To Hold the Moment

The petals danced in the wind. 

Pale, pink blossoms showering the yard. 

Spinning, whirling.

Images of Anne of Green Gables

The White Way of Delight flutter through my mind. 

Delightful visions.

This tree. 

This moment. 

I want to hold it. 

The beauty.

To behold. 

If we choose. 

I may have missed the significance;

closed my eyes to what needed to be seen.

We dash through life. 

Event to event. 

Attempts to numb pain. 

Create a rush. 

Rare do we pause; 

until moments like this;

create the occasion to see.

The magnitude of loss; still present, 

the waiting on ct scans and organic transition still there. 

But for a moment. 

Time stood still. 

The holy touched the earth. 

Something greater than myself spoke life and

 breath into the deepest place in my being. 

A moment that transcended this life as we know it. 

I Chronicles 16:29
Give unto the Lord the glory due unto his name: bring an offering, and come before him: worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

Calves! They're Everywhere!

Sunshine spilled over the mountain this morning. 

Cool mornings force us to use heat. 

Hot coffee awaits me as I stumble to the kitchen. 

I run the schedule through my head. 

I beat eggs and try not to burn toast. 
I burn eggs and the toast is safe. 

I continue the run through of the schedule. 

There's school work and book work. 

Calves need to be feed. 

Oh those calves! 

They're everywhere!

Calves always mean Spring here on the farm. 

The Winter is shedding it's skin. 

Milk production will return to a more comfortable place. 

The "hold your breath" feelings dissipate a bit. 

Cash flow begins to improve. 

This year, however, we are in the final stages of transitioning to Organic. 

This will complete a challenging year long process. 
Life is like that. 
Challenging. 
Needing to go the distance. 
We can't be sure what will happen. 
We can trust. 
Each calf that is born is a gift. 
New life. 
Some days the mama's do what they were created to do. 
There are no problems. 
Other days there is trauma and trouble. 
The outcome not so pleasant. 
Through each of those births my farmer waits patiently. 
He watches. 
He lets the mama's do their thing. 

Yet he is never far. 

It is the picture of our Holy God. 
He is never far. 
He waits.
Patiently. 

Genesis 28:15
I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until 
I have done what I have promised you."

Even in the Rush. . . We Can Slow it Down

The sun shone this weekend. 
For the whole weekend. 

There were no extra activities. 
Time seemed to slow.
No rushing. 
Dinner with friends. 
The farm boy playing music. 
Time with my farmer. 
There was hand holding. 
Time to talk. 
Slow. 

Last minute guests at the guest house. 
Sheets on the line. 
Book work. 
Time for listening and dreaming. 
A fire at my partner in crime's home. 
Coffee.
Slow.

Soaking in the sun. 
Compost delivery. 
A ride in the truck to visit neighbors. 
No rush. 
Connecting. 
Each step an act of Worship. 
Intentional. 
Slow. 

I wrote the words,

"I just need to hang on until May," 

Our transition date to Organic Farming. 
I wrote it as if it was the day that will change everything. 

As if a moment in time will take all suffering away. 

A moment can change everything. 
A moment when your son looks into your eyes and says, "Good bye, love you." 
He bounds out the door with excitement. 

And never returns.
Moments can define us. 
Change us. 
But this. 

Hanging on until May. 

Will everything really change? 

Have I put my hope in a transition date? 
The thought causes me to wonder. 
The slowness of the weekend has caused me to wonder. 

I am so weary and tired from the struggle. 
Ways to make ends meet. 
Cash flow projections until my head hurts. 
So afraid of making the slightest mistake. 
Driving kids to activities. 
Micro managing a schedule. 
Each moment filled. 
Tense. 
Irritable.
It's not until I say the words,
"I just need to hang on until May,"
That I realize what I've done. 

