Perfect

 

 

Grateful for a lovely day. A gift from a perfect God. Grateful Ammie, mamma, friend, and wife; thankful for a quiet evening, competed chores, and lovely dinner with my gambling man.

Farming and fuel, coal to be exact, equals risky business. Faith, endless days, and and a never look back attitude drive a man, mine, to fall out of bed at 4:30 AM and go till the work is done. Some days he's the bug and some days he's the windshield. Every day is hard but every day is worth the heartache, the exhaustion, and the physical pain. Admittedly, he thrives on the adventure; the desire to beat the odds and to be successful. Yet, the life he has built by the grace favor of the Lord blesses many and provides for his family in a way the small town boy could never have imagined. 

Because of his example his sons have grown to be hard working Jesus loving husbands and fathers. Different choices, different paths have resulted in varied experiences; but each owe who they have are and continue to become to their dad.

Perfect man, of course not. Emotions kept locked up tight. His affections demonstrated though his work, his provision, and occasional kind word. Bristly exterior disguises a tender spirit seen only occasionally by his help mate, the exceptionally discerning or those brave enough to venture in close. Despite the crusty exterior I am blessed to be his wife and for better or worse we will make it to the end. God is our foundation. The Cross our lifeline. The family we have grown a blessed gift from our Heavenly Father.
Happy Father's day dear husband. May our sweet Saviour continue to lead us on this amazing adventure.

there will be times my mama said

May 26th, I guess that is next Monday or Sunday? My mom would be seventy five years old if she were still walking around down here on Earth. Instead I am left to wonder how her staying would have made a difference in my life? I would definitely be a better gardener. I might even still be canning, keeping, putting up foodstuff from a vegetable garden of sorts. At the very least my fledgling patch of spindly perennials would benefit from her knowledge and hopefully from a touch or two of her green thumbs.
Would I be a better parent? A better grandparent, cause she would be a great grandparent soon to be seven times.  Her words of wisdom and insight so faded from memory, lost in the years buried beneath the turmoil of today. My prayer would be that her words, thoughts, admonishings are implanted in my being beyond the cognizant deep in my innermost.
Do I wish her back from the Presence of the Father? How could I? Her joy complete, her song of praise sweetly ministering to my Jesus. The Jesus who carries me, feeds me, presents me with my every breath and very life; she sits in His Presence. Selfishly, I wouldn't mind a conversation or two. An embrace, some advice on my rocky soil. Eternity is a quick breath away. Whereas each moment here with the ones I cherish a gift beyond compare. To die is gain, it live is Christ. In this imperfect fallen world I can ask for nothing more.

Looking Back

found this in an old note section on Facebook

Monday September 29, 2008
Bottle Baby

Kaleb is asleep; DA is sucking down his evening cocktail of baby formula and rice cereal. Yum, yum! I have just tried to type that four times. My fingers are sure not doing the walking tonight. I swore I would never prop up a bottle for a baby. Oh, well...so many things change. I do have to grab him and burp him or the sleeping may not go so well. He smells so good right now it would be a shame to stink him up with baby puke...fluids again. OK, burping with one hand typing with the other. That's not working so well either.

All is complete. Both babes are sound asleep. Jer brought me some stuff that needs filled out by tomorrow; at least its not two dozen cupcakes or something awful like that. As soon as I get the pics from my camera from my dad's I will post one or two.

Babies keep getting cuter, but I am getting a bit weary. I need my spirit stirred for the long haul. On one hand I cannot imagine not having them, but on the other I am leaning heavily on the Power of God to bring me through this on so many levels. These tiny little people so dependent, so helpless to continue on without their every need being met through the grownups in their lives. The honor, privilege, responsibility of it all is awesome in the overwhelmingly filled with awe kind of way.

And, in a completely different way than the other day I am undone.

Mother's Day

Sometimes a girl has to stay up too late. Just to think. To think about all the stuff, important stuff in her life. Being a mom, a wife, a friend, a crummy housekeeper. All the stuff of life that makes her smile, like being the only one awake and listening to the snoring. If they are snoring and near enough for her to hear it; then they are safe. And somehow; illogically its because of her.
She thinks at least at this moment, she is certain beyond certain that she knows she would die or kill to protect.
The passion of it so strong her heart quickens. the physical,  organic, visceral love aches and soars, coursing, throbbing.
But will she live for Him? Will she acknowledge Him in her living, in her laughing? Explain how He catches her tears and especially cherishes the ones unshed, unseen, bitten back.
How good, how kind He is.
Her life and all its stuff is all about Him. Because of Him.
With a grateful sigh she knows it is He who makes the ordinary extraordinary. The fallen upright.
So she can stand.

