Redemption Requires a Reason

     Imagine you're swimming leisurely in a lake, enjoying the sun, and a gentle breeze, all is right with the world, and you are relaxing to the quiet sounds of water lapping the shore and birds in the trees nearby, when suddenly someone is swimming toward you, grabs you by the hair, yanks you struggling and sputtering to shore, flops you onto the bank and declares: "There--you're safe now! You've been rescued." How would you feel? Astonished? Offended? Infuriated? Maybe even violent, but certainly not rescued. You would have no appreciation for your rescuer either, and in reality, no one would come along to do that because it was not necessary.

     But what if the conditions were different?

     This time imagine that night has fallen quickly and caught you off guard, you've used up your strength swimming out to the center of the lake, you are alone and now you're much further from shore than you realized. In the darkness, a thunderstorm starts to whip up around you, rain begins coming down in sheets while the wind blows savagely, sending wave after wave against your face as you struggle just to stay on the surface. You have completely lost your direction and you realize that you cannot survive this. Now a replay: suddenly someone is swimming toward you, grabs you by the hair, yanks you struggling and sputtering to shore, flops you onto the bank and declares: "There--you're safe now! You've been rescued." Now how would you feel? Astonished? Relieved? Grateful? Maybe even rescued? In this scenario you will honor and appreciate the one who pulled you from the water.

     Redemption is a church word for being rescued or saved. It is used both in the sense of salvation from eternal judgement and rescue from peril. It is a word rarely used in our comfortable culture. But in truth, we are usually much further from the safety of shore than we imagine either through sin or circumstances. It often takes the violent storms of life, exhaustion from going too far on our own, overwhelming conditions we can't control, or sometimes the cold fear of death before we recognize our helplessness and our need to be saved.

     I have been thinking about this lately from a parent's perspective, though not because of anything in our immediate family. I think that redemption in the Christian home is painful. Good parents love their children and pray that they will realize their need for Christ and live accordingly, growing in respect to salvation by relying on Him and recognizing their need. And yet parents will often do everything in their power to keep their child 'safe' from the very circumstances God would use to make them aware of their desperate state. It is counter productive. Should those circumstances wreak havoc with the child's self-righteous-esteem or rock their otherwise ambivalent outlook, then parents tend to mourn and wring their hands for what seems lost and what may come. But what seems lost is just an outward appearance and God judges the heart anyway. If we are worried about what others think then that is a sin in itself that we need to address before even considering where our children are at. As to 'what may come', it could not be worse if salvation is not certain.

     I am convinced, as one who was there in my own younger life, that sometimes the one who is furthest from shore is nearest to being rescued because they have the greatest chance of seeing their need. And I am always amazed at how far the Lord is willing to let a person swim from shore so that they will realize how truly needy they are.

     Have you been shown mercy? Then you must have deserved something terrible. Have you felt the Lord's comfort and nearness? Then you must, at some point, have been very broken. Have you tasted the goodness of God? How would you have known it's sweetness without a bitter badness to compare it to? Redemption requires a reason. A person saved from nothing has not been saved, and a person saved from very little treasures their salvation very little.

     Redemption will never be valued where it's need has not been desperately felt. Unfortunately a parent can't escape feeling it together with their child, especially as they grow up. It is ours to bear. I imagine that even as our Heavenly Father allows us to swim further and further away from shore, He longs to scoop us up and save us the pain. Fortunately He knows exactly what is needed and is willing to wait until we, or our children, know what is needed, too.

     

     

The Door Story

Many, O LORD my God, are the wonders which You have done,

And Your thoughts toward us;

There is none to compare with You.

If I would declare and speak of them, They would be too numerous to count.

Psalm 40:5

Hunky and I went and picked up a trailer load of doors for the market today...and I got a surprise. And since I'm on a roll for telling some of the happenings that I have found to be divine, and frankly, astonishing confirmations to proceed with this project in relative confidence, it is now time for the door story:

I took a favorite friend and we went to scope out the competition 3 weeks ago. In truth, having never been, I wanted to go to the nearest Whole Foods Market and Trader Joes--about 40 miles from home, but only after an obligatory stop at my favorite architectural salvage and community development center in Cincinnati.

We walked through the doors of Building Value on Spring Grove and there against the wall was the most gorgeous line-up of doors I have ever seen and very unlike the usual suspects that end up there. They were maple. They were unconventional. They were unique. They were practically new! They were 3 panel hinged single doors, and full-lite glass and maple shoji-style double slide together doors, all 36x80 with hardware that I really liked and the shojis even had the tracks with them. 

They were my doors. 

And they were priced at a reasonable $150 for the singles and $250 for the double sets. (Time out to quit hyperventilating. That really IS a good price, especially with handles and hinges, but STILL...) I took pictures. I put them on my Wise Acres Market Facebook page. All I needed was confirmation that we were nearing an agreement on the building and I would be back to take my babies home.

