of moose and marigolds

The timing could not have been more perfect. We had been sitting out back last week talking about our zoning and our place and the plans I once had for my life, how they overlap and where they depart from how life actually played out.  We talked about the possibility of doing more urban homesteading.  As we talked about this I occasionally glanced down at the withering marigold seedling that had been fighting a losing battle in the shiny blue pot that sat between us. 

There are goats at the farm way down below us.  Their bleating can be heard in the early morning and late evenings.  The rooster's crow echoes up the mountainside before dawn. (4:50am thankyouverymuch)  It reminds me of the different farms we have lived on and that agrarian spirit in me stirs and thinks, "We could put up a small coop. We could build some grow boxes. Get bee hives.  We could…."

We could.  

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This morning I was grinding the coffee beans when I caught something moving outside in the corner of my eye.  Sure enough, first moose sighting of the year. We stood face to face for just a moment before it wandered off to hang out near our neighbors' flagpole. 

We could homestead some again - plant things, milk animals.  Moose won't be passing through if we fence ourselves in up here though.  And those plants and livestock wouldn't tend themselves while we tagged along on business trips or sat at ballgames or cared for sick relatives and friends or planned weddings or remodeled basements or go to swimming lessons – all things that currently take up the better part of my waking hours.  The plants I am in charge of often go the way of the marigold. Often. Very often. The little animals might not fare much better living here on the cusp of mountain and city where hawks circle overhead and deer nibble at the trees and shrubs.

Reality. I come to it reluctantly very often, often only after much wrestling.  I know this and know it well: you can have it all (ok, not really 'all' though you can have many different experiences in life) just not at the same time.

 

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God knew better than I where we would thrive and what place fit the life He was planning and the things He would be asking of us.  This visit reminds me it is still wild and so very beautiful. 

Patriotic Tablescape – Dollar Store DIY

 

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While hunting for some patriotic ideas for our main dining table (ie the workhouse we use three times a day) I had been both inspired at Pier 1 and then quickly discouraged by the sticker shock.  My friend Rebecca suggested I hit up The Dollar Tree where I often find a few useful items but this time scored a whole tabletop for the summer patriotic holidays. 

We already had the blue plates from there which have held up pretty well for daily banging around. ($1 each)  I picked up the placemats, a pack of red napkins and flatware. My assistant used them to fill the IKEA glasses.

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Pinterest had me drooling over these beautiful arrangements.  This is a particularly thrifty month however.  While at the dollar store my oldest daughter and I pulled up the picture on my phone and gathered a collection of reasonably similar silk flowers. (there are several flowers on each $1 bunch)  We had found the chunky square vase at the thrift store some months back.  It wasn't quite as cobalt as the inpiration picture so I also grabbed some glass filler beads to toss in.  (Athlete son's PT has him doing foot strengthening exercises manipulating marbles so it's all going to be used lol) 

The flags came in a bundle of 3 for a dollar.  They are too large for my taste but we will keep an eye out for smaller ones before the 4th. 

May 2016 patriotic table web (3 of 3)

Happy Memorial Day to you and yours.  May we never forget. 

Prayer

(story of the above poem here)

beautiful ordinary – morning

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"What I am doing is wrestling with my own sin that lures me into thinking that if my work and daily life isn’t considered amazing, or isn’t recognized, then it isn’t important.

And so I’m learning to practice the beauty of ordinariness through things like patiently brushing my daughter’s hair, thoughtfully completing a year-end report that no one may read, responding to emails that may not necessitate a response, holding a sick child, weeding my garden, listening – really listening – to a colleague, and working through spelling words with my first grader.

These are ordinary things that I feel a deep sense of calling to, a calling that necessitates faithfulness to each and every one of them…"    more here

These words resonated with me.  Maybe it's human nature.  Maybe as my dear friend says it is the on-stage aspect of our lives today. Maybe it's just the age-old message driven into our heads that only things with invoices and price tags are of high caliber, products and services that can be marketed and rated. However it happens, the temptation is to think the hidden, daily, private things are somehow of less value.  You know the whole if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there and all.  

