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."

Remembering

We stand at the grave. 

This college friend and I. 

Last together when life didn't hold so many painful pieces.

Back when life was still fresh and young. 

This day we stand at the grave of my oldest son. 

"Tell me about Elijah, " she says. 

My eyes fill with tears. 

It's been months since I have let myself think of him. 

Months since I have paused to remember. 

Because in the remembering the searing ache lies. 

The sharp pain of who he was and will never be. 

The kind and caring, yet hot tempered red head. 

So handsome. 

So bent on being right. 

Blue, blue eyes. 

Perfect teeth from suffering through surgeries and braces. 

Smooth, pink skin. 

My son. 

Not all remembering brings pain. 

God was intent on us remembering. 

He wanted us to remember to not fear; 

Isaiah 41:10

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Today is a day to remember a covenant made. 

A day our family celebrated and treasured. 

It is our oldest daughters 3rd Anniversary. 

The day she and her husband promised to love and cherish 

until death do they part. 

A commitment they don't take lightly. 

Each working to strive to help and serve the other. 

My farmer and I watch with tenderness as the husband of this stubborn farm girl chooses patience and understanding. 

We watch as this team encourages our precious grand daughter. 

We step into grace as we expect another grandchild in March. 

This day we remember; 

the covenant made. 

The joy of the day. 

Because in remembering we grow. 

In remembering we remain steadfast. 

Deuteronomy 32:7

Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you.

Happy 3rd Anniversary to our Oldest Farm girl 

and the only man my farmer would hand her off to. 

May you continue to love and respect each other. 

May you seek romance and choose joy. 

May you continually bring our farmette home to visit. 

Alan Jackson 

Remember When

When You Need to Search For Joy On Father's Day

How can you miss someone when they are physically still here? 

How can your heart ache so deeply and long for what once was?

The memory thief pulls and tugs until there is but a shell. 

A shell of the person that once was. 

The strength; staunch independence now shadowed. 

How cruel it seems to watch. 

How twisted the path. 

We are powerless to stop the movement. 

Helpless to change. 

Yet we are not without hope. 

Hope that one day all this torment will be gone. 

The day when sweet reunions are fulfilled. 

When pain ceases to exist. 

Oh, how I long for that day. 

This day  set apart to honor our Father's has left me unsettled. 

My Father in Law in heaven the past 15 years. 

My father here on earth; yet his mind fragile. 

My farmer such a good father. 

One son who will never be a father. 

And I linger there on those thoughts. . . .too long. 

Isaiah 43:18-19

Do not call to mind the former things, Or ponder things of the past.

"Behold, I will do something new, Now it will spring forth; 

Will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, 

Rivers in the desert."

Sometimes the past can hold us too tightly. 

It's clutches relentless in it's pursuit to undermine; tell lies. 

Beat us down until we have no self worth. 

Until doubt becomes our truth. 

That is not truth at all. 

It is the moving forward that we are called to, that speaks of truth. 

Obedience. 

Seeing the new thing that God is doing. 

Having eyes to see. 

To be aware that God is moving. 

Sometimes the movement is so subtle that if we're not careful, we'll miss it. 

A reminder that God is at work. 

 Letting go of the the past. 

Stepping toward the future is risky. 

Yet it is full of all the hope that God provides. 

Our way is not riddled with perfection and all good things. 

The way is rough and painful. 

Underneath all though, there is a joy. 

A joy that can not be stolen. 

Not when cancer creeps in and snuffs out the light. 

Not when the memory thief takes up residence. 

Not when death rears it's ugly head and your son is called to glory. 

Not when cancer creeps into that dear, dear farmer

 and the joy thief clutches tightly. 

 No. 

The joy will never be stolen. 

The deep, beautiful gift of joy. 

When the world falls apart around us. 

Joy will stand. 

So this Father's Day. 

I will choose to remember the wonderful Father in law I had. 

How much he sacrificed for his family. 

How steadfast he lived his life. 

I will remember the crazy father I have. 

His love for me, fierce. 

His words of wisdom still solid truth, or good for a chuckle. 

I will remember the wonderful farmer and his gentle ways. 

His love for his children and all children that cross our path. 

Most of all, I will give praise to my heavenly Father for never letting me go. 

For walking this rough and beautiful path right beside us. 

For letting his son; his one and only son, be the vessel by which we are all forgiven. 

Once. . . for all. 

Fanning The Flame

I couldn't keep the flame going. 