Silly Life

My babies; six grandchildren, soon to be seven. With much anticipation I wait to see if the girls will begin to catch up or will the young men storm ahead continuing to crush the estrogen end or our growing family. During the formative years it was me and the boys...much later in life it again seems like that is my calling in life, to be the odd girl out in a testosterone laced castle where young princes reign and the old king prowls my palace wreaking dirty underwear, grimy dishes, and matchbox havoc. A palace where plants are grown to be uprooted, dishes are washed to be dirtied, and socks are doomed to live solitary lives searching with no avail for their life partner.

So will number seven be counted among the few the feminine or the mighty and masculine? Only our dear Father in Heaven and His Holy Son know for sure. The secret mysteries of the Heavens are revealed to us only when He allows, hopefully baiting a hungry people for more of Him. Filling our spiritual bellies with a glimpse of Forever in a fallen world. Sweet, sweet Jesus, give me just enough so I that I always yearn for More.

Opps

So I was going to write tonight, but I played on Facebook and was texting around instead. Now I am tired and am going to bed.
Waiting for the day when time will be on my side, and energy, and creativity; all at the same time.
Goodnight.

An old friend

I did not know I had this picture. Dear sweet Cool...well sweet like I am sweet maybe. I am leaving it at that for now. If you know me then you know I am able to be sweet, just not always evident. Cool was my first horse, and I so many ways my only horse. Yes, we have nine now, but none were or are my my horse in the same way. She has been gone for several years now and still I miss her. Together we learned may valuable life lessons. Seeing the picture brings back a flood of memories, and an empty stabbing sharpness. God gives us many great gifts but not all of them for keeps. Loss can often be as great a teacher as the gift itself if we allow it to turn the eyes of our hearts to the Greatest Gift, the One we can never lose. Today O Lord let me be ever so grateful for You.

no words

I cannot figure out why the words I need to spill out will not come to my mind or fingertips. So much emotion boiling bottled up within. A thrashing heart that cannot find the peace it needs, that seeks its savior, needs the Spirit, to reveal the grace, that begs for mercy, to relieve the pain of this world's wars.

Days Gone By

"Those were the days my friend, we thought they'd never end"
Simpler kinder days, when the future lay ahead, and not dangling behind as a long ago memory. Sullen thoughts for a girl redeemed by the Blood of a loving Savior. Musings tainted with self; self  pity, self centeredness, just plain old selfishness. Yuck! Not who I want to be, not who I thought I had worked hard to become. Jesus has rescued me from my own self, and praise God for that.. It is good that I see I am not who I think I am, at least not completely, still need sanctifying. I plead with my God to be always reminding me that all that I am is by His grace alone. All my treasures but trash before a Holy God.

Now, as far as the photos above, that was a bitter sweet day. I love my boy. I love that horse. We all looked pretty darn good that day. And tomorrow will bloom bright and new, regardless of my fickle heart. My thoughts are rambling like the tremble deep in my spirit that begs for a touch, a brushing, a passing nudge from Jesus, a reminder of His love for me,  in spite of my self.

Tears

Tears burst, drip, gush, and trickle; but from what from well do they spring forth? The eyes?  The heart? When we hold them in, back, keep them to ourselves, do they build up like a dam waiting for a future opportunity to overflow? Can they be stored up to be spent another day, waiting for a more opportune time to be displayed publically, or absorbed quietly into a favorite pillow?

We are grieving, or rejoicing, or lonely, or oddly pensive when the tiny droplets slip silently down a tightened jowl. Embarrassed hoping they have escaped unseen, or prayerfully seeking solace from a trusted friend, our tears beg to be accounted, collected, remembered, honored if only within our own watery soul.

Demonstrating courage, we forge ahead, confident that no weapon, no weariness, no brokenness can stand against the loving sacrifice of our Caring Savior. We are held close, protected and comforted by arms we cannot see yet always confident in their gentle strength that never lets us loose.

Any Day Now

Any Day Now

What? What? Really?

Life happens. Children grow up. Leave home. The song is about a love affair, not family relationships. Or friends. Or our health. Or our brain function. Or our agility and mobility. Yet, all of these facets of our simplistically complicated lives ebb and flow; they fluctuate. In my life anyhow, nothing stays the same from one day to the next, and hence the chorus of this tune is often weaving though my thoughts. My constantly evolving family grows everyday. Grows in number and maturity; stature and complexity. As a preschooler proudly presents his paintings and projects so I display the smeary out of the lines canvas of my life and family. Far from perfect but lovely beyond compare; I know the heavenly Father's loving fingers will with gentle brush strokes fill in the blanks and smooth the misshapen until that final day when the picture complete will hang in Glory.

of life and love and loyalty

Seems like a lot of thoughts to take on in one blog entry. Why I choose a title and them try and write inspired is beyond me, especially this morning when honestly I should be making breakfast, or rousting Jeremiah, or running to the barn myself to throw some hay at the hungry horses. But the house is uncharacteristically quiet and my fingers and heart were drawn to the page.