Cut to Monday. Having heard that we are nearing an agreement, I decide I should go get my doors before somebody else does. But I know they'll be waiting for me, because they are mine. I call just to be sure, and I am told that they can't sell them to me because they have been put onto an online auction that ends...tomorrow. (Preview time is over, there will be no picking and choosing!) I get the info, scope out the site, plan my plan, and make sure I am at a more reliable internet connection than my own as the end of the auction nears.

To say that I prefer the real, physical, raise-my-hand or nod-my-head auction where I can size up the competition, to this cold, anonymous, electronic version I endured on Tuesday is an understatement. But even so the Lord led during the bidding, and I let all the single shojis go, deciding to focus on getting half of the double sets (10 doors), all of the regular doors (8) and the two oddballs. (Including a full lite glass door with sign that says "Quiet Zone, please walk and talk quietly upon entering." For my office, of course.) I got them. 20 of them. At an average price of $80 per door. Happy, happy dance.

So today we arrive to get them, which by the way was a LOT OF WORK, and we discover the reason I liked the hardware: it is EMTEK. 

BE STILL MY BEATING HEART... 

Who knew? The God of the universe has excellent taste in door hardware.

Realizing that not everyone is the kind of architecture geek that I am, let me translate: Emtek is to hardware as Porsche is to car, grass-fed Porterhouse steak is to meat, and...um...Coach is to handbags. (I had to get help with that one.)

We ended up with one more door for $30 as it was cracked and unsold. I tried to talk her down to $25, but she said the hardware was worth $30, and I agreed because I was pretty sure it was worth $60. But actually she was wrong, and so was I. When I got home tonight I looked up the handsets online and they sell at a discounter's for $115.50 each plus shipping. 

:)

If you see me in a neck brace soon, don't panic. It will just be the result of me constantly shaking my head back and forth in wonder as I keep seeing the Lord do all this really, really cool stuff. 

Footnote: So I looked online for 3 panel maple doors, and though I could not find these exactly (I think they're from Japan!) I did come up with a reasonable comparison on sale for $370 ea (not including shipping) and with no hardware. The handsets cost at least $115, and I didn't bother to price out the hinges, b/c I already know those can't be had for under $20 a set. So basically I paid an average of $80 for a door that would have cost over $500.

Spending $1800 for doors worth more than $8000--PRICELESS. But it's still a panic...

Ka-Ching: Spiritual Deposits and Withdrawals

I am supposed to be making phone calls and sending emails about buildings and contracts and doors and architect stuff, but I am anxious and feel inclined first to jot down a couple of thoughts related to the title of this post. Perhaps thinking through them in advance and putting words to them will help when the inevitable time comes for one of those big withdrawals. I have the uncomfortable sense that it is imminent.

A little back story on this project:
In the fall of 2009 I sensed the Lord moving me to start planning a market and cafe. Part bulk and natural foods, part Amish deli, part local goods, produce and art, part laid back Pacific Northwest coffee house with really good, and good for you, stuff to eat, all dropped down into rural SE Indiana. So I spent the next two months intensely researching and accumulating information and I scoured the area for the building. I looked at what was on the market, but there was only one--ever--that was THE ONE. It was the H Auction Building and it was in use.

Nevertheless I called the number on the truck parked outside and inquired. I asked if I was speaking to the owner, and the answer sounded like a yes. I asked if the building might be available for sale or lease and was told no, no interest in that at all. But later that day I had the realization that I had not spoken to the owner, but the tenant. Looking into the county records, I found and called Mr. B. and he was very interested in both possibilities and arranged to show us the building.  Ka-Ching.




It was nightmarish, however. Floor to ceiling with stuff, junk and garbage. It was bad. The tenant was living in part of the office, and well, that's enough description. From then on when we would drive by, G would hold up a hand so I couldn't look at the building and suggest other not-THE-ONE locations. Some weeks later I sensed the Lord say

"Stop for now." So I did, more than slightly confused, but willing. Any time I thought about moving forward I would get the same image of a big metal "wheel boot" clamped on the tire of a car. The message was clear that I would be going nowhere, so I was content to wait for more instruction.


The next year I became ill and stayed that way for 9 months. But when spring came this year, so did the sense that we should look again into the market. Mostly it came from G who quit holding his hand up when we drove by the building and started sending me links to local organic distributors and other items of interest. Then came the day he said, "I think you should plan to open in the fall." So we asked our church family to pray with us for wisdom on something big and we waited. After a month or so we felt compelled again to move forward and I emailed Mr. B. to check on the status of the building--Did he still own it? If so was he still interested in selling, etc? Two days later he responded, surprised, but very glad to hear from us, and informed us in a short reply that the tenant had died unexpectedly 10 days earlier, the man's family would be cleaning out the building, and it would be ready soon, so when did we hope to open and when would we like to meet?  Ka-Ching,  Ka-Ching. It was confirmation enough, and it was also the first of many noteworthy deposits into a spiritual bank account of faith and provision for this task, from which I draw a daily stipend.

I don't think I will never cease to be blessed and stunned by the circumstances surrounding yesterday's post (The Foreknowledge of God in a Box), but even before the day was out my natural bent toward anticipating the worst was beginning to wring its hands about what must be coming down the road. It is the wrong response, I know, and soon I hope to alleviate some of the anxiety with some time of putting those hands up to the Rock that is higher than I.