I wanted to light a candle.

I found a match. 

I lit it from the gas stove. 

The flame would not stay lit. 

I had to cradle it. 

Protect the flame until the candle was lit. 

We are the light of the world. 

A city on a hill.

Matthew 5:14
You are the light of the world--
like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden

We need to protect our flame. 

It is so easily extinguished.
Keep the flame burning. 

The winds of the times blow and the flame flickers until it is gone. 

The flame is a fragile thing unless it is fanned and fueled.
The care intentional.
Purposeful.
I can be a crab. 
It's true.
Ask any member of my family.
Some days I have a right.
The kids have not cleaned up their clothes or belongings.
They are disrespectful and selfish.
And I speak to them about this.
But other times. 
I am just crabby.
I say things I shouldn't.
I speak before I have thought through. . . all of what I was going to say. 
(My farmer shakes his head)
I lash out. 
Sometimes I even pout. At my age.
I should know better.
But sometimes it feels good.
I know better. 
I need to fan the flame. I need to make sure that it won't go out.
Our flames are fanned by the very things we do to keep our focus in the right place.

I withdrew this week. 
I stepped away from the chaos and craziness.
It wasn't easy.
I struggle with guilt.
I wrestle with all that needs to be done.

Luke 5:15
And he withdrew himself into the wilderness, and prayed.

I didn't withdraw alone. 

A former colleague and I plan a get away every year.
Usually during a vacation.
This year has been difficult.
Her mom took her final breath and walks in Glory now.
So we wait until now.
We talk.
We cry.
We remember.
I can feel the flame grow stronger. 
I worry about the house, my farmer, the kids.
I text often.
My farmer sends me a cute text with a quote from the movie, Mom's Night Out.
I laugh, but I know he wants me to be happy.
I feel the flame stronger. 
My friend and I laugh.
We talk of faith.
We remember the years gone by.

And still the flame grows stronger. 
When we reach out and fan that flame, we keep it strong.
In the quiet I read the Ancient Word.
I drink a hot cup of coffee.
I continue to fan the flame.
I breathe deep.
I praise God for each of these blessings.
For the gift of the flame and grace He gives to keep it going.

What are you doing today to fan that flame? 

Sometimes, What We're Given, Is Not What We Want. Can You Relate?

He cracks a joke. His eyes twinkle. 

He doesn't smile.
 He doesn't have to; his eyes always have.

He participates in a discussion. 

He prays. 

My farmer is feeling better. 
A weight beginning to lift. 

Even for a moment.
His walk with the Joy Thief long.
He has continued to climb those walls; doing the hard work. 

Nothing will ever be the same. 

But having a piece of him back is exhilarating.
I miss his handlebar mustache. A different thief at work.
Radiation and Chemo stealing unknown fragments along the way. 

Sometimes we don't know what we're missing until it's gone. 

These have been days of learning to appreciate all I have.

I Thessalonians 5:16-18
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; 
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

What I have, may not be what I want.
The lessons of life learned through the trials.
Each day a journey to the heart of God.
Seeking how to live when the searing pain a constant companion.
Even the darkest days God showed his immeasurable strength.
He seeks communion with his people.
He longs for our company.
We're still on a road that is challenging.
It is not a path I have chosen.
It is the one placed before me.
My heart yields to the lessons God wishes to impart.
It is His will I seek.
Learning to walk in His ways is my greatest desire.
He is giving us peace and strength for the way, one moment at a time.

We all have a road to walk.
The stories you all share have been such an encouragement along the way.

What has your journey been?
Do you long to tell your story.
We tell our story, which ultimately tells His.
We have had so many praying for us.
Won't you let me pray for you?

Waiting; The Farming Way

It's raining. 

Again. 

We really could use a little precipitation.
The grass will green up quickly. 

We are running short on feed. 

With the new calculations it looks like we have 10 days of feed left. 

10 days left of the harvest that held our son.

His hand in the work. 

The final pieces of summers bounty, ending. 

Another piece to the puzzle. 

Another added expense. 

I watch my farmer husband as he shares the news. 

We need feed. 

He doesn't react. 

Years of volatility in this business have hardened him to reactions. 

Faith in an unwavering God leaves him grounded. 

It is me who does the wild screaming dance and shouting and stewing.
 There's a twinkle in the farmer's eye.
He's feeling a bit better. 