In a nutshell, in case I get, when I get sucked away:

•    Life is fragile; eternity is one breath away for all of us
•    Love unconditionally, even those you do not really care for. If God has placed them in your  life; they are yours to love without question or excuse.
•    Loyalty, to our dearest is without a question absolute. Keep confidences, bear offences without wavering in affection. Even when we have no reason to remain, never leave their side.

Sometimes,

• life is often really hard . God is good. Always
• Love can hurt and cut like a long hot knife. God will provide the healing balm of his suffering to ease yours
•  Loyalty can take many forms, including distance. Be sure it is affirmed and confirmed.  Never allow the folks in your life to doubt yours even when space is required to keep love alive.

God will always provide a way. Seek it with your whole heart.

Weary

How odd that life can be so difficult; as a Christian, shouldn't I be Joyful in all situations? Giddy with the Love of God? Well, I am not. I am tired. My bones ache with a weariness deeper than pain, a fatigue of the heart as well as the body. My desire is to rise up in the life I am called to live, sometimes the rising up is more difficult than others, today seems to be one of those times. I do not desire to be a martyr, don't want to be remembered as one who suffered for the cause. My desire is to live my life, my way, and have God say it was His Plan. But really, how do we know His Plan? How can I be sure I am suffering for His Glory and not my own? Oh yea, I said I did not want to suffer, or did I?  The adulation one receives for doing a hard thing can be intoxicating. Praise and being told you are an inspiration to many can be addictive. It is not all that hard to humbly assure the praiser that really I am not all that worthy; I am just doing the job I have been given. And, I am, doing the job I have been given. Nights like tonight cause me to wonder, "Am I really supposed to be doing this job?" Do I hold on to it because it is the RIGHT THING or because I am too cowardly to stand up and say, "You know what? I should not be doing this." If this "calling" is hurting the rest of my family, my own mental and physical health, is it what God WANTS me to be doing? If it were a case of merely my suffering for the greater good of others that would be an easy question to answer, despite the challenge, I want to do hard things for my God. What I don't want is to keep doing a job that is meant for someone else. Am I willing to remove my hand to let God show His? Or, do I keep pressing in, waiting for His Hand to show me a better way to continue on? I do not want to be a coward, either by continuing on this path or by admitting I am weak and am walking in shoes not meant for my feet. How do I hear God?
I love my little boys, like I have loved all my sons. I want them to have the very best life possible. I am not convinced our home is that very best. I know it is not the best for my husband or my teenage son. I raised four sons to men basically on my own. I should be able to do it again with only two. If this truly were God, would it be so absolutely difficult every day of our lives. Would I not have trained the younger one by now that screaming I hate you and spitting at me is not a good thing? After four years surely I should have been a good enough parent that I could take one small child for milk and eggs and not have the store manager correct that child twice, only to have him run out of the store into a busy parking lot? What kind of parent/grandparent am I? Now, am I slobbering in self pity? Or, is this real frustration? And fear? I need counsel. The kind and supportive lady, one child's therapist, keeps looking me in the eyes and  gently reassuring me that, I can do this. I do not need a cheerleader, don't get me wrong, I really like her and she is helpful. But, I do not believe she understands the depth of dysfunction that we walk in. I am not sure this rant is meant to be published. Certainly is not my usual ramble of humor and spiritual quips. Definitely not posting the link on Facebook. If any of my true followers, all two of you, have any input or thoughts I would love to hear from you. I do know I need to talk to a pastor. I know God has a Grand Plan, I know it like I know my name...(no smart comments) it is other folks whose names I forget. But every option open to us, and they are few, has real and major flaws. Please pray for me, for us. For my teen, my husband, and my precious little boys.

Howling

Wind whines and whirls outside my window, reminding one of a snarling dragon circling and circling his prey. Even the six inches of insulation and super snug Anderson windows can't keep out the menacing, mocking of the angry gales. Inside I sit on my chair, even the dog senses the threat, completely out of character she limps up and forces a spot for herself at my side. Her head on the arm of the chair she stares out into the gray morning keeping a quiet watch all the time hip pressed to hip at my side, like me taking comfort in the nearness of a loyal friend. Both of us slower and creakier than an earlier time but still, though often grudgingly, embracing the chores laid before us at this winter season of life. I suppose for me it is only a mid autumn as far as age, but today in body and spirit, my bones and heart feel the heavy chill of winter and its formidable darkness. Remorse seeps in as I pine for an warmer sunnier countenance; I plead for a lighter heart and more limber joints. My desire is to laugh at the days ahead and to be confident in the sustenance of my Lord.

