Waiting on God

"Waiting on God isn't about the suspension of meaning and purpose. It's part of the meaning and purpose that God has brought into my life.  Waiting on God isn't to be viewed as an obstruction in the way of the plan.  Waiting is an essential part of the plan. For the child of God, waiting isn't simply about what I'll receive at the end of my wait.  No, waiting is much more purposeful, efficient, and practical than that. Waiting is fundamentally about what I'll become as I wait.  God is using the wait to do in and through me exactly what He's promised. Through the wait He's changing me.  By means of the wait He's altering the fabric of my thoughts and desires.  Through the wait He's causing me to see and experience new things about Him and His kingdom.  And all of this sharpens me, enabling me to be a more useful tool in His redemptive hands" (emphasis mine).
  Paul Tripp

A friend shared this excerpt yesterday and besides "Thank you, Rachel" I also need to say "Thank you, Mr. Tripp". You have both saved me a lot of writing tonight and provided far better content than I was likely to bring. The timing is good too, not surprisingly, as we are waiting on the Lord to move us forward on something we believe He may be prompting us to undertake. It's a biggie and for my curious friends, does NOT require us to move again, except to our knees on a regular basis. :) 


But it is the kind of thing that affects real people and to act on it w/o being certain of the Lord's direction could be very bad indeed.


Waiting is a small form of suffering and therefore good practice for learning obedience. We creatures walk to the sound of a drumming heartbeat and often it says, "Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry." and "Now. Now. Now. Now." to which our all-wise Teacher says "Wait." It goes against a powerful current and the strain is often tangible. I am acquainted with many good young people and this juncture, as they see it, between now and the rest of their lives can be excruciating because of the waiting. But it is mighty purposeful, as Mr. Tripp says, "...in His redemptive hands." 


Waiting is also a skill that is good to master early because as life goes on the stakes get higher, and peace in the process is as useful to the believer who waits for some things as a life jacket is to the sailor washed overboard. Waiting for that final call from the employer, waiting for the diagnosis, waiting for the ER doctor to bring the news, waiting for a spouse, waiting to check the health of your newborn, waiting to serve the Lord in a particular way, these are circumstances that stretch the most practiced person of faith. It's good then for waiting to have a familiar feel.


Wait for the LORD; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the LORD. Psalm 27:14
We know that God is good. We wait to see how His goodness will be manifested and whether or not we will recognize the good in it now or if we will have to wait further.


And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28
And His purpose is to conform us to the image of His Son. Waiting is part of that conforming. It is the part which bows our will to the Father's, the part which says, "Not my will, but yours be done." It is contentment, the perfect unity of wills. When we can be at peace in the absence of what we want or in the presence of what we do not want, that is Contentment 101.  When we want only what God wants, that is Contentment 400.


Jim Elliot said, "God always gives His best to those who leave the choice with Him." So we wait to see His choice, His best, the as yet unrevealed will that pleases Him. And we trust Him in the process and learn to be at peace. And it finds favor with Him.


"The LORD favors those who fear Him, Those who wait for His lovingkindness." ^{Psalm 147:11} 

Time for a Facelift

The low humidity this AM made it a great morning for C and I to paint the rocking chairs.

We talked about sanding with the grain, tacking the dust off, and spray paint technique.

They turned out even better than I expected.

Sylvester agrees with me that this paint was purrfect for the job.  ;)

It went on quite thin which gives the chairs a stained instead of painted look-- VERY NICE.

C did a great job!

This will be season 6 for these two clearance rockers and now they look practically new. YAY!

It's nice to have some things these days that can be repaired and restored instead of replaced.

Moonlighting

By day I sell Amish Cheese, 

but by night I make jewelry and host workshops 

where others can enjoy my inventory of beads, charms, tools and supplies.

I have a workshop this weekend, so if you're in the area, come on by.

The link here gives more info:

Solid Rock Creations Jewelry Workshop, Aurora IN, Friday 6-10 & Saturday 10-4

(Corner of Washington and Manchester)

The Perfect Job

From C's Comprehensive Career Criteria:
"The perfect job will have at least three of the following five criteria, acronym THOPP:
1-The repeated use of sharp implements.
2-Heights from which a fall will almost certainly result in injury.
3-Opportunity for some manner of destruction.
4-Parental approval.
5-Pay."




This is going to be the beginning of a wonderful arrangement.

:)

Workhorse

My Favorite* Food

Sauteed Cabbage, Bacon, Onions and spices.

Yum!
* For the sake of total disclosure 
and out of fear that someone should publicly call me a liar:
CHOCOLATE IS NOT ACTUALLY FOOD.
In my case it is more like medicine...

