tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273983022024-03-05T03:32:12.925-08:00Girl On A Roof<center><b>Loving my family - living my life - learning to be a farmgirl.</b></center>girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.comBlogger178125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-23283651430904682452013-11-25T22:02:00.001-08:002013-11-25T22:39:19.840-08:00Arise, Shine!<style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8YgL-PWYS-VaTiJHSjhy_OUNSKjAzYATi-RX4LmeOzYIlYvREvB1j0IFtxJGMRue61BlbUQJQbU97V2IISyeLojTvtCrtLuAGlHpG8vAodaQwxpJd7-gDtwsdN2-ZpDxsx6p/s1600/Arise-Shine-CD+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8YgL-PWYS-VaTiJHSjhy_OUNSKjAzYATi-RX4LmeOzYIlYvREvB1j0IFtxJGMRue61BlbUQJQbU97V2IISyeLojTvtCrtLuAGlHpG8vAodaQwxpJd7-gDtwsdN2-ZpDxsx6p/s1600/Arise-Shine-CD+cover.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span class="textisa-9-2">The people who walk in darkness</span>
</div>
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<span class="textisa-9-2">will see a great light;</span><br />
<span class="textisa-9-2">Those who live in a dark land,</span> </div>
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t<span class="textisa-9-2">he light will shine on them. (Isaiah
9:2)</span></div>
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<span class="textisa-60-1">Arise, shine; for your light has
come,</span> </div>
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a<span class="textisa-60-1">nd the glory of the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="textisa-60-1"> has risen upon you. (Isaiah 60:1)</span></div>
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<span class="textisa-60-1">Thousands of years ago God made
this promise through the prophet Isaiah to send His light to shine on those
living in the shadow of death. That light came through the birth of a baby -
Jesus. </span></div>
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<span class="textisa-60-1">Ironically, it is the death of babies that is casting a shadow over
families in China.</span></div>
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Under China’s One Child Policy, mothers who become pregnant
with a second child are assessed huge fines (more than their annual
salary); they face imprisonment, forced abortion and sterilization. Mothers who
can avoid the authorities and give birth are often forced by their families to
abandon their daughters in hopes of trying again for a son. Families who choose
to keep their second child do so under the burden of huge fines that make it difficult
to feed their families; these children are often refused schooling and health
care.</div>
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Today, <a href="http://www.popscripturesongs.com/" target="_blank">Pop Scripture Songs</a> releases our first Christmas
single – Arise, Shine! (Featuring our talented friend <a href="http://chriscolemanband.com/Chris_Coleman_Band/Home.html" target="_blank">Chris Coleman</a> and my husband and four kids!) <a href="http://popscripturesongs.bandcamp.com/track/arise-shine" target="_blank">The digital download is available here</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> All proceeds will go to an organization
for the prevention of gendercide in China - <a href="http://www.allgirlsallowed.org/" target="_blank">All Girls Allowed</a>. When you
download this single, you’ll be helping mothers in China who are desperate to
save their babies from abandonment or forced abortion. The minimum is $1 to purchase. However, you can give more or buy the song to send to others.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhqq1XzphY3mBiNezSwz8xe6z6YL1i9pEBUFfPswsQc5i9Ml-IjnXR_KHLhrSQjUvFx7E6bmcJ9TuIqKdN1kHKxryZEJ826UxaEvMrywSDQSbAhrXtLmBU6WUeX_vFISqgvAv/s1600/Circle+Logo+-+vector+pink(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhqq1XzphY3mBiNezSwz8xe6z6YL1i9pEBUFfPswsQc5i9Ml-IjnXR_KHLhrSQjUvFx7E6bmcJ9TuIqKdN1kHKxryZEJ826UxaEvMrywSDQSbAhrXtLmBU6WUeX_vFISqgvAv/s1600/Circle+Logo+-+vector+pink(1).jpg" height="188" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span class="textisa-60-1"><a href="http://www.allgirlsallowed.org/" target="_blank">All Girls Allowed</a> will use proceeds
from our sales in two ways: to pay government fines for a mother so she is not
forced to abort her baby and to give a monthly stipend to mothers who are
trying to keep their babies but cannot afford to feed and clothe them. All proceeds go directly to China.</span></div>
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<span class="textisa-60-1">Please share this <a href="http://popscripturesongs.bandcamp.com/track/arise-shine" target="_blank">Christmas single</a>
with your friends and family. Let’s spread the word and help save lives in
China this Christmas!</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="197" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/OScOV2MPZiM?list=UUMrLjMAS8FCsWw7rXDsFbhw" width="350"></iframe><br />girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-52915604203775807062013-11-12T19:29:00.001-08:002013-11-12T19:58:37.304-08:00Your Family's Path<span class="text Luke-1-78" id="en-NLT-24940">Because of God’s tender mercy,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Luke-1-78">the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us,</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Luke-1-78"> </span></span><span class="text Luke-1-79" id="en-NLT-24941"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Luke-1-79">and to guide us to the path of peace. Luke 1:78-79</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Luke-1-79">I love that this passage is a part of a prophecy a dad speaks concerning his son. The Spirit came upon Zechariah. Simple as that. I believe we could all be prophesying over our children if we seek the Spirit of Almighty God. Zechariah's son, John the Baptist, was a world changer. His dad saw it and spoke it...outloud...in front of all his neighbors. </span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Luke-1-79"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Luke-1-79">I've been going back to this passage for the past 6 months. Our family has kind of adopted this as our mission for our <a href="http://www.popscripturesongs.com/" target="_blank">Pop Scripture Songs</a> project. As we meditate on this, we see that God is blessing our efforts to play and sing together to make this music. He is giving us great organizations to partner with to shine His light. And all of this is carrying us down a path of peace.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Luke-1-79"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Luke-1-79">The path of peace is what I find intriguing. How do you discover your path? What will bring your family peace?</span></span><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Luke-1-79"> I believe the path of peace is trod by obedience, by compassion, by love. God's specific path for each of us may be different. But our starting line is the same: HOME. Home is where we learn to obey, to love, to value others. So my challenge to you is to really love and serve the people you live with. Children who love their siblings will love others. Children who encourage each other will grow to be adults who lift up those who hurt. Young adults who have felt compassion for their little brothers and sisters will step out of your door and into this world with an empathetic heart. We have to teach our kids unselfishness. The world is not going to do it. So the next time you have to stop what you are doing to correct a child, to wipe up a spill, to sooth hurt feelings, think of it this way: you are clearing a path. Your example marks the path that your children will walk.</span></span>girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-67474505161216834932013-06-08T16:42:00.002-07:002013-06-10T07:30:08.984-07:00Pop Scripture Songs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh52w_xfUh2_M2HZ9eLIguJLIvW0RL0ZUA790y4oTcihft-Lr7x-wT6fN8bVPeODk0f_zfE_mU0MzwykFIz5qNmOPM5nDpIOH8ENDeXjT9YdZ5eJkPpzVDYqzigWIiIYUd1jvHc/s1600/Logo_single.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh52w_xfUh2_M2HZ9eLIguJLIvW0RL0ZUA790y4oTcihft-Lr7x-wT6fN8bVPeODk0f_zfE_mU0MzwykFIz5qNmOPM5nDpIOH8ENDeXjT9YdZ5eJkPpzVDYqzigWIiIYUd1jvHc/s1600/Logo_single.png" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I used Grammarly to <a href="http://www.grammarly.com/" target="_blank">grammar check</a> this post,
because when my kids did their year-end testing last week I realized I don’t
know as much as they do!!</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">As
a child, these words awed me and even frightened me a little. But as an adult,
they carry an intriguing mystery that draws me closer to their meaning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i> “<span class="textheb-4-12">For
the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest
two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It
exposes our innermost thoughts and desires.” Hebrews 4:12 NLT</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">One
mystery is that God's Word does not wait around for someone to explain it. It
moves out. In all its power, it seeks to transform. And the innocence of a child’s heart has a way of recognizing
and absorbing truth before the world has a chance to distort it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Memorizing
scripture is powerful.