For now. We will wait.
Decisions made in haste can cause much waste.
In waiting, he will call and see what feed is available.
In waiting he will check over every pasture thoroughly.
While waiting he will analyze each aspect of the feeding production.
He will fix a mower, order parts, change the oil and clean out the office, while waiting.
Because waiting is the farming way. 

The strong, resilient resolve. 

They weather any storm.
Persevere through the toughest conditions. 

Find beauty in the ashes. 

A way where there seems to be none.
Hope. 

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.

An inner peace permeates his being.
It is one of the things that drew me to him.
He was strong and silent.
It intrigues me even after 20 years.
How can a man be so quiet?

His energy is spent in prayer, not ranting.
Because of course I have done enough of that (the ranting part).
He listens instead of reacts.
Because my chatter, I am sure leaves him dumbfounded.
He loves rather than condemns.
A life marching to the beat of the Savior's drum.
So we will wait.
We will pray.
It is the farming way.

The Question That Begs An Answer

The doctor asks my farmer, "What do you like to do?"

And I watch my farmer.

He doesn't know.
Right now, he hates farming.
There are aspects he used to enjoy. Maybe even love. A deep satisfaction.

Now, it produces stress. Reminders of a beloved red headed farm boy;
 heading to the Marines.

He used to play music. . . we both did.
Kids and life got in the way. 

I start to think. 

What do I like to do? 

 I used to love to teach. It is in my blood.
But with 6 children, a farm, a home, working out became impossible.
My career shifted to domestic engineer. 
Now, everything seems so hard. 

Everywhere I look there is something to be done. 

A memory that pierces my heart. 

Who am I?
Who are we as a couple?
These questions beg an answer.
Who are we after 21 years of marriage, the death of a son, cancer and  depression?
Who are we?
We are God's children.
A promise.
We have to ask, "Who is God?" In order to understand those questions.
Who is God? 
The hope of all nations.
Our provider, healer, restorer, redeemer, the joy giver.
He is that and so much more.
It will take all of this life to even begin to fathom his mercy.
Who are we?
We are husband and wife.
Covenanted by marriage.
A life long commitment, strengthened by the trials that try to separate us.
Who are we?
We are parents, friends and lovers.
Our identity tied together through bonds that can't be broken.
We are united in Christ.
Bought with a price, given on the cross.
We are raised to new life; with purpose; for a purpose.
A purpose that is not yet fulfilled.
We are ambassadors on this earth with a message of hope to share.
A legacy to leave, pointing to the Creator and redeemer of our souls.
Worship in the midst of grief.
Hope known when our hearts are overwhelmed.

Do you know loss? Is your heart heavy?
Do you long to know who you are?
We're going to rephrase the question the doctor asked.
What is it God wants us to do? 
We are going to seek that answer.
Where is he leading us through this time?

Ephesians5:1-2
Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. 
 And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, 
a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

Unexpected Quiet; Seeking Lessons in Lent

I hear the quiet. It is not a familiar sound. 

I fight to fill the void. 

This old farmhouse echoes with laughter and "busyness" most of the time. 

But for the moment it is quiet. 

The laundry, dishes, bills and getting ready for church vy for first place.

The farmer rests. 

His evening sleep often interrupted by the demon of worry and anxiousness 

spinning tales while his body seeks rest. 

Even when you know where you are going; worry can still get you.

John 14:2-3
In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, 
I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.

He bears the weight of the burden of the farm.

What once was honoring and fulfilling; now a crushing weight.

I try to rest in the quiet. 

An attribute taken on during Lent. 

An attempt to seek the quiet. 

A practice difficult for me. 

There is value in doing. 

Surrounded by noise and people, activities and doing, there is not much time to think. 

Yet when the quiet comes it can be a threat. 

I lean into the quiet. 

I practice waiting. 

Waiting to hear from the Lord. 

Just being still. 

Resting in the enormity of who He is. 

Of all that He is able to do and more. 

The quiet loses it's ominious feeling and I feel the peace descend. 

I am broken and hurting. 

But I am loved and held. 

What about you? 

Do you know that peace and assurance?

John 14:27
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. 
Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Little Giggles And Big Tears. . . Filled The Gaping Hole

It's the beginning of March. 

And it's cold. 

The bone chilling, deep freeze of February hasn't lost it's grip. 

The farmer is so cold. 

He can't seem to get warm. 

These are just some of the changes that cancer will make. 

Sometimes the whole picture is just so overwhelming I can't even look. 

