Do You Ever Feel Like You're Just Spinning Plates?

You know that time, just before the sunrise?

When there seems to be a hush. 

Time stands still before the day break. 

Yeah. 

I missed it. 

I slept until 6:41. 

I woke with a splitting headache. 

I wanted to burrow back under the covers. 

You see. 

I love to sleep. 

I LOVE to go to bed. 

I look forward all day to going to bed. 

I may have written about this once or twice. 

I love to climb in to bed. 

Book in hand. 

Words woven into story or thought before me. 

Quiet. 

A time when it's ok to rest. 

The feeling of needing to be productive;

ended for a few moments. 
But I love to rise early. 

This morning.

I recoiled at being awake. 

Already behind. 

No quiet time. 

I missed the beauty of the sunrise. 

Coffee a necessity rather than a luxury. 

Isn't that the way?

When it's a luxury it is still wonderful. 

A treasure. 

A gift. 

Coffee; because I want it. 

Quiet time because it's available. 

But when the day starts hard and you're behind;

Coffee is a necessity and you run the list fast through your mind. 

The tyranny of the urgent. 

I bark sharply. 

Breakfast, devotions, lunches, dishwasher, laundry. 

Remembering that when you make yogurt,
 you need to make sure you have a starter before you begin the process. 

Happy Chickens. 

Spin those plates. 

Keep it all going. 

Don't let it fall. 

I breathe. 

This is not how I want life to be. 

Even when I wake late. 

Even when the coffee is the necessity. 

I want my life seasoned with grace. 

Even when there's deadlines. 

I breathe. 

These are the moments that can be the holiest all day. 

The most chaotic moments of the day might also be the holiest. 

When your heart races and things are chaotic.

When you're behind and feel out of control. 

That's when He can do His work. 

It comes in the surrender. 

Knowing that even though all is spinning wildly;

He is not. 

He, is still in control.

This is digging deep. 

So I sip the coffee. 

I breathe deeply. 

I speak gratitude. 

The pace slows. 

Order (what little I have) returns.

I am choosing the way that is filled with the Holy Spirit. 

The way that keeps my feet light. 

That allows me to be used by God at any moment. 

I am holding loosely to the things of this world. 

I am ready. 
With open hands. 

Just Breathe
Jonny Diaz

The Boys

The farm boy; my only boy. 

I used to say boys. 

A moment; forever changed. 

My brothers, always called "the boys."

Mom's words echo;
 "have you talked to the boys?" 

Grown men with families. 
The boys.

Naturally I began to call my sons; 

the boys. 

I loved calling them that. 

I loved having 2 boys. 

They fought. 
Tousling. 
Angry. 
Dominance. 
Fists clenched. 
War.
Strength. 

Awful. 

Until. 

Maturity. 
Alliance. 

Friendship.

Early on it was as cohorts against public enemy number one;

Mom. 

An alliance while playing video games. 

Competition. 

This beautiful interaction was just beginning. 

When it ended. 

Now, there is one. 

He wrestles with this new role. 

Oldest boy. 

Only boy. 

He walks the stairs each night past the closed door. 

Past the silence. 

Each time molding and shaping who he is becoming. 

You see this farm boy; made a choice. 

He entered the waters of baptism. 

He aligned himself with the living God. 

And the enemy of our souls reared. 

The farm boy went head to head with challenge after challenge. 

His brothers death left him vulnerable. 

He rebelled and fought. 

Until he made a choice. 

To surrender to that baptism. 

To stand strong in the face of opposition. 

This mama and a slew of others bowed low. 
Digging deep. 
We worked. 
On our knees;
 Interceding for this amazing young man. 

And he shed that skin of discontentment. 

He threw off the chains that brought him down. 

Step by step he is yielding; submitting to the Father's will. 

It is still a painful battle. 

He misses his brother. 

He, nor any of us, understand. 

And the missing is deep. 

That farm boy is taking his energy and creativity

 and turning it into something beautiful. 

He's taking something worn down and discouraged and
 breathing into it new life. 


Isaiah 43:19
See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

We have a Savior who longs to do the very same for each and everyone of us. 

He sees the plan that is obscured from our view. 

He is working. 

He is doing a new thing. 

We're taking off the scales to see. 

We're reaching for hope, when all seems lost. 