Storing up God’s Word in the hearts of our children is an investment. We can equip them with the truth they
will certainly need to divide right from wrong, good from great. <span style="font-size: small;">Our family is excited to sha<span style="font-size: small;">re<span style="font-size: small;"> http://popscripturesongs.com/ with your family. <span style="font-size: small;">We<span style="font-size: small;">'ve had so much fun<span style="font-size: small;"> making this <span style="font-size: small;">music as a family. We </span></span></span>hope you will have fun memorizing <span style="font-size: small;">scripture toget<span style="font-size: small;">her<span style="font-size: small;"> too.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </div>
girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-62729029171409819892013-02-16T16:44:00.000-08:002013-02-16T16:45:54.883-08:00Angels On the Farm?<style>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Thank you for the beautiful music," her </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">text read. My neighbor sent that text at 12:42 a.m. The next morning when I saw it, </span>I assured her we had been asleep. She said she was just sure it was Danny and the
kids singing. She had taken her dogs out late that night, heard the sound and stood outside to listen. "I thanked God for the beautiful
night sky, wonderful neighbors and the music," her text continued. That was three months ago.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I wondered myself from where the music had come. There is only one house close to ours. I know sound carries and I know it could be explained away. I laughed it off until she heard it again. Sometimes the boys in my family drag the drum kit outside, plug up the amps and go for it. But we don't do that at night. And they haven't played music outside in a long time anyway. So I reiterated that it wasn't us. But she said: “Are you sure? I was facing your house and it
was coming from your way.” When I assured her that we had already gone to bed
about an hour before she heard the music, she said, “Well it was the strangest
thing! The minute the music stopped, the lights in your house went out. So I went back
inside. It sounded just like Danny and the songs he sings with your kids.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">This came up again when some gals from our little community got together last week. Another neighbor said she hears the music too. She said if she goes outside late at night she sometimes hears singing. "It's coming from your house!" she insisted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I'd like to think there are angels singing over us. That our neighbors are being blessed by something we can't explain. I don't really know because I've never heard it. But I know this: Often in the Bible, God's presence is manifested through visits by angels. Zephaniah 3:17 says, </span><br />
<span class="text Zeph-3-17" id="en-NKJV-22838">"The <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> your God in your midst,</span><br />
<span class="text Zeph-3-17">The Mighty One, will save;</span><br />
<span class="text Zeph-3-17">He will rejoice over you with gladness,</span><br />
<span class="text Zeph-3-17">He will quiet <i>you</i> with His love,</span><br />
<span class="text Zeph-3-17">He will rejoice over you with singing.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Some time ago, Danny called me while on a trip in Australia. The reception was bad and he was kind of shaken up. All he said was, "Cindy, angels are singing over us." That was six years ago and we are just now beginning to see a glimpse of the vision God was revealing for our family. We have been recording an album over the last 10 months. Much of the vocals were done here on the farm. These are scripture memory songs. So I can't help but think that all that scripture being sung in our house, is bringing the presence of the Lord.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2XR5NFLEMVOctsgHarUlGEywscUvCccbEzP_hvkiJAtCByXWuPP49-WqhAd7fqxOMMHwcw950LPnMQWlR3uvnMb7QnDEq_UMvhRKA3kScRe0NP-6Ce5y2zz631GSAxiQ8CRT/s1600/IMG_3387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2XR5NFLEMVOctsgHarUlGEywscUvCccbEzP_hvkiJAtCByXWuPP49-WqhAd7fqxOMMHwcw950LPnMQWlR3uvnMb7QnDEq_UMvhRKA3kScRe0NP-6Ce5y2zz631GSAxiQ8CRT/s1600/IMG_3387.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">One other thing. And I will finish with this. Our youngest son (who is very musical and sings all the time) pulled me aside this summer. With tears in his eyes he said, "Mama, when I sing I can hear angels singing with me. It is so wonderful that it makes me cry." A couple days later, I took this photo. It reminded me that God assigns His angels to watch over us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">So there you have it! I don't know exactly what is going on around here or what my neighbors are hearing. But I know the time on this farm is special. It has been a place for our family to be set apart these three years. We have grown in our love for Christ, for each other and for the people God has placed in our path. So I have no desire to try to explain it away. Much like my neighbor, I'm just saying, "Thank you."</span></div>
girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-5409996133791575252013-02-14T20:53:00.002-08:002013-02-15T05:41:06.958-08:00We are not here by chance. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</style>There's a quiet route I like to take when walking near our farm. It meanders past a field of at least 50 donkeys. Though they are curious when I pass by, they are always respectful of my longing for silence. Because of this, I often wish I had 50 carrots in my pocket to share.<br />
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Tonight I am recalling one such walk when the silence paid off. As my path turned, I saw three of our neighbors with whom I have developed a close friendship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were chatting and examining the hooves of a horse. Just as I glimpsed them, a voice from beyond my own
imagination seemed to whisper, “This place is set apart,
protected. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is for healing. And right now it is for them.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That confidence grabbed my attention and I stopped to consider what I was hearing. It was as if the veil between heaven and earth opened and I was allowed a glimpse of something rare. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Three very different women, one quiet country pasture, something at work beyond their awareness. </span>I think I felt the peace intended for them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I have no
idea of the hurts they may have. But I am aware that my friendship with them is calling me to more diligent
prayer. As I am woven more tightly to the people of my community, I am beginning to understand why we have been placed here together. </div>
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One of these women later thanked me for the singing she said was coming from our house at a time we were asleep. That will be my next post.</div>
girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-1992688547021178262013-02-02T18:10:00.001-08:002013-02-02T18:10:26.252-08:00Fertilizer Fieldtrip<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFr7g61qz7Yqjv6lz66Un4gWjn6N2i08FtNDzJJwdYjHhUmiQSqXPcsc6TgIDCFIqefNQzUti7jHPy6d9fjBa09XzKo3lBUBI9AssFdLuvbnWb5FystTvB5DH3ftOzXl_kBtOv/s1600/IMG_5533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFr7g61qz7Yqjv6lz66Un4gWjn6N2i08FtNDzJJwdYjHhUmiQSqXPcsc6TgIDCFIqefNQzUti7jHPy6d9fjBa09XzKo3lBUBI9AssFdLuvbnWb5FystTvB5DH3ftOzXl_kBtOv/s1600/IMG_5533.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
"All the manure you can fit in the bed of your truck for 20 bucks," I hear an old farmer say. Hey that's music to my ears! I don't have a truck, so I call my friend Lisa and say, "Do you think your husband would let us take his truck today and fill it with poop?" Of course he says yes. He's a farmer. <br />
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I can hardly contain my excitement as I wait for Lisa to come and get me. We are going to fertilize the organic way. Considering the price of a bag of fertilizer, this is cheap AND good. I dress in old clothes. But I really don't have a clue what's ahead of me. We jump in the truck and drive to the chicken farm.<br />
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When I arrive, I discover that this old farmer is younger than I am. I tell him why we've come and he takes us to this huge mountain of manure. He says, "OK. If you really want it, I can scoop it into the back of your truck." He climbs up on his tractor and we are standing there ready to watch when he says, "You might want to get back in your truck and roll up the windows." Before we can heed this sage wisdom, we are covered in poopy dust. I mean head to toe! Up our noses, between our fingers - it's the nastiest smell I've ever encountered. It's all over us! We make a mad dash for the cab, rolling up the windows as fast as our fingers will move. We can feel the back of truck sink lower with each scoop.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQJZrVR4-mqhUfgg_32I5QGGdYWOK_dv97HlXp-C_yzX0NgQpoIA9WpvfYEhG57RJQftzuvgynltulhf38FGzIloqu1sF7jWYS_oYE6fH_d0OjGccmZyLYTZGopLQr-xcQeIa/s1600/IMG_7070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQJZrVR4-mqhUfgg_32I5QGGdYWOK_dv97HlXp-C_yzX0NgQpoIA9WpvfYEhG57RJQftzuvgynltulhf38FGzIloqu1sF7jWYS_oYE6fH_d0OjGccmZyLYTZGopLQr-xcQeIa/s1600/IMG_7070.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a><br />
As we drive away with our treasure, we feel like REAL women. I mean really! Who does this? We stop by the corner gas station for a Coke and a bag of peanuts. We've worked up quite an appetite. But we consider that our hands aren't clean enough to eat with. Should we wait til we get home to wash our hands? Nah... <br />
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The moral of this story...Everything washes off. I'd say we cleaned up pretty well.<br />
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girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-37687641318801788752013-01-28T17:19:00.000-08:002013-01-28T17:19:40.777-08:00Write to Your Children<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="text Isa-30-8"> I love a good one liner. They are easy for me. I love Instagram and Twitter. But they fool me into thinking I am keeping a record of the best moments of my life. Often I need to be reminded to write on paper...with a pen...something that will last. </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Isa-30-8"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Isa-30-8">My dear friend, Lisa, saw something silly I tweeted this week and reminded me of Isaiah 30:8</span></span><br />
<span class="text Isa-30-8">Now go and write down these words.</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Isa-30-8">Write them in a book.</span></span><br /><span class="text Isa-30-8">They will stand until the end of time</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Isa-30-8">as a witness. </span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Isa-30-8"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Isa-30-8"> I keep a different journal for each of my kids where I write down funny things they do, amazing things I see in each of them and just how much I love them. I hope these will be something they treasure one day. I want them to read their book and remember how God's hand has been on them since birth. They are each so different, so unique. I want them to know that I paid attention to the little things, the special things. </span></span>girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-63163855685980117832013-01-27T12:07:00.000-08:002013-01-27T13:26:36.327-08:00On Time and Distraction<style>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Urgent things pile up against
the imaginary door in my mind. They disguise themselves as important in an
attempt to fool me into letting them in.
If I crack the door just to humor them, they flood the creative dam
I’ve constructed to protect my time.
Soon I find that I am wading in distraction, checking off a busy to-do-list, not the agenda of my heart.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>My heart calls over the
rushing waters of busyness, entreating me not to be swept up in the
current. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I want to do something
every day worth writing in my journal. A small act can have an enduring effect. Reading a book to my boy when he looks
lonely or bored. Going for a walk
with a daughter who needs a break from schoolwork. Pausing as I rush from one task to the next because I hear in
the tone of my teen’s voice that he wants to talk. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Put down what’s in your hand
and look them in the eye, my soul tells me. But all the shoulds and musts are
vying for my attention, telling me things won’t get done if I don’t do
them. Diversion tries to
manipulate me, to steal from me.
It grows strength and confronts me, argues that I
don’t have enough time. If I will only focus my eyes on the path ahead, priorities float to the top and distractions evaporate.
Truth sings out what I know in my heart: I have plenty of time. It’s wisdom I
lack. I don’t need more time. I need to use my time more wisely.</span><style>
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girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-8388425628124577582013-01-26T11:07:00.000-08:002013-01-26T11:07:07.817-08:00Simple Homeschool
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHmHtUXmItQ4-KZTfaHlpQ3wGv3qzc2a67ePwcxAlxzsYM-GKMgfnh7LwvXRuSca7nAezSasxL24mdT5aq8xuIhUs2w6EDwxi1PbOdjvJ_EL____0E9HhM1az8Ye3G0sQsDM8/s1600/IMG_2661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHmHtUXmItQ4-KZTfaHlpQ3wGv3qzc2a67ePwcxAlxzsYM-GKMgfnh7LwvXRuSca7nAezSasxL24mdT5aq8xuIhUs2w6EDwxi1PbOdjvJ_EL____0E9HhM1az8Ye3G0sQsDM8/s1600/IMG_2661.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Telling
you what <span style="font-size: small;">a typical</span> day looks like puts me in a vulnerable position.<span> </span>I am tempted instead to tell you what I want my day to look
like. But where’s the fun in that<span style="font-size: small;">?</span> So here goes…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span>How early I <span style="font-size: small;">wake up</span> depend<span style="font-size: small;">s</span> on the season, what we have to
accomplish and how late I stayed up the night before!</span><span style="font-family: Times;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times;">I take an hour
by myself to prepare for the day<span style="font-size: small;">. I</span> sit in a quiet pl<span style="font-size: small;">ace reserved for listening</span>. It is <span style="font-size: small;">worthwhile f<span style="font-size: small;">or me</span></span> to hear
from God before I hear from all the people <span style="font-size: small;">in my house</span>. </span><span style="font-family: Times;"></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOTugaVjvSeIyGkZVFAq7Hvz9k6lam8NLUVY4IkDkiJY5LV0yBnzVY4J3w3RotqhNf33pNyjWE0RA0gYzvFSGPK21eclUWTG4mQniRClafNn0PHHF6pQqUfO4G767gxM-MRMM/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">I
cook breakfast while the kids get<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>moving, have their own quiet times and feed
the animals. If the chickens are laying, we eat eggs. If my farmer friend
has killed a pig, we eat sausage. My mom cleans the kitchen while the
kids and I gather around the table to start school. And YES! I do realize how
awesome this is! </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc91j41u9MW35JDbkLut9TaUJXrU-47bn3N4uOLAnnUNelVn5r3eRnpT8NLBJw4IKlAwNeUP3d_5Q5uDRTnFmOo_6ALBCGPQeMHl0mIf3wKi4jv2tSTDnW6xXw7wbJJdQsknGT/s1600/IMG_2291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc91j41u9MW35JDbkLut9TaUJXrU-47bn3N4uOLAnnUNelVn5r3eRnpT8NLBJw4IKlAwNeUP3d_5Q5uDRTnFmOo_6ALBCGPQeMHl0mIf3wKi4jv2tSTDnW6xXw7wbJJdQsknGT/s1600/IMG_2291.JPG" height="200" width="149" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;">This year we are studying</span> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">the Old Testament</span></span> and American History together. <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I <span style="font-size: small;">read</span></span> aloud for t</span>hese two subjects and
the ensuing conversation can last <span style="font-size: small;">un</span>til lunch if the topics are intriguing.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Times;"></span><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking back, I treasure the foundation that reading <span style="font-size: small;">aloud has established for our<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span> family interaction. </span>T</span>he kids draw, paint, knit, sculpt clay<span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: small;">or work o<span style="font-size: small;">n our timeline</span></span> while listening.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">After we break for lunch, </span>I </span>cover the <span style="font-size: small;">basics</span> like math,
science and</span><span style="font-family: Times;">
grammar<span style="font-size: small;"> with the younger three</span>. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;">M</span>y
10<sup>th</sup> grader <span style="font-size: small;">does <span style="font-size: small;">the <span style="font-size: small;">bulk</span></span> of his work</span> independently. </span></span>We write and give oral reports as part of a very small co-op. <span style="font-size: small;">We <span style="font-size: small;">have a list of assignments and</span> indoor chores<span style="font-size: small;"> to check off. But I will admit that <span style="font-size: small;">more o<span style="font-size: small;">ften <span style="font-size: small;">than not, if the weather is invi<span style="font-size: small;">ting, we <span style="font-size: small;">e<span style="font-size: small;">scape outdoors</span></span> befo<span style="font-size: small;">re <span style="font-size: small;">ind<span style="font-size: small;">oor </span></span>tasks are done<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">When it’s planting time, we <span style="font-size: small;">are learning in the dirt</span>. Harvest time? Well that’s health and nutrition, as we can homemade salsa
and make our own natural medicines for winter colds. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdj2t_XOQLsOFcgJ4loA0ek8n1tMxwAKZZ-WtSwwsK4QW9WU7lCnieb0xpOQXjYlvOfkylpbVk5DgGPjtpmBInb-SXQwMWjy2XP6NL8Ob2FF_I54EDc6FAFZEma6oT0P5rocOW/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdj2t_XOQLsOFcgJ4loA0ek8n1tMxwAKZZ-WtSwwsK4QW9WU7lCnieb0xpOQXjYlvOfkylpbVk5DgGPjtpmBInb-SXQwMWjy2XP6NL8Ob2FF_I54EDc6FAFZEma6oT0P5rocOW/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've shared the basic framework of <span style="font-size: small;">our </span></span>homeschool days.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span> <span style="font-size: small;">But what I really wan<span style="font-size: small;">t to leave you with is this: </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don't be <span style="font-size: small;">afraid to change your schedule to let real life in. No book assignment will ever be as impor<span style="font-size: small;">tant as a convers<span style="font-size: small;">ation with <span style="font-size: small;">your</span> c<span style="font-size: small;">hild <span style="font-size: small;">about</span> hurt feelings or his <span style="font-size: small;">dre<span style="font-size: small;">ams <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">for</span> the future</span></span></span>.</span></span></span></span> <span style="font-size: small;">If you fill the day with bus<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">y</span>ness, <span style="font-size: small;">there</span> won't <span style="font-size: small;">be</span> time for questions. </span>And by all means, don't <span style="font-size: small;">judge t<span style="font-size: small;">he day's worth<span style="font-size: small;"> by</span> c<span style="font-size: small;">omp<span style="font-size: small;">aring<span style="font-size: small;"> your day to someone else's</span>. </span></span></span></span></span></span>The earth looks different
according to the seasons, <span style="font-size: small;">and I think our lives</span> should too. </span></span>
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girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-1259484028854661312013-01-22T19:51:00.000-08:002013-01-27T08:02:31.344-08:00Simply Family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">Our first night in this farmhouse was spent with 6 of us trying to pile onto one air mattress. We <span style="font-size: small;">tried</span> to make the most of what we had until the next day when the furniture arrived. Jett woke up crying for Georgia, which made me cry. We didn't have anything to drink and there weren't enough blankets. But the next morning as the sun rose on our <span style="font-size: small;">little farm</span>, snow flakes fell like soft reminders that our time with one another is a gift. This was a dream! Unfortunately, there was no outerwear in our dream. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Cambria;">So out I went to buy boots
and bread, mittens and milk, and of course the one ugly Christmas tree that's <span style="font-size: small;">your only option</span> when you're right up against the 25th. It wasn't until after
the snow melted and we had to start scrubbing the toilets that we realized this
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<span style="font-size: small;">Life got simple fast. There's no where to shop around here unless you are looking for fresh eggs or local honey. And if you want to get out of the house, you go play in the woods, or shovel manure in the barn. Fast food means a lunch the kids can fix for themselves. And date night might mean packing a basket and driving the golf cart over to a neighboring farm. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">My point is that we are home. Alot. We are together. Alot. And the result is we love each other more and more every day. My kids are best friends and they depend on each other. I think this is normal. They can't wait to finish their school work and build a fort or ride bikes or shoot arrows...with each other! I don't run to this lesson and that meeting, doing things I used to think I had to do. We don't even take many field trips. We are living the field trip!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">My idea of simplifying is saying no to things that swallow up my time so I can fill those precious moments with learning and growing and loving the people around me. I just can't allow the urgent to crowd out the important. I'm making it my life mission to spend my time with my family first. <span style="font-size: small;">T</span>ime is so limited. <span style="font-size: small;">I want</span> to treat it like the treasure that it is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">So what do we do all day? I'll tell you that in my next post.</span><br />
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<br />girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-71708444021503837382013-01-21T18:52:00.000-08:002013-01-27T08:02:31.346-08:00First You Have to Dream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Three years ago, our family of 8 gave up our busy lifestyle in the Atlanta suburbs to farm a little piece of land in North Carolina. People often ask how they can make this work in real life. How do you cut the cord and live simply? <br />
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First you have to dream. I remember telling my husband, "I'm going to drink out of a Mason jar every day until we live on a farm." But I had to find a Mason jar! Today I have jars stacked in all my cabinets, under my bed and on top of the lovely fridge we keep on the side porch. Oh yeah, that is not a joke!<br />
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Who cares if people think your dreams are crazy? Which leads me to my second point....You can't care what people think. You aren't living for them. So decide just how simply you want to start and go for it. You can simplify anywhere. Eat less. Use less. Go out less. Sign up for less. Say yes less.<br />
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You have to say no to a lot of good things if you want to have time to say yes to a few great things. Let simplicity rewrite your list of priorities. In the words of Andy Stanley, "Your time is limited. So limit how you will spend your time."<br />
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This a small start. But I believe simplifying your life starts with a pencil in your hand and a dream in your heart. So get in a quiet place and make a list. What do you want to prioritize? Tomorrow I will talk about family. That's who will really benefit when you start to simplify. You will find that you have more time for them. And they will love you for it!girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-65155619576594562892012-06-07T08:57:00.000-07:002013-02-15T05:43:15.410-08:00Finding Answers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_8qBxsTmHTBP4AJ1eJ8uRCmPy1iLKdoBf3LNSMx6AgYu6qDjNOirF2-bPVC0Poh3SFMisiBkDyEvqfuz5rmQSxkOVcHA-yU2uDAVLrRbQiydUtUU_C6VPbc38y1vTtTjOQYJ0/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_8qBxsTmHTBP4AJ1eJ8uRCmPy1iLKdoBf3LNSMx6AgYu6qDjNOirF2-bPVC0Poh3SFMisiBkDyEvqfuz5rmQSxkOVcHA-yU2uDAVLrRbQiydUtUU_C6VPbc38y1vTtTjOQYJ0/s200/photo.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a>
When you step out on the beach this early, there's nothing but the sound of water. It spills, reaches, pulls as it clings to the shore. "Show me how to help my boy!!" I was reaching that morning. I just hadn't found anything from which to pull answers.
One year ago today, I sat on this beach and asked God for one thing. It's all I wanted; all I could think about. "Show me how to understand my son and how to help him. Please." Why God waited for that week to shine a tiny ray of light on a path of learning, is becoming clear. Had someone had just given me the answer up front, I wouldn't have believed it. Maybe not even followed through. It seems too simple. No medications. No therapy. Simple. This return to the beach marks a year of learning, of answers, of peace that comes from digging deeper and not giving up.
For two years, Jett had been complaining of discomforts we could not figure out. They were allusive, but their effects on him were quite direct. He would wake up happy one morning, but angry the next. He couldn't calm himself at night, lying awake long after our older kids were fast asleep. He was uncomfortable all the time. When a big event like a birthday approached, he would cry and ask, "Mom am I going to feel bad today? Everyone else will be having fun." I would cry with him because I just couldn't help him.