The strength to move forward waning 

Today I was reminded of the beauty of relationship and the power of woman being together. 

The beauty of grace and corporate prayer. 

I was reminded of sweet children and little laughs and big tears. 

I gathered up all those pieces today and filled the huge hole in my heart.

 I stuffed each laugh and tear right into the hole.  

I took big breaths when I thought of Elijah as a little boy.

I squeezed my eyes tight when I remembered those days of  5 children and car seats and diaper bags. 

I swallowed hard at the hopes that are dashed. 

I rested in the comfort of being with women; of seeking God's direction. 

Tonight when I climbed those stairs to say good night to the kids. 

I paused in his doorway. 

I breathe in deep the scent that has dissipated.
Longing for something tangible that can't be. 

I leaned against the door frame and resisted the desire to shout and beg why. 

Instead, I said goodnight, I miss you so very much. 

And I held my heart. And I took those big breaths and thought of the giggles and tears. 

I pushed them further into the hurt. 

I slowly walked down those stairs. 

Cedric was still out. 

The uneasy feeling began to creep in. 

Isaiah 26:3-4

You keep him in perfect peace
    whose mind is stayed on you,
    because he trusts in you.
Trust in the Lord forever,
    for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.

It's the feeling I had every time Elijah left the house. 

I need to grasp the truth. 

I open the Ancient Word to my reading. 

God was with those Israelites. Every step they took. 

I need to lean into that grace. I need to hold on tight to the promises. 

I can not do one step of this weary journey on my own. 

God will never turn his back on me. 

So, I will reach out. 

I will rest. 

I will hope. 

He will meet me there. 

This mountain rises highter. The way seems so unclear
But I know you go with me so I will never fear
I will trust in you
Whatever will come our way. . . 
We won't be shaken. . . 
Together we will rise and sing. 

Building 429  We Won't Be Shaken

Don't We All Just Want To Be Loved?

My Youth Pastor spoke at our wedding. He performed the ceremony  in our field, over looking the beautiful, fall landscape and Mount Mansfield. He spoke on Love. (Big surprise! Right?) He quoted lyrics from secular songs. " I want to know what Love is", "Love; it never hurt so good". An entire society trying to figure out how to do love.

Well, I am adding my 2 cents today to the litany of love experts.

Love. It's not what you think. The romance and the chocolate. The flowers and the sex. It all has little to do with love. I know. Love has more to do with the sacrificing than the receiving. I saw real love in action. As cancer ravaged my mother's body and the memory thief knocked on my dad's door.  I saw. In sickness. . .He wouldn't leave her side. A man who never shed a tear in my presence but once. A man prone to forget the Anniversary but not the Football game. A man now desperately trying to find out why such a wonderful woman has to suffer. I saw him meet every need she had. I saw a tenderness I had never seen. I saw love.

Love. It's not what you think. It has little to do with money. (though really someday I wouldn't mind not having to scrimp every penny. But then I wouldn't know what I know) It has nothing to do with looks or the things thrown in our faces by media. I know. Because I have seen love. When my middle was swollen  beyond human imagination. In joy. . .When I am angry and bothered and want a vacation from myself. I have seen love. And when the unimaginable happens and the precious is torn from your life and you stand at your sons grave. In Sorrow. . .You see love. You feel love and you know love. And when the doctor returns your call and the diagnosis is cancer and you stare deep into each others eyes and everything you need to know is right there. That's love. And when the effects of chemo and radiation leave you barely able to stay awake or eat and you still go to the Diner because you know that's what she wants and you never complain. That's love.

I Corinthians 13:4

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love. It's not what you think. I've received it. I've done nothing to earn it. He gave; the overwhelming grace sent by the Father. A love that transcends all. A life ransomed for mine. The assurance of eternal life. His life for mine. Love. What a thing. A love that will never let me go. . .ever.

Love has been demonstrated daily since our son was called home. Meals, financial support, hugs, flowers, letters, gifts, cards, acts of service, phone calls; the list goes on. The desire to help us stand when we can't find our way. The fruit of pure love.

Twila Paris~How beautiful, when humble hearts give, 

the fruit of pure love, so that others may live. How beautiful. . .Is the Body of Christ.

So if you're looking for love. I am sure "you're looking in all the wrong places". You'll find it when you lay to rest your son. You'll find it when toxic cocktails weave their way through your spouses veins. You'll find it when you give all you have to give and then some more. You'll find it when you take the "I need" out of your vocabulary. You'll find it best when the divine meets the sovereign and you hand over all that you are, all that you need, to the only One that will love you completely.