Father's Day: Better Banana Splits and Worse Poetry

The Father's Day meal ended well, after a rocky start: 

I cut off the tip of my thumb--not exactly the kind of 'special' G was hoping for. 

He's SO picky. ;)

Better Banana Splits:

Split a banana

Lay it out on a plate

Fuzz it with whipped cream

Splat with crushed berries

Drizzle and Glop with semi-sweet ganache

Be glad you don't have to share

Happy Father's Day Honey!

Worse Poetry:

It's Father's Day my handsome man, and here's my poem for you.
(Since twice I searched the real cards and they were mostly poo.)
I'm glad you are my husband, and all my children's father.
I like the way you tolerate us when we are a bother.
I'm thankful that you love the Lord and serve him every day,
I'm blessed to know you'll follow Him instead of better pay.
You set a good example for our boys by working hard,
And taking time for playing games and acting like a card.
Your daughter has a man who always thinks she is a keeper,
(It gives me peace of mind that she won't end up with a creeper.)
You loved me back when I was young and more now that I'm not.
You've hardly aged a day yourself, (and I still think you're hot.)
It's true you interrupt me and sometimes snore quite badly,
But you put up with my two faults and so I love you madly!
;)
xoxo

Yellow Flags

I came around the corner in Kroger today and was startled by this huge display in front of me.

I found it rather disturbing to think of how many women long to look like these women do.

I'm sure the problem is all mine.

Proverbs 31:30

Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.

Eyes to See, Fingers to Speak, and a Heart for Giving Thanks

In the last year I have been given the gift of sight. It seems to be in direct proportion to the amount my life has slowed down, and was in exchange, apparently, for my old gift of speech.

The articulation that I used to enjoy in conversation is now best expressed through my fingers instead of my mouth. The thoughts that I struggle to put together when I talk now flow freely when I type. It's interesting, to me anyway, that when the verbal part shuts down the tactile opens the gates pretty wide.

And so this blog which originally was to post a picture a day as a way to do some small creative thing when all other creativity was gone, has become a means to enjoy both the new things and ways I'm seeing and the best way I can communicate them. In the process I realized some of what the Lord has been doing with this time. He has given me eyes to see: I can see and and am thankful for things now that I never used to see at all. He has cultivated joy which has been put into context by my sadness and given me an awareness of how blessed I am every day. In essence I have been given the gift of sight and am astonished. My life is overflowing with things for which I can honestly give thanks; things that were always there, but unrecognized.

Today's picture is a good example. I am amazed at the beauty of these hostas I 'photographed'. (A fancy way of saying I am now able to use the basic features of my little purple point-and-shoot.) I feel like this is the first time in my life that I have ever really seen them in all their glory. But I have had hostas for years! And strangely I have always thought of their blooms as lacking interest, just an aside to their generous leaves. How could I have been so wrong? How could I have missed that incredible beauty all these years? By simply moving too fast to see the signature of the Artist, I guess. Plants are not 'just plants'. They are complex creations, artistic expressions, designed by a benevolent, limitless Creator, who is full of goodness, has unfathomable insights, and who appreciates the value of contrast.

This week I have had three friends lose loved ones to the sting of death. It is my prayer for them all that they will have 'eyes to see' and can give thanks to the One who 'gives and takes away' for the joys that were theirs and the privilege of knowing those who passed, even as they grieve their parting. The pain of parting with a father, a mother or a brother is their reminder of the blessings they once enjoyed and that, since the beginning of time, we are eternal creatures and this separation is just not how it is supposed to be nor how, in the end, it will remain. I am praying for God's provision of grace and strength and further blessing during this time and for 'eyes to see' His provision. It is an act of sacred worship to choose to be thankful for the blessings when The Curse seems to have won a major victory.

I was recently ready to announce that I was over the Epstein-Barr virus, but it seems I have stuck a toe back in either because I have been doing too much, sleeping too little (old habits die hard) or just because I'm in a down cycle. It is mild, and even if it wasn't, it is okay because I recognize that there are valuable aspects to the low times and I actually appreciate the juxtaposition* now. Slow is good. Slow is a relief and a respite and a way to see more clearly. (OK, usually it is those things. Sometimes it's a just a real pain in the back end. See, I am very far from having arrived, just in case there was any doubt.) Nevertheless, I think that I have learned the benefits enough now to be able to either find them or wait for them even in a notable downturn. (But please don't quote me on that if I prove myself wrong in the future.)

 The LORD opens the eyes of the blind;
The LORD raises up those who are bowed down...
Praise the LORD!