Looking back I can see when this started. He stopped taking naps at two. That's when the restlessness started. Little by little, the irritations set in and he became increasingly uncomfortable. I thought it was all in his head because if he were busy or having fun, he wouldn't complain. I'm ashamed to say I would get mad at him somethings because I thought he had rotten behavior. I would say to my husband, "He is so difficult." But he was a 6 year old boy who couldn't explain or fix his discomfort and it was affecting his mood, his interaction with others, his ability to focus on our homeschool lessons. That is the reason I am sharing this personal journey. It breaks my heart to recall my frustration with him. And I know there are other families right now wrestling with this very same thing. So I will type a little more throughout the week and share with you some insights that have helped me. Maybe they will help someone you know.girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-14050327500085102512012-01-29T19:40:00.000-08:002012-01-29T19:41:15.930-08:00The PathA 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-87886399322354575592012-01-19T06:47:00.000-08:002012-01-19T18:18:15.314-08:00Milking Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65iHeXids_5VPzpXM3nEVQlf8Nw3dNQ1SmZ1kL_GKPjUO9J9z2CxYXF5wrslfl3JmqXAAkTNgBhyphenhyphen2BKZAXImOJiZQmK4tAQDs0D6Y62v4xoCBRElqZ2OZKPh00ZMNZXtyz8iJ/s1600/IMG_8246_2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65iHeXids_5VPzpXM3nEVQlf8Nw3dNQ1SmZ1kL_GKPjUO9J9z2CxYXF5wrslfl3JmqXAAkTNgBhyphenhyphen2BKZAXImOJiZQmK4tAQDs0D6Y62v4xoCBRElqZ2OZKPh00ZMNZXtyz8iJ/s200/IMG_8246_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699520871645299330" border="0" /></a>"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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />As he calls <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnMJn_0vKT29CykrTDMRj_eD660vOBxI-feXYNHzwTCwFcBC3szoAffOXYzIuJltja8oatjmI9RN3E5x5FokqTCZvh12hRy5tQ2_NS3OptXxKJBazMwWuji427Db6unUEb5kZ/s1600/IMG_8370.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnMJn_0vKT29CykrTDMRj_eD660vOBxI-feXYNHzwTCwFcBC3szoAffOXYzIuJltja8oatjmI9RN3E5x5FokqTCZvh12hRy5tQ2_NS3OptXxKJBazMwWuji427Db6unUEb5kZ/s200/IMG_8370.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699520885383343922" border="0" /></a>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 comfor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Ht3VtA7l5FWl9UsjUm9bFutfUjNL6JbpW75lnyZqmPLS2H9vc8Q8q1-fAp8lNiJtHSR_bGzNr-srkOXWU-AO5ujYLwpe2pA8PIvlm49RwoK_m_OfUCiHGzkFofQAeTWxH7_y/s1600/IMG_8334.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Ht3VtA7l5FWl9UsjUm9bFutfUjNL6JbpW75lnyZqmPLS2H9vc8Q8q1-fAp8lNiJtHSR_bGzNr-srkOXWU-AO5ujYLwpe2pA8PIvlm49RwoK_m_OfUCiHGzkFofQAeTWxH7_y/s200/IMG_8334.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699526749943297186" border="0" /></a>table, 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.girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-11098809796388831522012-01-01T11:17:00.000-08:002012-01-01T11:50:52.753-08:00Needful Things<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihS3Z9dU8ws8zpe184kVW32DQt9dgF6_FXog1YKHf3pPMNIyUBbrb5gCBzKaQ9VN3icVi5qzZZA0Ozsaz4VuG7GMO3vSg1r0JcecFqutc5AqHeavgTUGWNQ9F8k1Y0moLGxlLB/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihS3Z9dU8ws8zpe184kVW32DQt9dgF6_FXog1YKHf3pPMNIyUBbrb5gCBzKaQ9VN3icVi5qzZZA0Ozsaz4VuG7GMO3vSg1r0JcecFqutc5AqHeavgTUGWNQ9F8k1Y0moLGxlLB/s200/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692752397564799986" border="0" /></a><br />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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-91641032199515510932011-12-31T07:21:00.000-08:002012-01-01T06:17:35.520-08:002011 In Pictures<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7Y1yhvFxwgHTrgGrW9i1lGlFCYfChE7R9XOiHIPW-dXQG57Pu3oamZaT9gK0BEqn4eaRxK30aABl8Nw1mF6CMBujBMpBTjDgVtZ_nLQzqiv-zeNjGTqMdjzlRy0t7_qdRgQ1/s1600/IMG_6503.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7Y1yhvFxwgHTrgGrW9i1lGlFCYfChE7R9XOiHIPW-dXQG57Pu3oamZaT9gK0BEqn4eaRxK30aABl8Nw1mF6CMBujBMpBTjDgVtZ_nLQzqiv-zeNjGTqMdjzlRy0t7_qdRgQ1/s200/IMG_6503.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692323515185329090" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevvmOxy_cgXrHeI-GpVnVwl3WxiUW4KF575KASDUwYCfCQilBOPuW0vohNTGRmRH3wluVQF6miGDjei0XRsAulW3V_7onpuT6FLlewsW1XgNV8RGZx59vnDsc1Z2op4A5nEEt/s1600/IMG_6488.jpg"><img style="float:left; 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margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 153px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZ5K8oBOudRvR6kr1GZ0YzipAKcdJx3FAd7_wloSRf6hC9qxvVYn6xdiHzwQgRWw-WOQd_ksy1bdqyCNLkh1hQ1FJZWOqm5LBkilC767-5jrmfKeYF0aswGS5VoJi6d8Gf3xl/s200/Qh8Qwl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692667243129113106" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7Nghn207sLPO2dkmRoUMvuAxzfnsjSunw6VbOxObfbv6FDXjhST-sqnIv2uUEet3DJQvbmUiNISI7sTloUjXFolWhhPgrLQAFk8T6TSegw8aHfi17dtrTreHy9ewimLrJhVi/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7Nghn207sLPO2dkmRoUMvuAxzfnsjSunw6VbOxObfbv6FDXjhST-sqnIv2uUEet3DJQvbmUiNISI7sTloUjXFolWhhPgrLQAFk8T6TSegw8aHfi17dtrTreHy9ewimLrJhVi/s200/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692317524917725010" border="0" /></a>girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-24139032282768877732011-09-19T06:30:00.000-07:002011-09-19T07:04:56.980-07:00My Frosting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCe43o0Od2jhyphenhyphen2R7smeKDIYHl65Jt8kVJa6HwLLsrg3vCY_7iH3jnoBWsDECluUEbjgcKaDGd6de_BJCMFX4dGY6t1HHQMVer8TDdV2s19nA4_cK59GnUoez1I0o7m9yr5Em5/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCe43o0Od2jhyphenhyphen2R7smeKDIYHl65Jt8kVJa6HwLLsrg3vCY_7iH3jnoBWsDECluUEbjgcKaDGd6de_BJCMFX4dGY6t1HHQMVer8TDdV2s19nA4_cK59GnUoez1I0o7m9yr5Em5/s200/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654062719120447042" border="0" /></a><br />What if imagination and art are not frosting, but the fountainhead of human existence? My friend <a href="http://meghanarias.blogspot.com/">Megan</a> tweeted this quote after seeing a piece of <a href="http://instagr.am/p/NE0f-/">ar</a><a href="http://instagr.am/p/NE0f-/">t</a> bearing it. I find it quite validating because I thrive on stolen moments when I can exercise a little creative expression.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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!girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-60168639473913883822011-09-05T18:06:00.000-07:002011-09-05T18:35:51.230-07:00Intentional FriendshipThree 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.
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<br />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.