 I will take my hearts in the snow. Hearts on my clothesline and when the weather is too bad, strings of hearts in my living room. I will take the knowing looks. The graveyard visits and dates to the infusion center. I will remove the " I need, or I deserve" and seek to serve with all I have.

John 15:13

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.

The Things We Could Learn From A Farmer

It's the last day of radiation. My farmer needs some hydration after the treatment.
He hasn't needed hydration at all except during treatment.
How did they know he would need it now?
I am so grateful. You can tell he needs it. He just perseveres. He never complains. He has been amazing through these treatments.
There are so many lessons learned from the generations of farmers. 

If we all lived a little more like them, I think this world would be a much better place. 

I could be biased. I married one. 

Here are some lessons I have learned in the last 24 years. 

(Disclaimer. . .Ok - I am learning these things. 

These are the examples I have seen. I didn't say I have any of these qualities.)

Get up and do your job. Even if you're sick. Or have cancer. You'll get through it. 

Even when your son doesn't show up for milking because he's with the King of Kings. 

Don't complain. Words never fixed anything. 

If you open the gate; close it. 

Let nature do it's work, it'll let you know if it needs help. 

Make hay while the sun shines. You won't get another chance. 

When it's broken. Find out why. 

Reuse, repair, and reuse again. This is the only earth we have; take care of it. 

The word "can't" is not in the dictionary. 

Everything has a use at one time or another. 

Shopping means to the equipment yard, or the attic. 

Listen to people. They may have something to say. . . or not.

Thank God in the good times. Thank God for the tough times. 

Breathe in deep. You'll know if it's going to rain, if the halage is spoiled or a cow is sick.

Never be too busy to: pull someone out of a ditch-repeatedly; never take money for such actions,  fix someone's thing that needs fixing , plow a neighbors driveway-even when you have chores to finish and have been up since 3, rescue an animal, or to show someone around the farm.

Picnics and outings are spontaneous events. 

The hay mow has multiple uses.

Warm buttered toast and chocolate milk make everything ok. 

Nestle Quik Chocolate dissolves better in raw milk. (really)

Scones in farming language is fried bread dough. 

Church is mandatory; no way around it, most everything else will wait.
Your life is prayer.
You feast on God's word before physical nourishment.

You don't need a vacation because you have everything right here. 

At the end of the day you're so tired you'll never need a sleep aid. 

You sleep whenever you sit down; but don't miss a thing. 

Your needs come last. Always. 

The sunrise is always beautiful even when we can't see it. 

Jehovah Shalom. God is our peace. 

Do You Long For The Struggle To End?

When I think I can't take it anymore. 

I breathe deep. 

There are 4 more days. We can do this. We can make it. 

My house is out of control. Insurances are waiting for forms, tax preparations loom. 

 I couldn't sleep last night. 

The first time in 6 months. I got up to pray and read those Ancient Words. 

I was reminded how the Israelite's were taken from their land. They were banished;

sent into an exile they had been warned about. 

Yet they were told to prosper where they were placed. 

Even though they weren't in their homeland; they were taken into captivity; 

they still had a purpose. Jeremiah 29:4-7

Even though great heartache and grief line our path; we are to prosper where we are. 

There is still purpose and there is meaning. There is hope. 

We are in the final days of radiation and chemo. 

We need to continue to be aware of where we can serve; 

of how we can share the grace that has been given to us. 

We are tired and worn. 

Yet through it all there is a reminder prosper where you are. Plant the fields. 

We have purpose and meaning. No matter how hard the road. 

I watch my farmer step each morning to the barn. 

I have watched for 20 years. 

A man born of routine and deep conviction. 

He has walked that well worn path everyday; 

even through chemo and radiation. 

There is purpose. There is meaning. 

Won't you walk that well worn path? 

Won't you find the peace and joy from a life surrendered?

Even in the middle of life's most darkest moments, when we are worn and tired;

 plant and prosper. 

There is a future.

There is redemption for those who trust; and call upon the name of Jesus. 

I have cried out these lyrics to this song since Elijah was taken home. 

I want to see redemption win. And I LONG for this struggle to end. 

But until then. We will plant and we will serve. 

I'm tired, I'm worn

my heart is heavy

from the work it takes

to keep on breathing

....Let me see redemption win

Let me know the struggle ends