There are people here though.  They compose a small, but significant, audience and even when they are scattered here and there an audience of one good God remains behind, noticing the care put into every chore and project, no matter how mundane.

The older I get the greater the peace there is in hidden work and unrecorded exchanges. Ordinary, but beautiful. 

 

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in exchange

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It was during a lesson about dividing fractions that I noticed something peeking out from under his cuff. He sheepishly rolled his sleeve up and a silly grin spread across his face.  

And mine. 

“What it's like to be a parent: It's one of the hardest things you'll ever do but in exchange it teaches you the meaning of unconditional love.”

The Wedding

Good reads: Boxes for Katje

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A favorite this week was Boxes for Katje about a penpal relationship between a Dutch and American family in postwar Netherlands. It really drives home how easy it is to bless people that cross our paths and reminds us that many people go without things we take for granted.

Since sometimes people are curious about simple ways we extend our reading here are some things we did:

found the Netherlands and Indiana on the map

talk about wooden shoes like in the pics 

note the mailman's bicycle instead of our mail truck (and Dutch bicycles here)

follow the life cycle of a tulip in the last pages 

review parts of a personal letter and how to address an envelope

 

All off the cuff, no elaborate manuals or standards. We just noticed those things in the book that relate to things they study otherwise. 

from grass stained sleeves


April 2016 dandelions web (1 of 1)

“Passion is lifted from the earth itself by the muddy hands of the young; it travels along grass-stained sleeves to the heart."

Last Child in the Woods

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After a long day in the car but before unpacking the suitcases their Dad suggested we go outside and walk as far as we could before sunset.  He and Brendan slowed down to throw the football back and forth.  Abbie skipped over to a patch of dandelions, grabbing as many as she could. 

By the time we got back to our hotel room all the cobwebs were blown out along with those seed heads. Everyone was finally ready to curl up under the blankets for the night.  

And I am finally working through the Last Child in the Woods, thinking of all the places to explore this summer. There are going to be lots of evenings like this, God willing. 

April 2016 dandelions web (1 of 1)-2
 

A Place of Refuge

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A welcoming home is a place of refuge, a place where people worn down by the noise and turmoil and hostility of the outside world can find a safe resting place.  A welcoming home is a place that you and others enjoy coming home to. 

If you live in a house with small children you may already be shaking your head. "What do you mean, 'noise and turmoil of the outside world?'  I have to leave home to get away from noise and turmoil!"

But even in the rough and tumble of family living, home can be a safe haven and even a place of quiet (at least some of the time). And especially if noise and activity crowd your life making the extra effort to create a sense of refuge in the midst of it can pay off wonderful dividends. 

Besides, a refuge is not a hole where you disappear to eat and sleep and then emerge to go about the business of life. A welcoming home is where real life happens.  It's where personalities are nurtured, where growth is stimulated, where people feel free not only to be themselves but to develop their best selves.  That caring, nurturing quality – not the absence of noise or strife – is what makes a home a refuge. 

A Spirit of Loveliness

Emilie's words have guided my vision of home for 30 years and helped me to understand that this refuge could be created in a cinder block, multi-family, government unit just as well as in a Georgian farmhouse.  It was more about your purpose for your house than the house itself – how it was used, why you were there, and how you emerged from it, for better or worse. 

Regardless of where you spend your days, we all go "home" eventually.  It is worth the effort to consider what steps we can take to make it a place we long to return to, a true refueling station, a place from which we can launch our best and strongest selves, and a place where we can return to and integrate all those fascinating experiences we have other places. 

 

* photograph from a welcoming old home turned inn where we stayed last month

 

Pax

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The motto was "Pax" but the word was set in a circle of thorns.

Pax: Peace, but what a strange peace, made of unremitting toil and effort – seldom with a seen result: subject to constant interruptions, unexpected demands, short sleep at nights, little comfort, sometimes scarce food: beset with disappointments and usually misunderstood,

yet peace all the same, undeviating,  filled with joy and gratitude and love.

"It is My own peace I give you."     Not, notice, the world's peace. 

In This House of Brede

These opening lines in Rumor Godden's classic relate to cloistered nuns…or do they?  

What a strange peace it is indeed, yes? But so very true.