Psalm 146:8

*Generally, juxtaposition, or contrasting is an act or instance of placing two things close together or side by side, in order to show unlikeness or differences, to note the opposite qualities of the two, etc.  http://www.wordiq.com/definition/Juxtaposition

Precious Metals and Other Commodities

I enjoyed three very rare but precious things today:

--A helper to do many small, but needed jobs around my house.

--New flatware for the second time in my 25 years of marriage.

--A clean and organized silverware drawer.

Very nice, indeed.

Healing of the Land

When we moved to this place almost 6 years ago there was a problem. The land was toxic. We didn't realize it at first, or know the cause of the problem. We just assumed that Indiana had picture-perfect lawns but did not have earthworms or frogs or many birds.
It was beyond me that with a barn as huge as the old hunk we've got placed beside lush fields of hay bordered by a creek and woods, we didn't have a single swallow. I could tell by the muddy shadows left behind from years past that there had been some once, but not in recent history.
Nothing  that ends in "-cide" has been sprayed here since we arrived. And we have watched with joy as year after year our land has recovered from what exactly we don't know, but assume it was related to the abundance of chemicals used to make a big, green, weedless yard. The progress went like this:
-After the first year, some worms and some toads.
-The second year more worms, more toads, some snakes and birds at the feeders.
-The third year an abundance of worms (TONS now), new kinds of birds, rabbits and squirrels.
-Year four--tree frogs! (Amphibians are the 'first responders' when an environment is toxic and their return was a big milestone.)
-And since we have watched as each season brings a new surprise; this year the Barn Swallows took up residence, appropriately, in the barn.
Not a lot of deep and meaningful material here, but it makes me smile and I thought it was cool. One that the barn swallows are back and the babies are growing crazy-fast. And two that there is a verse of scripture that refers to them. I knew, of course, that the sparrow is noted, but did not know until I searched www.Biblegateway.com that this wonderful mosquito-eater is mentioned, also.

Psalm 84

 ¹ How lovely are Your dwelling places,
O LORD of hosts!
² My soul longed and even yearned for the courts of the LORD;
My heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God.
³ The bird also has found a house,
And the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young,
Even Your altars, O LORD of hosts,
My King and my God.
⁴ How blessed are those who dwell in Your house!
They are ever praising You.
                         Selah.

I Rock!

Because there is just something wonderful about their colors and textures, 

and the sense of stability when they are under my feet.

It is one of my favorite things to do. This is the latest project, and I am thankful to be well enough to do it!

I will post pictures again when I'm done.
I just need two more cool days!

Yes, I had help with the huge ones, and I sometimes get help from my guys with the big ones--as little as possible, though.

Indiana rocks are not as pretty as Oregon rocks, but they often are full of fossils which is very cool, and more readily lend themselves to projects like this one.

I rock and I love it!

When Pig Flies

Wild Weather, Soaked Chicks, Non Compliant Electronics

Tried but couldn't post this due to weather last night.

Wild, wild weather this evening, and some time after recording the excitement I remembered that the roof of the new chick pen was not secured. (I'm trying to figure out how to add the recording but I keep getting error messages, which is to be expected since they are the most common messages I get from any electronic device.) So, I had to wait a few minutes before I could go out, and sure enough, the roof was about 15 feet away from the pen, the chicks were piled in a corner, soaked through, scared to death, and getting chilled.

Nothing quite like trying to set up an electric heat lamp while standing in the rain, or getting down on all fours and crawling into a poopy chick pen to put down a mat of dry hay, or banging, scraping out, and replacing wet chick feed, and wiring on a roof, all in between severe thunderstorms. 

(Full disclosure: it was actually kinda fun if I didn't think about it too much. :)

Lil and I got to hang out with Bella and the goats under the barn for awhile when it was just too crazy to make progress, or when I felt too much like a human lightning rod. Although in truth, when the hail started and the winds picked up and I wondered why they couldn't have put a tornado siren a little closer to my house so I could actually hear it, I was thinking that under the barn was not where I really wanted to be. I would have preferred someplace safe, like the Middle East, or even better--the house. Even a box turtle was trying to get away from the weather at that point.

As you can see, by the time I finished the chicks were recovering and content, and the roof wired in place, and obviously I was not struck by lightning although I got a good picture of a strike that I also can't seem to clip from the video. (Electronic equipment senses that I am a Luddite at heart and expresses its disapproval in the form of obstinance more often than not. It's not the operator. Really. Ask my kids. We go to check out at a store and the register goes offline. They shoot me the look which says: "Duh Mom, you're way too close to the register!" I step back and everything returns to normal. Weird but true. End of rabbit trail.)

