful I was that it had happened at such a slow speed and not as he was driving over here. She said, "Well, we would've dealt with that, too."  I pushed, "But Vince could have been hurt!" She answered with the same calm as her husband. "We're farmers--that's part of farming life and we deal with what comes."

     Deal with what comes. A farmer I'd mentioned last fall during the floods was one who had to move. He's moved yet again to another farm on higher ground. He and his wife are happy. It could have been so much worse. They have each other and their family. And this new farm is actually closer to her parents and her church. It is probable that his crops have not done well this year. But I bet he'd be thankful that they weren't wiped out like last year.

     A verse in the Bible has been lived out by the farmers I know: "Be anxious for nothing, but by prayer and supplication make your requests known to God. And the Peace of God which passes all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Phillippians 4:6-7)

     I'd do well to remember that.

God bless you,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm

There are ways to support our country's farmers both locally and on a larger scale...check out Farm Aid. And don't forget to keep them in your prayers.

Seasons of Life

     My friend, Christy (http://artisanfarmsteadliving.blogspot.com), shared a soothing piece of wisdom. We were discussing all of the things we've accomplished or attempted, and how puzzling that each of those experiences was not active in some way in our present lives. For example, in the past I've baked cakes for weddings and for a restaurant. She's crafted and sold handmade dolls. We've each tried various diets (macrobiotic, low-protein, low-carb) but have not settled on "the one way of eating." I've actively foxhunted, ridden competitively and run races, but am not now. Of course, we agreed, you can't do everything. But I have felt that I should be incorporating most things, especially if they were healthy, helpful, or fun. If I'm not doing "it all," shouldn't there at least be some evidence of having done or learned these things?

     I have wondered that at my age, shouldn't I be a lot further along in peaceful, organized self-actualization? Will I finally feel I'm "there" when I'm 80? The last two months have been busy on The Abbey Farm. Christmas, illnesses, two new ponies, a new goat, two new puppies, a teen with a lead part in a play, new renters, and tragically, the death of a precious friend.

     Writing, usually a joy to me, fell by the wayside.

     The comforting piece of wisdom from Christy was this: It is natural that we go through "seasons" in our lives. The phases and experiences are like individual puzzle pieces. They may fit together well at one time or another, but the reality is that at times a piece is dropped off the table. For each season, the puzzle of our life looks a little different. The pieces on the floor are not reminders of failure, but of richness of experience.

     Once upon a time I dreamed with my Mom of owning a Bed and Breakfast together. We took a Mother-Daughter trip to New England in autumn and stayed at a beautiful B&B. We had a memorable time laughing and planning.  Life, however, went in a different direction. Mom passed away a decade later and our plans never materialized.

     I may not be doing everything the way I thought I would at this point, but who is? Life is good. It is busy, it is challenging, and though I may not do it all well, humility and thankfulness are the greatest lessons learned.

     What season are you in? Is it challenging?  I pray that God gives you the grace to trust Him; that however your path goes, it ultimately brings Him great glory, and you salvation. We are all works in progress.

God Bless you,

Suzy
The Abbey Farm

When we bought this farm, it had most recently been used as a Bed and Breakfast. I am now entertaining and working and cooking every day for the people I adore most--my family. I do make plenty of breakfasts. Perhaps I got my B+B afterall. And Mom's looking down from heaven smiling!