In the meantime, though, there is a spiritual law at work here. Maybe a better statement would be that in my experience, whether I like it or not, I have found the following to be true:

God does not make big spiritual faith deposits where big spiritual faith withdrawals will not eventually be needed. He needs no fanfare to meet our needs, but we, weak as we are, do seem to need them from time to time to better endure the next set of trials, especially large ones. Perhaps it is that today is dark and rainy or perhaps it is prophetic, or maybe both, but when I see the line-up of amazing deposits in the last couple of months, the weak, fearful, faithless part of my soul starts to tremble...

........................................INTERRUPTION........................................

...Enter the ever-faithful, ever-trustworthy Lover and Keeper of my soul. The One Who will NEVER leave me nor forsake me, the One who knows my every need and sometimes provides immediately.
I am amazed yet again.
After writing those words above "my soul starts to tremble...." the phone rang. A dear friend called whom I have prayed with regularly this month over a big and daunting task in her life and she told me how the Lord is answering in amazing and almost impossible ways. Ka-Ching. Even today He sends encouragement to me when I need it! And this time she prayed for me--another encouragement. We agreed together that leaving everything up to the Lord and carrying as little possible ourselves is the best and most astonishing way to live in light of life's overwhelming and uncontrollable circumstances. Ka-ching. Ka-Ching. Ka-Ching. Ka-ching. Ka-Ching....

The Foreknowledge of God in a Box

Today I was reminded of the unfathomable plans of God and how He delights to bring us into them. Today I stood speechless outside my corncrib and quite literally remained glued to one place for minutes with my mouth hanging wide open in awe. Today I stood, stunned, and worshiped a God who includes me, nothing, nobody me, in His fascinating plans for this world. 

Then I got my camera...

We moved to Aurora, Indiana a little over 6 years ago and sometime during that first year I picked up an old, over-sized mailbox for $3 at a garage sale. I didn't need it, didn't use it, don't collect memorabilia, and even when I tried to find a function for it could not. Then I thought to sell it, but didn't do that either, and so it sat in the corn crib untended ever since. I have a vague recollection of looking for the address once or twice as I passed by the location painted on the box, and another vague recollection of never figuring out precisely where it came from, but that was long ago and of little importance at the time.

 I am not blogging much these days because I am consumed. I am pursuing opening a natural foods market and cafe in our town, and to say I have been astonished by God's divine 'push', counsel, guidance and provision thus far as I have tried to obey this commission does not begin to tell the story. 

And it will not be a short story either, when I am finally able to tell it, because God, His plans and His dealings with His children are complex and worth hearing in fine detail. 

But here is a tiny anecdote along the lines of an ever-growing list of similar "tiny" anecdotes all covered in very large, very loving, very amazing fingerprints:

We are buying a big, old, 1950's warehouse, in need of a lot of work, on Highway 50. It is the main thoroughfare through Aurora, though not part of "Old Aurora" proper. The building used to be part of concrete monument and vault plant that included three buildings, but has since been divided with two buildings on one side and the warehouse on the other. We are purchasing the warehouse, which was most recently an auction building of sorts. The funny thing about highway 50 in our area is that as you travel through each of the small towns it passes through here--Greendale, Lawrenceburg, and Aurora-- Highway 50 is sometimes called E Eades Parkway, W Eades Parkway or Green Boulevard. (A fact you might never know unless you were mailing a letter to one of the businesses there or happened to see it on a map.)

So last month I asked the owner of the warehouse what the specific address is there, as no numbers grace any of the buildings. He told me that originally the plant all had the same address, but after the lot was divided some time ago, the warehouse, which was the local Coca-Cola plant for a time, was designated 718 Green Blvd. 

:)

I may not own building yet, but I've owned the mailbox for over 5 years.

Always Getting What I Want

Midnight. The perfect time to try to express some of what has been happening in my life and heart lately. In truth, there does not seem to be another time in the day that allows me the luxury/necessity of sitting a bit in silence, letting the activities, conversations, decisions and thoughts of the day settle enough to contemplate the bigger picture. I have missed it. 

When I was 18 and I heard the truth about my sin, my separation from God, and my need for the Savior Jesus--who alone can bridge that gap, I acted on those truths by giving myself and life to Him. But in reality I had numerous misconceptions. Not so much in my need or the process, but more specifically in the outcome. I began attending a church and admired, sometimes from afar and sometimes close up, the ladies I presumed to be most godly. Somehow I always identified the women who were least like me--diminutive, quiet, feminine--to think of when I would pray "Oh Lord, please make me a godly woman." Surely God's plan for every Christian woman involved long skirts, floral blouses, teaching children's Sunday School and having a mysterious, demure inner quality. It makes me smile now, because I believe it made God smile then, yet He honored my request, even while knowing that getting what I wanted wouldn't look the way I imagined. In His kindness He has been answering ever since, though I have yet to shrink, can hardly be called 'quiet' and will never be described as 'feminine'.