I continue to not like this road. 

Yet, along the way I don't want to miss the beauty that awaits. 

My purpose is beyond what I can see. 

My worn down, discouraged self is stepping out and seeking the new thing. 

I want to be refreshed and given new eyes to see. 

Not in my own strength but always in his. 

Won't you take this journey with me? 

Psalm 91:4
He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; 
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

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!

When I Couldn't See

My dearest Elijah,

It is Sunday Morning. 

February 28th. 

It's been 31 months since you breathed your last. 

I sit here by the fire aching from within. 

Life continuing its ebb and flow all the while something so not right. 

It is the pain a parent walks with each moment after a child has been taken. 

No matter how strong my walk with God. 

No matter how much faith I have; the pain remains. 

You are gone. 

My life here altered forever. 

I think of the sunrise that Sunday morning. 

The incredible grace bestowed on our family as we began 

the journey of living with out you. 

A heart in the sky. 

I didn't have eyes to see. 

Another parted the way so I could see. 

This has happened often. 

The view of another; giving great in sight. 

You see grief can blind you. 

The piercing ache and emptiness bubbling beneath the surface. 

Holidays and birthdays reminders of deep loss. 

So, Elijah, it was pictures this week that helped me to see. 

A post from Jonathan. 

Reminding me others remember too.

A chance meeting with the college girl in a friends room. 

A friend of a friend is there. 

You know how that goes. 

He's from Vermont. 

He played Lacrosse. 

He knows the friends. 

And this picture just happens to be in his photos. 

2 photo's I have never seen. 

2 gifts in one week. 

While we wait for another test to see if Daddy's cancer is back.

These photo's surfaced. 

Both of you. 
Both I have never seen before. 

Parting the way, when I couldn't see. 

While the pictures take my breath away and bring me to my knees. 

They also remind me of the great, great joy you brought me. 

I had 17 wonderful years with you. 

Tumultuous at times. 

But full of wonder and joy. 

Your sister is getting ready to have her baby. 

This grieves me that those girls will never know their Uncle. 

But God knew all this. 

He has known since before you were born the number of days you would spend here on this earth. 

While  I don't like his plan. 

We will keep on keeping on. 

We will tell those little nieces of yours all about their Uncle Lijy. 

We will tell them about the God of the Universe that created you;

and them. 

I miss you so much. 

I long to hear your voice; see that crooked smile. 

 I miss arguing over everything with you. 

I hate the thought of the accident morning. 

I'm trying hard to let God work in me. 

To use these broken memories for His Glory. 

We will go to Worship this morning Elijah. 

I look to the balcony each Sunday. 

Not because I might see you there. 

But because it's a habit. 

Always looking to see if you were there; and paying attention. 

I needed this chat. 

There's so much going on. 

Sometimes I just need to rest.

To remember. 

Pictures to part the way when I couldn't see. 

I am trusting with all my heart in God's perfect plan. 

The Journey Home

Tonight. 

They return. 

They've been gone a week. 

Half my family. 

Serving. 

Working. 

Sweating. 

Giving. 

Loving. 

In the Name of Jesus. 

To a people in need. 

I have missed them.

Their journey home, begun.

While they will long to be home; 

a piece of them will always remain in Haiti. 

I have not shared their experience. 

I am praying for understanding and wisdom. 

To hear their words. 

To see into their souls. 

I am looking forward to the homecoming. 

Hearing the stories and seeing the glow from time spent giving. 

Jesus came to serve. 

Matthew 20:28

just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, 

but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."

He came to give .

All. 

For us. 

 A people in desperate need. 

The walk to the cross; all he had. 

For us. 

Willingly. 

We may serve overseas. 

Or here in the states. 

Where ever. 

We are called. 

To give. 

To love. 

In the name of Jesus. 

Even when it's hard. 

Give. 

Love. 

Obedience. 

Each day is a gift. 

Unwrapped as the day unfolds. 

May this day be the day for you. 

The day to embrace. 

To turn. 

To live for more. 

To lay down the hurt. 

Seek the forgiveness so freely given. 

May we all give today. 

As Christ taught us. 

Matthew 25:40

"The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'

May there be joy in the journey. 

Unexpected. 

Fullness.

Gratitude. 

Phillipians 1:3

I thank my God every time I remember you.

In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy