The Path

A path into the woods extends an invitation that no other option in my day offers. It beckons me to step inside a place that is outside. A place I walk alone. And the farther I venture, the less I hear the voices I've left behind. Now I am hearing leaves underfoot and branches bending under the tiny feather weight of a bird resting to investigate my passing. My steps persist and I am aware of the silence. In the silence my spirit quickens to the slightest movement. Soon I am noticing tiny changes. I hear breath where I had not known any life existed...until I walked the path.

That path is what prayer is like to me. It is an invitation to see life that I will not experience any other way. Having a conversation with God, I am soon hearing His voice instead of my own. I am going inside a place that is outside of myself. That slight movement is God's attentiveness. And those changes are the working of His Spirit on the one I for whom I am praying.

The temptation is to turn back. Voices are calling, there is work to be done. I stand on the edge of that path and unless I have fully entered, I will see no difference.

Milking Day

"It's a gift. Either you got it or you don't." Mr. Lankford was talking about homesteading. I could feel my throat tighten up. "What if I don't have it?" my mind was asking itself. I was there to milk a cow for the first time and I was really nervous that I couldn't do it. Mr. Lankford didn't know I was apprehensive about the cow recognizing me as an imposter and kicking me off the stool.

He's been teaching me everything from how to make butter to how to stop a dog from sucking eggs. Now I am ready to go to the source for my butter making. Two years on the farm and I feel the time has come to consider owning our own cow.

As he calls Rosie in and sits down to get started, I'm thinking, "Oh good. He's doing to do it." But has luck would have it he gets up and says, "You try." He didn't say a word as I pulled and tugged and nothing came out. Finally! I hear the milk hit the pail and I almost cried! "You're doing good," he says and I finally relax. I could feel my back aching because I had not set my stool close enough to the cow. But as I got more comfortable, so did Rosie. I didn't get a glassful that first day. But I got something: the gumption to go back day after day and keep trying. So I'm milking, the kids are milking and Mr. Lankford and Rosie remain very patient.

Needful Things

I love making New Year's resolutions. Not too fond of keeping them. I am a starter. I have countless sewing and craft projects waiting patiently for me in nice little boxes. My head is full of farming practices that I want to fit into the second half of our school year. I always have a number of colorful, curling bookmarks peering out from books sitting on flat surfaces around my house. They call to me as I walk from room to room, "Just one page. Pick me up and feast your eyes on what I am holding inside."

So today, like all January ones, I am laying out the things I really need for a new year. I need God's Word to light my path. When I slow down to read it, I am drawn away from my scattered yet fun pursuits back to the one that matters most. My highlighter with it's ever-ready book marks. Because I will always read more than one book at a time and I will need to go back and reread inspiring discoveries. My personal journal. Someday a distant relative will discover there was an old lady in her past who shared her dreams to change the world. A small box to hold cards listing the names and needs of those I pray for. And lastly a book of memories for each child. Occasionally I pick up these books and jot down a memory too precious to let time push aside. I am discovering that many characteristics I noticed in my children as toddlers are proving to be foundational to the persons God is developing them to be. Keeping these books was wise advice given me from a wise friend.

So what do I want to do with this stack of stuff? I want to slow down to meditate and memorize the parts of scripture that arrest my heart. I want to write, write, write my love to my children. I want to read an hour a day, farming books mostly. I want to learn new things and try new things and start new projects that I don't have time to finish. I want to get every drop out of this precious life I have been given.

2011 In Pictures

My Frosting

What if imagination and art are not frosting, but the fountainhead of human existence? My friend Megan tweeted this quote after seeing a piece of art bearing it. I find it quite validating because I thrive on stolen moments when I can exercise a little creative expression.

The temptation is to allow ourselves the freedom for creativity only when all the dishes are washed and the math problems completed. Maybe we are getting it wrong. Maybe using our imagination more would alter how we view other responsibilities.

My oldest son started high school this year and we changed his curriculum to make room for his musical pursuits. Ah the freedom of homeschooling! Much like Danny, all of our kids are creative, so I feel it my duty to model a little creativity from time to time and let the dishes wait!

Intentional Friendship

Three years ago I left a gathering with friends feeling exhausted and discouraged. Driving home, this single line permeated my thoughts: "These people don't really know me and they are ok with that." I made a decision that day to evaluate my friendships. I actually made a list. I wrote down the names of friends who leave me drained in one column and the names of those who inspire, encourage and are like-minded in the other. Then I made a commitment to spend my time and energy pursuing relationships with those on the 2nd list instead of spending time with the others out of habit. This has proven to be a turning point in my life.

Three years later relationships look very different to me. I have fewer people in my life. But the relationships with these people are so much deeper. I've since moved to another state. But I am finding that the friends I intentionally spent time with are still a part of my life. Ironically, alot of the busyness I used to think was normal has melted away and intentional living has replaced it. Hmmm.

Meet the Milkman

I really like him. He's got the greatest smile. I get a little nervous when I am around him. I can tell I'm nervous because I talk too much. I should be listening. He has so much to tell. I have to listen intently because his voice gruff and small. But his knowledge isn't. And I can just bet if I'd stop peppering him with questions, I'd hear more than just the answers I seek.

Mr. Lankford will be 80 this year. He's my favorite person in Cherryville. Thanks to him we drink fresh, raw milk. Thanks to him we make our own butter. Thanks to him our chickens are eating organically and laying through the coldest months. I never tire of driving across town when we need milk because I know I'm going to learn something from his words. On the drive back, I try not to forget what he says about okra and soil and timing. I have a journal back home where I record his admonishments on gardening and animal husbandry.
As soon as the sky stops dumping snow on us and the sun warms the ground, he's going to teach me to milk a cow. Living simply has brought many blessings.