What does it mean to be 'godly'? Obviously it means to be 'like God'. And our example in the flesh of what it means to be like God came in the form of Jesus. To be 'godly' is to be like Christ and Christ was, above all things, obedient to the Father. It was so much the center of his focus that He called it His very food. And when the painful reality of what it would cost Him drew near and He desired to avoid the torment that was planned for Him, yet He prayed: "Not my will, but Yours, be done." He fully entrusted himself to the Father's plan for him as GOOD and RIGHT and BEST. That is godliness, wanting what God wants, and that is the kind of trust I want not just to have, but to act on.

But godliness has not been the only thing I have ever wanted. And since moving to Indiana, to a farm with a barn on 61+ acres, I have also wanted farm animals. It only seemed right. And we have tried, and fought, and struggled and failed ever since moving here, but it took getting what I really thought I wanted and having it all go wrong for me to be able to hear the Lord. Ten days ago I posted the note below on Facebook, announcing that we are done with farm animals.**

I really thought that the farm animals were a good idea, such a good idea that I am fairly certain I never once prayed about it. If I had I am not certain that God would have changed a single thing, but now I'll never know. As it is, I got what I wanted--in perfect detail--so there are no illusions of what might have been. I am relieved to have understood His will and begun acting on it, and I'm pretty sure that it took getting what I wanted to see that I was wrong. If I had never tried and failed I might even have imagined that I was giving up some good thing for His sake, when in fact He just has other plans for me!

Jim Elliot, a man who gave his live in service to Christ, wrote: God always gives His best to those who leave the choice with Him. And Proverbs 3:5,6 says: Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths.

Through much experience I have learned that my plans and the Lord's often look very different, but by that same experience I know that His plans are always best! It's such a good place to be! And what a comfort that Romans 8:28 reminds us that He works all things together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose!

A friend recently posted: "You have plans. God has plans. Your plans don't matter." Lol--exactly! I believe this with my whole heart. Wanting God's plans over my own--that is what godliness looks like. How blessed I am that I am always getting what I want--opportunities to be more like Jesus.

**

Like the biblical Jacob, I have wrestled with God over something for a long time. Guess who won? ;)

Unlike Jacob, I didn't realize I was wrestling, but the pain in my hip tells the truth. God has prevailed and now that I know what He wants, I am obeying.

Our family is done with farm animals. Whether this is for a season or for a lifetime I do not know, and do not need to know, because that is the Lord's business. For years I have tried and struggled and fought and failed to fill our barnyard and farm--it only makes sense, right? We have a 3-story barn, 61 acres, and two hay fields for Heaven's sake! But God's ways are higher and better, and now that He has made it clear I want to obey quickly.

THEREFORE--

We have the following available to the right people for very reasonable terms:

3 goats with milk stand and all supplies--

--a beautiful spotted Nubian doe in milk (who should be allowed to dry up, then be bred for next spring)

--a juvenile Boer cross wether, good for meat or companionship

--a juvenile Kiko cross doe who can be bred next year

A dozen chickens (all a year old and laying) plus a rooster and supplies 

 (Probably shouldn't be mixed with existing flocks, but if a person wanted to "try" having chickens this would be a great way to give it a shot.)

--Wellsummer rooster

--maybe a bantam cross rooster, too?

--a mix of varieties, all a year old and laying: buff-colored bantam crosses, a Wyandotte, an Auracauna, RI Red, Danish Leghorns, Wellsummers, and others.

A sweet, beautiful Great Pyrenees dog (who is twice the size of our Lab, but eats only half as much)

--She requires farm animals, and a lot of room to roam that is fenced. She does not guard chickens but rather longs to play with them (and it's not a fair match! :) She would do well with cattle, goats, llamas, and probably horses.

It is good to obey the Lord, even when it hurts--maybe especially when it does. I believe the pain will be short-lived. Feel free to pass this on to any you think might be interested. Tagging some who I think may know others of interest.

Salvation and Spotted Goats

To blog or not to blog, that is the question. This evening the answer is--to blog. It has been a very full couple of weeks and only time will tell if or where this exercise of blogging falls in the new framework of life. Here is a small something that brought a smile to my heart recently.

Since we began 'goat shopping' late last winter, I have seen pictures of beautiful spotted dairy goats. Always my response was "OH, I SO want one!" They are interesting and unique and lovely. Usually Nubians or Nubian crosses, I think they are positively beautiful.
However, they are also much more expensive than run-of-the-mill goats, because apparently I am not the only one who admires them. So, armed with the awareness that in the scheme of life spots on goats are not important, I settled the matter--I would never own a spotted goat and that was okay. I would aim instead for owning a couple of good milk goats.

That is no longer true. K is home from missionary training a week ago, and when Dad and C went to get her stuff they brought home two goats. One was the doe K had learned to milk (and expertly I might add), the other a young whether for meat. She had meant to send me pictures, but in the course of studies and life had forgotten. We had talked about the goats, but never what they looked like. As the time for her to leave drew near, we offered the owners a pitifully low figure for the two with our apologies and the understanding that we would in no way be offended if they declined; it was simply all we could afford to spend.