At 3AM when it got crazy again I spent the next 45 minutes watching their heat lamp, like the beacon of a little lighthouse, and wondering at what point it would flip and fly away. Thankfully, it stuck to the ground and kept on shining. Today I shall anchor it. In between thunderstorms, of course.

A Parable of Cats

The Son of The Farmer paid a high price to purchase three cats which he brought to his father's farm. Shortly thereafter he was killed. And these three cats were all in the same family, lived on the same farm, were fed the same food, at the same time, in the same place, by the same person--every day of the week.

Now one might assume that since these cats were so costly and had so much in common between them that they would be the best of friends and happy comrades, but sadly this was not the case. Cats tend to be a rather self-respecting species. Each one feels him or herself to be slightly better than present company except on the rarest of occasions. Their demeanor is less often pure charity or selfless affection and more often a kind of condescending tolerance.

So instead of enjoying their many meals together in the comfort of easy fellowship, more often than not their conversations went rather like this:

 "Dear Ones", said Black And White Cat, "Excuse me, but while you do nobly in your hunting endeavors, you are quite mistaken in your form of eating. Allow me to show you the proper way, so you may be as acceptable to The Farmer as I am. You must not bite, like a dog, but rather use the hair-covered tongue bestowed on you, and lap up each piece of food delicately to demonstrate the superiority of our species.
This is, after all, the way approved of by The Farmer."

 "Well," declared Black Cat with a hint of righteous indignation, "you may hunch down and lap all you like, but The Farmer cares little about whether you lap or bite. Apart from your offerings of vermin, He cares only that your posture demonstrate respect for His esteemed position. Therefore, you must stand, as much as possible, like this, tail held high, and eat quickly to show your appreciation and humility. This is why I am most pleasing to The Farmer."

 "Really. You are both ridiculous,"sneered Gray And White Cat through a mouthful of kibble. "The Farmer cares not how we eat or how we stand, only that we catch his mice and make a great show of loving him. That is why, and you would do well to follow my example, I am careful to purr very loudly in his presence, kneading with my claws and circling this way and that, to demonstrate the magnitude of my affection for Him. It is, after all, the only sure way to garner His most generous kindnesses, and why he obviously favors me."

Meanwhile The Farmer loved each one and remembered his Son whenever he looked upon them, which is why they were still a part of The Farm. And He admired them for their beauty and their individual qualities. It made him glad that they were satisfied with the food He sacrificed to give them, and also that they were growing strong and healthy. He graciously overlooked their faults and accepted their occasional gifts of chewed shrew or ravaged robin, knowing that these were the only offerings one could truly expect from a feline who could little comprehend the mind of The Farmer. And it was good enough for Him. And it was fortunate for them.

And the three cats carried on day after day, in the same way, in the same family, on the same farm, being fed the same food, at the same time, in the same place, by the same person--every day of the week.

Better Than TV

After dinner tonight we took scraps to the chickens.

Checked on the chicks in the new pen.

Fed the goats some wild grapevines.

Brushed more on the shedding Pyrenees.

And hung out with the critters.

Way better than tv.

Japanese Maples Need Water and Other Deep Thoughts

I have a little sadness in the garden.

My Japanese maples are wearing the effects of my illness of last year. 

While under the influence of the Epstein Barr virus, I ventured outside only a couple of times last summer and fall, and since I couldn't think properly I would just look around and drag myself back in. 

Doing anything in the yard was impossible. And I couldn't even put the thought together that in a drought, plants and small trees should be watered. I could have asked someone to do it for me, but observations and solutions were not part of my functional reality. 

So my Red Laceleaf and My Ukigomo Japanese Maples died back hard. 

The Red is sending out vigorous shoots, but the Uki is not. I hope (really, really, really hope) that it makes it. It was a beautiful tree. 

Two years ago I would have been very upset by this. Today I am not.

Even if it doesn't survive I can see that it is a small loss put into perspective by the very thing that caused it. In truth, the EBV has put many things into perspective for me, so I can add this to the list. It has also tempered me, which lessens my desire to get worked up over things. This is not a bad thing, either.

So I suppose one could conclude that I traded in some maple branches for some spiritual maturity. That's a pretty good deal.