The above photo shows the brilliance of the morning sun as it shines through a frozen landscape. My prayer today is that the Light of the Lord will break into my cold tired heart and allow the beauty of the day, of my life, of my salvation to illuminate my path, warming my frozen ambition into activity and purpose; lifting me out of my comfortable lazy chair, taking up the mantle placed upon me with excitement and joy, knowing that my living even what I cannot see or sense will produce in myself and those around me a Holy Garden that will nourish and sustain.

breathing

Life, the inhaling and exhaling oxygen and other related gases; a fist sized muscle contacting rhythmically pumping the fluids of life to waiting appendages and organs. Humans, the most complex living organism on the planet Earth. Organically speaking. If only it were all that simple. Inhaling and exhaling. At times this bare minimum can become the equivalent of climbing Everest. Not that I have or ever will have the desire to experience that hefty feat. I began this little essay months ago. At the time thought it trite and let it lie in the draft pile. Wishing to write a few words about the holiday, and other events I discovered the opening sentences a bit intriguing. Though now the day's events have taken their toll and my eyes and are begging me to put them and the rest of my humanness to bed. I must comply. I will leave this little teaser hoping to get back to it before too many more days pass. So that being typed, Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night.

Day in the City

Well not really, unless you consider Gettysburg PA a city; but for a Drew and I it was a day on the town and the battlefield. But that is for later. Maybe way later as fatigue from the day's adventure is taking it's toll. Sure hope I wake up hungry at some point since I brought home from the restaurant an amazing looking piece of pecan pie. But for now alas, I must close my eyes. Dang, really wanted to memorialize this day.

Will

Will is a horse; Will is Jeremiah's horse. Will is a very large horse. Will is so large that I am always impressed, always, every time I see him, impressed with his immense mass. I walk into his stall five days a week , sometimes more. Every time I am amazed at is height and bulk. Each time I stand beside him and stroke his neck or scratch his back I am grateful he is also a very kind horse. He will quietly drop his head so I can slip his halter over his ears, which is necessary since he stands six feet tall at the neck; so his head towers far above mine.
When I walk past him in the run he turns and follows my steps with his eyes, sometimes lumbering along behind just to see what I am up to. He is always polite, waiting patiently for his hay or his three gallon bucket of heavy sweet feed laced with high fat pellets and expensive joint powder. Sadly our gentle giant suffers from multiple joint ailments. The Cosequin powder and monthly injections keep him sound and able to carry his boy across the sand and over the rails.
The bond between the boy and the horse shines in the eyes of the big bay. I am so thankful God brought Will to our family, to my son. He has taught me much about the heart of a horse and about the care of our God. Once frightened and anxious slowly both Will and Jer learned to trust respect one another. Looking back I'm not sure who was more afraid of who. Both tested the other. Jer with his lack of skill and Will with a twisting buck that sent this mother to her knees. Still they refused to give in or give up.
Ribbons have been won and tears have been shed. In the end the two have strengthened own resolve to overcome my toughest hurdles, the ones I lay for myself.
As the horse and the boy had to conquer their inner fears to become together triumphant, Lord help me to allow you to touch my heart and lead to me into victory.

past due

Should be in bed. should have taken a shower. should have been a nicer person today. should have spent more time outside, maybe even weeded something. should have probably gone to the bathroom before I started typing. should have poured myself a smaller glass of wine. should have made that list of things I need to do today, the one I told myself to write up several weeks ago. should have finished the thank you notes to people who did nice stuff for us after my dad died. Instead, I sit here doing nothing, needing to pee and go to bed; too lazy to get up, or maybe to stiff to move.
Even so, life is good, God is great, and I like my wine chilled.

Outside NOW!!!

Can't a girl even enjoy a beer? Globe broken off bedroom light, conveniently snagged from the top bunk, with a plastic coat hanger, plastic for safety. Package of Sponge Bob single serving Mac n Cheese scattered over an entertainment center and wooden floor laden with Thomas the Train puzzle pieces, makes for a challenging clean up should anyone be wondering. Hose turned on outside of the barn whilst Ammie is feeding horses inside the barn, river running into the barn across the dirt floor. No limes for the Corona I decide is required. "Get ur hands OUT OF your pants." for the third time. Hears water spigot turning on around the corner out of sight, God graciously afflicted this particular faucet with a high pitched squeally squeak. K..... get out of the garden. D..... clean that potting soil off the sidewalk. Use your high lift if you have to. Get your hands out of your underwear. Maybe you should use a bigger high lift. Just saying. Wonder if my potatoes boiled over yet. So need the grace of God and limes

What happened to the rest of the pictures

So why did the Blogger ap cut off half of my picture? Huh! Not happy...