Not only was the offer agreed to, it was the same low price they had thought of themselves. In addition to the goats and some hay, they sent a milking stand, a stainless bucket and lid, natural wormer and some other supplies, and this after trimming their hooves and worming them. We were greatly blessed. And then they arrived.

When I looked into the trailer I caught my breath, and then I almost cried. I hadn't told Hunky or anyone else how much I wanted a spotted goat. The Lord was the only One who knew. So as I gazed upon our new doe I knew I was looking at the carefully chosen gift from a kind and tender-hearted Heavenly Father who loves me. The doe is SO spotted. She is interesting and unique and lovely. And, also of importance, she gives an easy and generous quart of delicious milk each day.

I don't think enough on the love of God, although I love Him, and I know that He loves me. I suppose maybe I don't want to expect or demand these kinds of blessings. Or maybe I just don't want to be disappointed. We live in a fallen world with fallen people and life reflects that, so I try to keep all that in the right perspective, and then in so doing I am surprised by His small kindnesses to me. But the truth is that God is Love. It's not a greeting card sentiment or some vague spiritual mantra. It is the very word of God found in the scriptures. It is who He is. It is the Truth. And where it matters most is in the salvation of my soul, but if it takes a spotted goat to remind me, I will be very happy with that as well.

By this the love of God was manifested in us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world so that we might live through Him. 1 John 4:9

How to Train a Dog

She knows

that I know

that it's

hot outside.

She knows

that I know

how sweet

she is.

And

she knows

if she can

just

catch

my

eye

resistance will be

futile.

Dog training:

getting

 the people

to do

exactly

what you want

while thinking

it was

THEIR idea.

God Supplies My Needs

That is a basic tenet that I rely heavily upon. The Lord asks things of me, frequently things I am not excited about doing because I am tired, lazy, selfish, busy, hard-hearted or just plain rebellious, but I usually kick myself into action knowing that I am His to command and remembering that He will supply my needs.

Of late I have been blessed by the amazing generosity of the Lord in response to some simple obedience on my part. After some small willingness, there has immediately been a result that I didn't anticipate. I have been made humble and joyful by:

• The satisfaction of a powerful time of prayer for a family in need of divine intervention.
• The pleasure of playing a softball game after a 14 year hiatus. (So. Much. Fun.)
• An unexpected pizza party with most every young person I get to associate with.
• The relief of being not just secure in a treasured friendship, but loved perhaps more, after communicating hard but needed things.
• Being witness to the overflowing joy and passion of a couple newly walking with Christ.
• Recuperation in the Spring and Summer not only to do what needed to be done, but also to do what I REALLY enjoyed and finally seeing my home come together (after 6 years).
• Recent realization after 3 months of said enjoyment that I am ready to do something more meaningful than work around my house.
• The nudges of God to move forward and the potential to see a dream fulfilled while dragging as many people as possible through the unexpected provisions and joys with me.
• Admiring the sweetness of two who are now one, meeting a new friend, and eating Strawberry Pie at the reception of dear newlywed friends.

Like Strawberry Pie in lieu of bread, is how the Lord has supplied me lately. I have expected the basics, the austere satisfaction of knowing I did what He asked or what I should, but then in a breathtaking flow He lavished me with riches.

My God will supply all your needs...

... according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus. 

Philippians 4:19

Why do I think that the One who stripped Heaven of its greatest treasure, willing to abundantly suffer and die to secure my salvation, would be any less generous with His day to day provisions? Why does it surprise me to realize that He is equally blessed to bestow complex joys as well as simple satisfaction? His are all the riches in the heavenly places and He takes joy in sharing, especially with those who will recognize His kindnesses. I am so blessed to be His.

I know enough about life to realize that the sense of this season of abundance will not likely last. It is not to be arrogantly demanded, but humbly enjoyed; it is sweetest that way. In life, it is His table and He serves up what is best. Sometimes it is bread, but sometimes it is Strawberry Pie.

After

I don't know how this wall color looks on your monitor, but on mine it's close. Should be a dark teal.

I like it.

And here is that fabric C found for me. It will be valances in the breakfast room and stripes on the bathroom towels.

Before

I have never been satisfied with the caramel color I used to paint the downstairs bathroom. Around here though, once a room gets a coat of paint that means it's time to move on to the next To Do.
(And we have our share of To do's being the creative, broke, DIYers we are.)
So like a man behind a steering wheel, there was no turning around, going back or asking for directions, it was simply time to MOVE ON.
A few years have passed now, and last week my son C and I were in Hobby Lobby and he found this piece of fabric and called me to it. He said I had to have it. And he was right, it just made me...happy. (Maybe even a little giddy.)
I adore it.
And it was the perfect excuse to change out that nasty caramel color.
Oh, did I change it.
I'll put it up tomorrow.
:)

Forward Progress?