There's No Place Like Home

   We are into houses.
   We like old ones and interesting ones, the new ones not-so-much, but we especially like finding the gems-in-the-rough, aka the fixer-uppers. (And that is also what we usually end up buying when we buy a house. In part because our move to Indiana in our 20th year of marriage was our 17th move, we've owned exactly 11 houses. Rather misleading since 7 of those were rentals in FL, but it does sound more impressive that way.)
   It could probably be called an illness how we are always tearing our house apart and using salvaged and unusual materials to do the things we like to it over ridiculously long periods of time while living in conditions that most people, my daughter among them, would struggle to tolerate. (Which is a direct result of choosing to live a full life while in the process instead of only working on the house.) OK, so it's a little nutsy, but we are committed to it.
   So as a result of all this, we are always noticing houses when we are out driving and from time to time my children spot one that compels them to come down pretty hard on the owner. Statements like "I would NEVER live there!" and questions like "Why would someone live like that?" call for a Teaching Moment where I staunchly defend the owners of said home by reminding my progeny to count their blessings, because some people are just thankful to have a roof over their head.
   This is not one of those times.

It's a Jungle Out There (Should have posted Friday...hmm.)

I still can't believe how lush it is this year after all the rain.

On the downside: the weeds are overwhelming.

On the upside: it doesn't look bad and pulling them out has never been easier.

This is the upper part of my stream/fish pond.

I got the bamboo from a friendly neighbor.

I kinda like it.

Quite a Catch

The fish isn't bad either.

Lichen It

It's a fungus...It's an alga...No, it's-

Lichen

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Lichens ( /ˈlaɪkən/,^[1] sometimes /ˈlɪtʃən/)^[2] are composite organisms 

consisting of a symbiotic association of a fungus (the mycobiont) with a photosynthetic partner 

(the photobiont or phycobiont), usually either a green alga (commonly Trebouxia) or 

cyanobacterium (commonly Nostoc).^[3] 

The morphology, physiology and biochemistry of lichens are very different 

from those of the isolated fungus and alga in culture. 

Lichens occur in some of the most extreme environments on Earth—

arctic tundra, hot deserts, rocky coasts, and toxic slag heaps...."

...not to mention the state of Indiana.

God is God and We are Not: Grace, Grief and Good Things

My dear friend said goodbye to her baby today, long before getting to say hello. 

It is a heartbreak. 

Not the first, not likely the last, not even the 'worst kind' as if these things can be plotted on some spectrum of sorrow, but a heartbreak still, deeply felt, a terrible ache for this loved and anticipated little person and the joys that might have been. 

But my friend is wise and she entrusts herself to God, not only when life goes according to plan, but more importantly when it stands in stark and painful contrast to her deepest longings. I heard God's grace in her voice today, I heard Him sustaining her, and I gave thanks.

How blessed is the one who has made the LORD his trust,

She is a blessed woman. In her wisdom she has pursued a life of willing obedience to Christ. She has seen the many wonders God has done for her and the innumerable gifts she has been given. She has acknowledged His provision in the big and little things, and pondered them in her heart. She has believed His Word, and asks together with Job: "Shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity?” An account that is full of gratitude can be drawn from deeply during adversity. It is with much practice that she trusts the Lord in this thing she would never have chosen.

And has not turned to the proud,

Death is a part of this life, and as with the rest of it, even here there are temptations. One is to reduce these events down to dry medical conclusions that provide a worldly sense and logic to ease the mind. But the workings of the womb are a mystery, and only One understands all that happens there. Though 'cutting edge' technology probes more deeply and provides clearer images each passing year, though the establishment boasts about their knowledge and the details they believe they understand, there are tenfold as many things they do not know. It is smoke and mirrors. A diversion. Ask them. They do not know how or why. "These things just happen." they will say.

 nor to those who lapse into falsehood.

Psalm 40:4

And there is another temptation as well, and that is to believe what is false about God. Some will say that He did not want this to happen, and in the sense that all the sin that affects us breaks His heart it is true, but in the sense that He was powerless to intervene it is a lie. He could have. Sometimes He does. This time He did not. Is it random? No, as with everything He does, it is with purpose. Is it sadistic? No, it is out of His love and goodness. Do we understand it? Rarely. So He just does not care? Another lie laid bare by the death of Christ for us. My friend understands that God is God and we are not, a conflict for those who do not believe and a place to rest for those who do.

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

And lastly some will say that He simply is not and this is the proof. He does not trouble to answer them. Why should He? Instead He astounds us with beauty in our world that takes our breath away and in an outpouring of compassion gives us yet another breath to draw. 

We are because He is.

My friend realizes that eventually every breath will be silenced for a time. And God knows that someday we will all understand completely, and until then he can let the enemy of our souls have temporal victories, knowing they are empty because the real battle is already won. 

We are not forsaken.

You, O LORD, will not withhold Your compassion from me; 

Your lovingkindness and Your truth will continually preserve me.

Psalm 40:11