<br />girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-78308203961061253872011-01-22T17:23:00.000-08:002011-01-22T20:30:36.277-08:00Meet the MilkmanI 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.<br /><br />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.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidTTutRRRy5Z89u9sOhOOdzUBagyTEeXwnCTMn8LyrdDc0IpFmMMq1p1Knjpow5Qzi4LFXdRSoxa1zehFryvQCRf2DVqIGv5ugOXuGeKMDXRoXYTIb-uVy_Yav9v32THW3l2PQ/s1600/IMG_3513.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidTTutRRRy5Z89u9sOhOOdzUBagyTEeXwnCTMn8LyrdDc0IpFmMMq1p1Knjpow5Qzi4LFXdRSoxa1zehFryvQCRf2DVqIGv5ugOXuGeKMDXRoXYTIb-uVy_Yav9v32THW3l2PQ/s200/IMG_3513.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565229255434783282" border="0" /></a><br />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.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqWyviBhO6yWHjntgssbaqqgxbnkqESqE-MHI-dzvcB8no1vJKGlbfwyiP0UYhGRoFSW1T4p5J-MUs6LgSaaz48iuftZgW0ebqva8zhPFHOe-FIptDq88usEE_Og_J6e2CT_cb/s1600/IMG_4846.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqWyviBhO6yWHjntgssbaqqgxbnkqESqE-MHI-dzvcB8no1vJKGlbfwyiP0UYhGRoFSW1T4p5J-MUs6LgSaaz48iuftZgW0ebqva8zhPFHOe-FIptDq88usEE_Og_J6e2CT_cb/s200/IMG_4846.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565227944254177154" border="0" /></a>girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-52236083649012642912011-01-06T06:13:00.000-08:002011-01-06T07:00:32.995-08:00EpiphanyWe celebrate our first year as farmers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWvr-jJV0ks1ywDBnl4fivBTOJ23qYQuTRcDgi-JWYMuULPlrf_TYBB0o0u-8W4uHjbNZM7ZSMkgqROVvj8i4uJs1PpOXck9Z8b7-tllRHMIqheauCmeKwuZmJg4kYZY8r1hd/s1600/IMG_5782.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 100px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWvr-jJV0ks1ywDBnl4fivBTOJ23qYQuTRcDgi-JWYMuULPlrf_TYBB0o0u-8W4uHjbNZM7ZSMkgqROVvj8i4uJs1PpOXck9Z8b7-tllRHMIqheauCmeKwuZmJg4kYZY8r1hd/s200/IMG_5782.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559083919032749714" border="0" /></a><br /> My oldest says it's been the best year of his life. And I would have to agree.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL_o0_H3qAxK3BkyDQyTBU0hq_qaAIAOxpgH237DkjgTs5d4Ht-cpHlcjKEUPTuduggouY5iFLWvrYK0n4jfJVTPFhyHg1uvWBaSXN-zkMvVxKNppsrO6uZhCfQ9eQM06gfoV/s1600/IMG_4779.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL_o0_H3qAxK3BkyDQyTBU0hq_qaAIAOxpgH237DkjgTs5d4Ht-cpHlcjKEUPTuduggouY5iFLWvrYK0n4jfJVTPFhyHg1uvWBaSXN-zkMvVxKNppsrO6uZhCfQ9eQM06gfoV/s200/IMG_4779.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559078237137654162" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtgxjwvoH9PCl8p2lAY1LuKkmMVrE5CGi3lqz-DRX2Ulk3ebjneC-Pt9LOCS-_m67sKn4yIqdajQnkijM2QNij9v8ouBOl9sE6LJUhnYYzFNQwIIFnhRJ6KkuZSzQBuQriPt8/s1600/IMG_5876.jpg"><br /></a><br /> We are on the road to simplicity.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0n1etsawc5t7ASRK7TRInkZJQ69oBUQeDbipDEzluMdCvDxZiDADD7U6ff2uuzekmI1AsrOlkSrpb_SOa2rOf5wm8jOjdDHEkFIKHREyck_itMtCs3HxJGqflGthF8_cVgs15/s1600/IMG_4671.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0n1etsawc5t7ASRK7TRInkZJQ69oBUQeDbipDEzluMdCvDxZiDADD7U6ff2uuzekmI1AsrOlkSrpb_SOa2rOf5wm8jOjdDHEkFIKHREyck_itMtCs3HxJGqflGthF8_cVgs15/s200/IMG_4671.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559079809597850146" border="0" /></a> <br /> I am learning simplicity through the eyes of a chicken.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OeEWLqk6k-2VfIZrxHLyPI5EQ_bSoGIQgFFFZPmuqqy4a3F_ru31Z0jenr-7JJstnLo9MqnjPI_TrWsZrIECy1CcfCwhf0Becie8SlODTUlaaRPSsQ4jighYEgROftB0GNnb/s1600/IMG_4568.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OeEWLqk6k-2VfIZrxHLyPI5EQ_bSoGIQgFFFZPmuqqy4a3F_ru31Z0jenr-7JJstnLo9MqnjPI_TrWsZrIECy1CcfCwhf0Becie8SlODTUlaaRPSsQ4jighYEgROftB0GNnb/s200/IMG_4568.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559086999544168610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> My parents finally moved to the country with us.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdzLEGbUP0ihQNeI_zj_iDcuGoFfWixkc8UxADaZd37Y3q43ItVXO6TBxmWmHaijt95RPyAbYvJ7ae0Z2o8qJGVoRB5b0nPgWJIcfW_By1oKCkDxvb36rcWermnmTjDVCUwab/s1600/IMG_6241.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdzLEGbUP0ihQNeI_zj_iDcuGoFfWixkc8UxADaZd37Y3q43ItVXO6TBxmWmHaijt95RPyAbYvJ7ae0Z2o8qJGVoRB5b0nPgWJIcfW_By1oKCkDxvb36rcWermnmTjDVCUwab/s200/IMG_6241.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559078877331293842" border="0" /></a><br />Thanks to God's grace and this great guy in the yellow shirt. I am living out a life long dream.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9ErBjxnDyWmKefm6_RLIQKnpxXRAxnvPrVNKzeQ4ny_hD5TW-30yZ4ajWzTLJZTcSlV0XsJjgKcks7CC3cmbLipfb7CkRKOJZlOghYdekKxsfhFsmhyphenhyphenw4hCv1TViUTw6eilM/s1600/IMG_5876.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9ErBjxnDyWmKefm6_RLIQKnpxXRAxnvPrVNKzeQ4ny_hD5TW-30yZ4ajWzTLJZTcSlV0XsJjgKcks7CC3cmbLipfb7CkRKOJZlOghYdekKxsfhFsmhyphenhyphenw4hCv1TViUTw6eilM/s200/IMG_5876.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559085008974408178" border="0" /></a><br /> Happy Epiphany and Happy 2011!girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-46955224191035397772011-01-02T13:19:00.000-08:002011-01-02T14:13:54.882-08:00More on ListeningCapturing my thoughts has been like trying to catch that piece of paper that escapes when you open your car door. You really need it. But you don't want to look like an idiot running around the parking lot grasping for it.<br /><br />I've had a difficult time with words this past year. So I was thinking...maybe God just wanted me to listen in 2010. Today it hit me. That wasn't listening. That was just prep time. God has been getting me ready to listen. My life has changed much in a year. Distractions have been removed. My life has slowed down. Things are more simple.<br /><br />Remember how Zechariah heard the very voice of God in the temple? He knew his son was a prophet. He knew the Messiah was on the way. But he was not allowed to tell any of it. Can you imagine the pressure that was taken off Zechariah? He didn't have to run tell the world. He couldn't. So he just listened. I bet he heard more in that 9 months than he did his whole life!<br /><br />God is teaching me to resist the urge to respond with my mouth so I can learn to listen with my heart. And it took me a year to even see what He is doing.girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-70797613704024716002011-01-01T20:23:00.000-08:002011-01-01T21:28:16.109-08:00Words For A New YearListening. That is how I spent New Year's Day. Constant rain has kept me indoors most of the day. But it's just as well. It is easier to listen this way. Instead of making lists of things I want to do in the coming year but won't, I have asked for direction. I am waiting...With my crisp clean calendar at arm's length and pen poised.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ornrih6QKfc9bVYD6fDuNO4x0Z2FhFORoxhDa9WomKDbFa2QlCTP990NAogA_b_YttEjB-UcoPmLuXLIbQHpVg9v8FiwS3bOFKsOivDr754VIgbhIJlRPN8Fajt_eOxMYfzB/s1600/IMG_5084.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ornrih6QKfc9bVYD6fDuNO4x0Z2FhFORoxhDa9WomKDbFa2QlCTP990NAogA_b_YttEjB-UcoPmLuXLIbQHpVg9v8FiwS3bOFKsOivDr754VIgbhIJlRPN8Fajt_eOxMYfzB/s200/IMG_5084.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557455475789606482" border="0" /></a><br />And this is what I hear: Only one thing is needful. So I keep listening.<br /><br />I have a high pressure job. A lot of people depend on me. I want to get it right. What should I teach them, read to them, play with them? Ah, he says, "It's not so much what you say, but how you say it."