Sometimes I feel like the caterpillar on the rim of this bowl: I know I'm moving forward, and I feel like I'm making significant progress, but then when I look around I realize I'm really just going around and around and around.
As a wife and a mom, certain tasks bring on this feeling more than others.
Dishes.
Laundry.
Dusting.
Vacuuming.
Dishes.
Laundry.
(Did I mention dishes and laundry?)
I find myself reflecting--"Wasn't I just here yesterday? Boy this seems familiar. Wait! I just had this clean!"
Sometimes I wonder if I'm really getting anywhere at all.
And I can be sure that when those thoughts overwhelm me, like the caterpillar, I am being very, very short-sighted. Because unlike the caterpillar, my life consists of more than eating, avoiding predators, reproducing and dying. And it holds much more than my least enjoyed tasks.
Thank You, God!
In addition to my laps around the household track, I have a life that is full of created wonders, interesting and loving people, divine appointments, eternal value and through the intercession of Jesus, a permanent relationship to the One who created and sustains it all.
(And in addition, I do realize that if I didn't do those jobs listed above my personal habitat would be much less pleasant, too.)

Crunchy Dinner

Red Lettuce, roasted chicken, finely grated parmesan cheese.

Chef Hunky

Hunky is the best husband.
The guys were away at camp this week and the first day of our 'empty nest practice run' I said, "Honey, I would really like to not prepare very many meals this week if that's ok with you."
He responded by making the most amazing Baby Swiss, Bacon and Mushroom omelette in the history of the world.

That is not hyperbole. We topped it with Greek yogurt and enjoyed culinary bliss in a very quiet house.

Crunchy Lunch

A Praying Mantis is FAST. I saw this one munching on a spider. The spider still had 6 legs as I ran in the house and grabbed my camera. By the time I got back, the spider was down to 2!
When my oldest children were quite young, and I didn't know much about mantids, we sent two of the insects together in a jar for my daughter to show her young preschool friends. When I returned to collect her, there was only one mantid left, unless you count the head rolling around in the bottom of the jar...oops.

The Thinker

My Fault. God's Faithfulness.

I suppose because of my own faithlessness to God, I am often surprised by His ongoing faithfulness to me. Yes, I am aware of how very egocentric that is, and if I thought myself to be alone in that kind of thinking I might worry more, but the scriptures and life itself are full of reminders that I am in like-minded company everywhere I go. It is a condition of my fallen humanity. When I take the time to think on it I know full well to expect His ongoing presence, guidance and support; it's just that I just don't take the time to think on it enough.
Last night was fairly miserable in the sleep department, much because of the injury I sustained to my back recently. And I am more than a little annoyed by this ominous pain in my spine. Someone might wonder how I did it. Moving too many huge rocks? No. That last load of gravel. Uh-uh. Tossing 40lb bags of goat and chicken feed? Child's play.
No, I tried to jump a ditch from the uphill side to the downhill side--the same ditch that I have jumped that way many times, but this time the weeds obscured the edge, I ignored the still small voice that said "Wait." and I then missed, falling an extra two feet into the ditch. And while trying to keep my balance I threw out my arms and arched my back which was the position I was in when I landed hard, and bolt upright, in the bottom of said ditch like a steel rod being slammed into the ground by a pile-driver, with the exception of the sound, which went crunch instead of clang.
Annoyed, yes. And irritated. And mildly anxious. Grumpy, too, and less than happy with my own stupidity and its result.
Enter the sovereign hand and encouraging character of God, via the writings of Elisabeth Elliot Gren, and today's devotional in my email inbox.
The Lord is good and knows precisely what is needed and when. My back may be injured because of my own foolishness, but I still have the Lord's love and ready help. Since I did not stop this morning to read God's wisdom and writings He reminded me of it by the wisdom and writings of my older sister in the faith.
And I was surprised by the obvious application to my current problem, but then again, not really.

Elisabeth Elliot, from A Lamp For My Feet

My Own Fault

Someone who is suffering as a result of his own foolishness or failure may read these words. These griefs are hard indeed to bear, for we feel we might easily have avoided them. We have no one to blame but ourselves, and there isn't much consolation there. Sometimes we imagine that we must bear this kind of trouble alone, but that is a mistake. The Lamb of God, slain for us, has borne all of our griefs and carried all of our sorrows, no matter what their origin. All grief and sorrow is the result of sin somewhere along the line, but Christ received them willingly. It is nothing but pride that keeps me from asking Him to help me to bear the troubles which are my own fault.

Beans

We had a lot of mouths to feed Taco bar to,

so I cooked my own beans.

Loved how they looked in the pot and it reminded me a bit

of the picture I took while going

through the underwater tunnel

in Norfolk VA when we went to Williamsburg.

(Looks like there are only a couple of beans

 in that pot, though.)

While on the subject of things that are cooking. I am finding that when I am working hard around the house or yard each day, and really moving, that the brain does the slow cooker routine. I'm expecting a quieter week starting Sunday and I think some of those 'back burner thoughts' will have the opportunity to be served up.

By the way, the consensus is that canned refried beans will from now on be for emergencies only.

Lil' Miss Sunshine

I love Lil. She is awesome.

She's both a good watchdog and a good welcome committee. 

She follows me everywhere when I'm outside,
and sometimes gets to lay on the floor of the kitchen when I'm inside.