Somewhere faith has walked out the door. 
My trust in God in the details has all but walked away. 
I've been holding on so tightly. 
I didn't even know it. 
Fists clenched. 
Jaw tight. 
Pain in my joints when I wake. 
Tension. 
Rushing. 
Here and there. 
So distracted.
A tool used by the enemy. 

I'm missing the lessons in the struggle. 

I do not have eyes to see. 
I shifted the gaze. 
Not by much. 
But enough. 
I moved from the here and now. 
To what lies beyond. 
Skipping through the day. 
Hoping it to end. 
To step into another. 
Just to have it done. 
While along the way. 
Lessons unfold. 
Moments of grace missed. 
Because I didn't slow it down. 
A fast paced life can't be helped. 
Dashing and living may be the season. 

It is the intent with which we live in that season that is crucial. 

There is much to learn in this transition season. 
Much I have missed while racing to have it over; 
to be done with the struggle. 
There is a little over a month to go. 
The hardest stretch. 
The greatest distance. 
I am shaking off the tension today. 
Unclenching my fists. 
God knows about this transition. 
He's aware of every step. 
He is in the struggle. 
He will not let us fall.
The sun is shining again today. 
I'm heading to make crepes for a house full. 
It's vacation. 
A night of sleep overs. 
Blessings abound. 
Lots of giggles. 
I am continuing to slow it down and have eyes to see. 
God shows his love for us; 
not when we're perfect and all refined. 
But when we're at our worst. 
Grace.
He came to change us. 
To make us more like him. 


Romans 5:8
But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: 
While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

The struggle is real. 
Life is challenging. 
But there are lessons to learn.
God is doing the work. 
It is by his Grace that we will complete this Transition. 
I want Him to receive all the glory. 
This farm is His. 
All that we have is His. 
Yes. 
Even our children are His. 
He is doing something beautiful. 
Even in the pain. 

Lord.
I continue to hand over all my life to you. 
This farm is yours. 
Do as you will. 
Guide us. 

We give you all the Praise and Glory. 

Celebrating my Farmer

He hangs yellow ribbons. 

This farmer of mine. 

He texts the college girl on her way home. 

She's on a bus headed our way. 

"He'll tie a yellow ribbon round the Old Oak Tree."

She needs to look up the lyrics. 

You tube will show her what her parents have neglected. 

We pull into the driveway. 

There are yellow ribbons. 

I wonder at it. 

Had I missed these before I left. 

She gradually unfolds the story. 

I marvel at the gesture. 

Yellow ribbons and a song to welcome his daughter home. 

His quiet ways. 

His gentle and thoughtful manner. 

And I marvel at this man. 

A man I have been married to for 22 years;

still surprises me in so many ways. 

He's turning 60 today. 

His life has held so much. 

Joy and heartache interwoven through the years. 

Somehow he has remained solid as a rock through these winding threads. 

Faithful. 

Steady. 

Full of hope. 

Even when the joy thief crashed through. 

There was hope. 

His faith unrelenting. 

Rising before the sun to milk;

 keeping his phone set to reading through the Ancient Word. 

The milking parlor his sanctuary. 

Prayer lists on the wall. 

Ever before him. 

A reminder; slow and steady. 

Life is not a race. 

I bristle at his pace. 

My harsh, abrupt ways; clashing. 

The world always beckoning me. 

Hurry. 

Fit more in. 

We're going to be late. 

While he waits in the background. 

Quiet and steady. 

The rhythm of the chores a cadence for life. 

Lessons to be learned. 

The way of the farmer. 

Strong. 

Resting. 

Solid. 

Unhurried. 

Nursing and coaxing life into being.  

Rising and falling with the milk prices. 

Taking each pitfall in stride. 

Present in each moment. 

Never wavering. 

He models the Father with each step he takes. 

A pace lost to most these days. 

He stops to tie ribbons for his daughter. 

He indulges a farm niece and helpers with rogue calves. 

His words are few. 

His actions resounding. 

Echoing for generations to come. 

A legacy. 

A faith. 

My farmer. 

Happy Birthday!