<br /><br />So we are working on my words again this year? "Yes," He says, "we will work on them until you get them right."<br /><br />In the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Final-Quest-Rick-Joyner/dp/192937190X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1293945670&sr=1-1">book</a> I am reading today, I stopped to contemplate this: In all your endeavors, remember that the importance of a single word from God to man is of more value than all the treasures of earth. And respect the value of your own words. Those who carry the truth must be true. To be entrusted with God's Word is to be entrusted with the power by which the universe is held together.girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-3741192528427545922010-08-09T06:15:00.000-07:002010-08-09T07:47:31.041-07:00Fight for Your Right to SimplifyI am stretched so thin that I can feel my skin splitting. OK, that's just gross. Let me start with this. When I was a kid, my little brother had a toy called Stretch Armstrong. You could pull him, stomp him, bend him into unnatural shapes and he was pretty tough. But after too much abuse, the goo would start to leak out of him. That is how I feel. I am loosing goo. I guess that is gross too. But there is no pretty color to paint exhaustion.<br />This farm has moved me to a place of simplicity I had longed for but thought unrealistic. Now I know it can be done and I am not going to give up so easily. I was living my life at a slower pace, cooking from scratch, gardening, meandering through chicken coop, picking fresh blueberries for crying out loud! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tHkP91SEct3W_BgFREo8HuLBglQjbcUWf5oEbVCZCjmMVqq-zyVOkNn8d4WZZrt-Z5Ah-tOxeHWyvaBGGzELUNfqPCOvycmwBgOWjw_MPp9Gsi02UHx2oFYOlbmiYb1t8SRJ/s1600/IMG_3606.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tHkP91SEct3W_BgFREo8HuLBglQjbcUWf5oEbVCZCjmMVqq-zyVOkNn8d4WZZrt-Z5Ah-tOxeHWyvaBGGzELUNfqPCOvycmwBgOWjw_MPp9Gsi02UHx2oFYOlbmiYb1t8SRJ/s200/IMG_3606.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503421193264290946" border="0" /></a>Then I got what I asked for: our house in Atlanta sold in two weeks! But we weren't finished building onto this house. Rush set in as I had to finish painting 1,700 sq. ft. here and help my parents move from there. Suddenly the kids were fixing their own breakfasts and lunches as I "went to work." I sanded, painted, packed, garage saled. For two weeks we had 8 people and all their stuff crammed into a tiny house with two bedrooms and a loft.<br /><br />We doubled the size of the house and only added two people. You would think we'd have plenty of space to organize. But instead it looks like a bomb went off in here. Everywhere I turn there is stuff, stuff, stuff. It's pouring off tables and benches! People are asking me where stuff is and where stuff goes. I want to escape. But I have to finish what I started. My simplicity is under here somewhere!<br /><br />I felt immobile last week. So this week my goal is to whip it all into shape so I can get back to being a farmgirl. It's time to start the homeschool year, replant the garden for a fall crop and eliminate whatever is eating my chickens! Doesn't that sound more fun than being stressed and overworked?girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-26211834196566237022010-07-22T03:25:00.000-07:002010-07-22T04:23:44.597-07:00I Can't Do It All<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuvh8AQ-VJ7JOpyuDqDzWfsO3Sneul0TdjShSSWZWFk9yT-j34vwvvubN0UFEUn7dWb55YJI5f6rCbdodPPWDsq9SCw8HH7VsZbuX1czz3ta89yq7rHrLkan_fffsTqy4EY4m/s1600/IMG_3811.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuvh8AQ-VJ7JOpyuDqDzWfsO3Sneul0TdjShSSWZWFk9yT-j34vwvvubN0UFEUn7dWb55YJI5f6rCbdodPPWDsq9SCw8HH7VsZbuX1czz3ta89yq7rHrLkan_fffsTqy4EY4m/s200/IMG_3811.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496675007044701378" border="0" /></a>I never thought physical labor would be so appealing. I like to read and sew and eat. But this summer I have learned something...Farms don't look good all by themselves. And the more I sweat, the better I feel. This week after working outside a full 7 hours through heat, rain, storms and more heat, I stopped to ponder the sheer joy I feel to be living in this place. There they hung, like ribbons dangling down to touch my face and draw my attention to the One who gave me this gift. How powerful an image when you know the original intent of that first rainbow.<br /><br />So today I will go out there again and try to undo the mess my inattentiveness to my garden has created. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJivYIQAPy6b-mRIY7Az7YymGdKpQ0YmUWxKl914-h3xivC3rEypIQMjHpzA5GNQFOUSKBI5YcGBPWGgLiKxTfNILmfKwC3VxKUG8ZQu62qXMvFHv3ueo2r8oaQQnspkfg5mB/s1600/IMG_3774.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJivYIQAPy6b-mRIY7Az7YymGdKpQ0YmUWxKl914-h3xivC3rEypIQMjHpzA5GNQFOUSKBI5YcGBPWGgLiKxTfNILmfKwC3VxKUG8ZQu62qXMvFHv3ueo2r8oaQQnspkfg5mB/s200/IMG_3774.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496687342016566594" border="0" /></a> But I am not lazy. I swear! My attentions have been turned elsewhere, equally as important. Yet somehow while I am working so hard on one area, another one spreads out of control. The perfectionist in me tries to beat up the naturalist who wants to sit back and take in every sunset. I will not be bullied. I am learning as I go. Today I will battle beetles and weeds and tonight I will rest knowing I have done all I can do.girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27398302.post-1854281458460923632010-06-11T06:15:00.000-07:002010-06-11T06:41:24.324-07:00What Hasn't ChangedNo one in this family likes to get up early. You'd think I would get up early to feed the 40 animals or work in the garden before the sun spreads it's heat. No thank you! The animals have adjusted to our schedule and I just put on sunblock and challenge those rays in the middle of the day. The problem is, it is so fun out here in the evening that everyone wants to be outside until the sun goes down. Then we go to bed late and exhausted. Thus, we sleep a little later than the average farmer. It will be interesting to see if this changes the longer we do this.<br /><br />I'm still unorganized. I still start new projects before I finish others. I still love to read lots of books at the same time. And I still get irritable when people aren't doing what I say when I say. But I am working on that one!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTbYy5T-2wMHD3QMTAdsHBT7qoWLnTAokCw82TIO-yYdBqbpLEyeD2jHtVvbBK3lFTqa8d3nPMo-F02czI7UWLeiTyOX1xcjE-vV_72lpfg1r8otsJ-rXhY8aibsYQHezCcrva/s1600/IMG_5353.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTbYy5T-2wMHD3QMTAdsHBT7qoWLnTAokCw82TIO-yYdBqbpLEyeD2jHtVvbBK3lFTqa8d3nPMo-F02czI7UWLeiTyOX1xcjE-vV_72lpfg1r8otsJ-rXhY8aibsYQHezCcrva/s200/IMG_5353.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481509774383691778" border="0" /></a>girl on a roofhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16617569327345717504noreply@blogger.com3