When I'm watering the garden, if she's too warm she'll bug me until I soak her with the hose.

Then she runs around like a wild idiot and rubs her back into the grass as she scoot/slides down the front lawn.

She even does a few tricks. Clearly fetch is not ever going to be one of them.

Saturday Special

It was a productive day out front.
Finished the rock steps and the chinking.
Added a new, small water feature, thanks to Hunky who dug and leveled the hole and provided moral support. :)

Hosted my good friend J and her family.
It's been probably 15 years since our last visit.
SO GOOD to reconnect.

ET your Watermelon

OK, so yeah, playing with our food is not an altogether alien pastime.

C--your creativity is showing. 

I think.

Rootbound

I've had a water lily for three years.

To my surprise it has survived each winter at the bottom of my little pond and come back bigger and better.

Until this year.

This year has been different. 

(Of course, what hasn't been different this year?)

The leaves are small. 

They don't last long and they yellow quickly. 

It has not bloomed once and barely shades the pond.

I couldn't figure it out.

But then today I had an idea: perhaps it was rootbound.

It was not just rootbound. 

It was packed more tightly than any plant I have ever seen.

The original lily was so healthy and grew so successfully that it was killing itself with productivity.

Sounds a little like someone I used to know.

The roots were packed so tightly that I could not remove the plants from the pot, and it had to be cut apart with great difficulty.

I had equal difficulty separating the entangled plants which had gone from one to 12 in only the three years. It was major, messy surgery.

I did finally get them apart and repotted most of them into a large underwater basket where they can grow without competition.

In the meantime the entire pond is one gigantic mud puddle since the huge resident frog or the too numerous goldfish wallowed in the newly exposed clay until it all dissolved into the water.

This was one of those jobs that like many in life needed, but didn't want, to be done.

It was difficult.

It took time.

It was messy.

It will require patience before I see any results.

But it was the right thing to do; the best thing to do.

And in the end, it will result in healthier, more productive lilies and a more beautiful pond, but at present there is no visible evidence whatsoever that my efforts have been good or fruitful. 

On the contrary it appears that I've made a mess of everything, and what I haven't messed up somebody else has.

Which is the nature sometimes of doing what needs to be done in life as well. 

We do it because it's right and we know we should, so we leave the results to God. 

 May all your lilies thrive and bless your pond with shade and beauty.

Losing His Cookies

Once upon a time there was a woman who lived in Indiana and sold cheese.

Her parents lived far away and it was almost her father's birthday.

The chef

So knowing that her father loved gingerbread cookies, she had his grandson make a big delicious batch and she packed them very securely into a box with some other gifts and a card.

At 4 o'clock she left for the post office knowing that the parcels would not leave on their journey from the town until about 4:40.

Arriving at the post office at 4:10, she brought her empty cheese boxes that needed to be sent back to the cheese house.

Putting those on the counter first, she asked the postal clerk, whom we shall call Milton, to ship them the cheapest way possible, which was parcel post.

After the postage was placed on the last cheese box, Milton discovered that the machine which dispensed the postage labels had just run out of labels.

By now there were a couple of customers behind her.

Uncharacteristically, Milton, who was pushing 80 if he was a day, swore as he left the room to get labels.

Meanwhile, the daughter and her young friend who had helped her at the house that day waited patiently.

When Milton returned he was very agitated.
He tried over and over again to thread the roll of labels properly through the machine, making trips back and forth between the machine at his window and the one at the other station, the closed window.

But it was clear that he was unsure of how it worked.
In addition, his hands shook so violently that he simply could not place the tape where he thought it needed to go. 

It was now 4:25 and there were four people in line.

More time passed and although Milton had seemingly threaded the labels through, the machine refused to work for him.
So the daughter suggested that she could buy stamps, which she had wanted to do anyway as they just released a beautiful new series, and then he could just tell her the postage and she would simply apply the necessary number of stamps.

(Plus she thought that covering her father's birthday box in botanical 'love' stamps would be fun.)

Milton was greatly relieved and said that would be helpful under the circumstances.

The big doors in the back of the post office opened and another postal worker started loading the carts with outgoing parcels into a truck.

Unfortunately, when Milton pulled out the book that held stamps he was unable to find the ones she wanted.

There were now six people in line behind the daughter and she said any stamps would do.

He handed her a 20-count book of brown liberty bell stamps and ran her credit card.

The big doors closed and the truck with the outgoing parcels drove away.

It was now 4:40.

When Milton tried to weigh the birthday box, the computer system would not allow him to proceed since the label machine had been opened and not reloaded properly nor closed.

He tried other options, to no avail.

Stress and frustration having set in ages before, Milton said he would have to move to the next window and see if he could weigh the birthday box on the machine there.

However, when he tried it would not allow him to log in because he apparently had not logged out of the other window's system.

After numerous trips between the stations he was finally able to get into the second system by slamming the cash drawer a few times.

Relief washed over him and he processed the order in only moments declaring, "That will be $15, parcel post. Your credit card, please?"

Sadly for the daughter, Milton had forgotten that she was going to use the stamps.

More sadly for the father, Milton had forgotten to ask how she wanted to send the box, which was first class, not parcel post.

So the daughter stammered a bit and handed him her card, asking if perhaps--since the stamps were not to be used after all-- she could return them.
And even more sadly for the daughter, the ugly brown bell stamps could not be returned because, as Milton explained, "I'm sorry, but all sales are final."

The last 'Cry Baby'

She thought it over and decided not to ask Milton to correct these mistakes as the line was now actually out the double doors, and they had been trying to mail one box for nearly 45 minutes.

In addition, while she and her young friend had divine resources to help them endure the ordeal with grace, it was fairly clear that Milton did not (although he did use the Lord's name strongly at least once, so she could be mistaken).

In short, she was most concerned that any further dealings might do him in, and if they did not, the other customers in line just might.

So the moral of this story is:

"Life's a ----- and then you…." 

WAIT! That’s not it.

It is:

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

Dear Dad, I’m really hoping you get your cookies by the weekend, but it could be the week after that. I think this is his best batch ever.
Love you!  :/ 

My Offering

S has been practicing for weeks to play piano during the offering at church today. But by yesterday it was clear that certain parts of his piece simply would not come together. Throughout the day as I ran errands, I thought long about the things we bring to and do for the Lord. How we want them to be glorious and perfect and worthy--all the things that we are not. I felt compelled to write this last night. I read it during the offering today.

My Offering

• 
  I want to honor Christ the King
  I want to bring
  an offering that’s worthy
  A treasure chest
  A song to sing
  A dance with lyre
  And tambourine
  
  Gifts of gold
  A prized possession
  Wealth untold
  A grand profession of faith
  or hope
  of praise
  or growth
  or joy
  
  A noble action
  thought
  or deed
  A lofty manifesto
  creed
  or declaration
  
  Or a disposition quiet like
  a gentle spotless lamb
  A humble life of sacrifice
  presented to the great I AM
  
  But no
  
  For all I have
  is nothing
  My works are filthy rags
  My words reek of hypocrisy
  My fickle fervor lags
  behind my good intentions
  
  My talents they run shallow
  My wellsprings mostly dry
  My heart too often heavy
  My lack of faith decries
  that I have nothing
  fit to give My King
  

• 
  But mindful of my dust-filled frame
  He bids me come to Him
  to kneel in His presence
  to offer every sin
  and heavy burden
  and heartfelt pain
  Give up my prized possessions
  worldly gain
  my hopes
  fears
  joys
  tears
  My all
  To this world die
  
  That I might live
  in Him
  And in this life
  that I might bring Him
  everything
  that He has given me
  
  For every good and perfect gift
  is from his hand above
  His Word declares
  His glory
  His sacrifice
  His love
  His worthy offering
  in place of mine
  
  For everything is from Him
  and everything returns
  that He has given
  
  And so my heart that yearns
  to bring an offering
  is satisfied
  in Him
  
  
  mjv
  

The Essentials Kit

a

Brian Regan fans everywhere can rest easy now.

Available at your local Wmart.

The Farmer and his Road Sign

I used to buy mulch from a farmer up on rt. 350. He had a sign, of sorts, that advertised his mulch.

Like a good farmer he had used up what was available. Said he mixed together a bunch of half empty paint buckets and got mauve so that was the color he painted the sign.

The farmer had had a stroke and couldn't use his left side so well anymore. By the Spring of 2009, the sign became hard to read, harder to bring in during the winter, and it started rotting on all the edges pretty badly.

I used to be a painter. When I was growing up I spent a lot of time with my grandparents and my grandpa was a painter. I loved my Grandpa. He was an old guy who had seen a lot, told it like it was and kept it real. He was crusty and grouchy and I was his soft spot right along with candy bars. I worked with him for many years before he passed away. We painted houses, businesses, churches, university buildings (Oregon State Univ, to be exact--Go Beavs!) and apartment buildings. That experience opened some doors, and later I also painted rooms in the Ambassador to Russia's mansion in downtown Moscow, USSR as preparations were made for President Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachevs' famous summit talks.

I am a gardener and  landscaper and I like Mr. W's mulch and his price. Furthermore, I like Mr. W. He's an old guy who has seen a lot,  tells it like it is and keeps it real. So I suggested a deal. I would paint him a new sign and he could give me free mulch. Neither one of us knew what the deal was worth and we still haven't pinned that down exactly. 

The farmer had a piece of plywood in the barn, and he sent it home with me. He didn't know what color or style he wanted the sign to be, so he let me make the decisions. It was a lot more work than I expected and twice as much fun. It was a lot more sign than he expected and I think he liked it. We both thought it was a decent deal. I got to do something nice for somebody in exchange for mulch, and he got a new sign and $5 more per scoop.

So it's been two years. During the winter I saw that the sign was laying face down in the snow. This Spring when I drove by I noticed it needed some touching up so I called and renewed our arrangement. When I went and got two scoops I discovered just how much the sign needs work and at first I was a little disappointed.

But then I remembered just how much I need mulch and decided that working on that sign every couple of years is probably just about right.