per Abbie, our MVP:

First, hike up your diaper. Self explanatory.

Line up.

Hut…hut…hike!

Run down the field and ……

Catch! 

I walk through the now-emtpy barn, stepping over discarded feed buckets.  My hands run across the knots in the wood beams and my thoughts wander.  Last year this time, like many years before it, we ran through the doors chased by biting spring winds to check on goat kids.  We toted bottles of warm milk back out into the night to be strained and cooled for breakfast.  

The goats are tucked into stalls in another barn half an hour to the north tonight, another homesteading family tending them and loving their babies. It is all good.  They are well and we are nearly ready to leave here.  This is our last spring on the ranch.  

In many ways it is a relief. We worked very hard here.  We invested a great deal. We sucked every drop of joy out of this place we possibly could. Still we knew we were not prepared for this to be the last adventure we were going to have. So we are ready to go, but tonight I linger a while  in the silence and brush away a stray tear.  

I understand now that this farm was as much about my past as my present and why it was so important to me to hang on to it tightly.  All the happy and stable and good in my early life happened on a farm not so different from this one.  I spent my adult years just holding on 'til I could recreate that place which was heaven itself to me for so many years.  

As a child I would escape to the lower level of my grandparents  barn and breathe deeply of its earthy peace, anchoring myself within the whitewashed foundation.  I watched as steam wafted  up and away from the horses' nostrils on those bitter cold nights. The only sound to be heard, the gentle crunching of hay and the occasional, sleepy shift of their weight.  In time my own breathing slowed, matching theirs, and all was well again.  

The night we arrived here I walked into the old barn, which has stood on this bare prairie since the 40's, long before the house.  I inhaled the lingering scent of musty hay and the sticky sweet feed bags left behind and my whole being sang out with joy.  I was home. 

There would be many nights like this over the years, but in time I have come learn a secret.  That quiet was always there for me inside.  It could be mine in a Midwest farm, on a glitzy downtown street, or while riding in a plane across the ocean. (there's a hint ; )) While I still believe in the power of place, I have become even more convinced of the power of a God who commands us to be still, wherever we find ourselves and to experience the wonder that is our present moment.  He is teaching me to do that and it is beautiful. 

This is my Grandma's legacy.  She did not leave me dependent upon a place, holding desperately to a memory, but rather she left me with the ability to embrace the future and all its glorious uncertainty.  She left me a 'Yes I can' outlook.  Wherever we go from here I will take this slow breath with me. There are many places to love after all if we can slow down and notice.  But I suspect that on quiet nights like this my thoughts will return to potted violets on a farmhouse windowsill and a wheelbarrow rolling down the barn aisle.  I will remember a cat sunning itself where the sun falls on the dirt floor and I will smile. 

Thank you Gram.  And thank you Allen, for giving me the time I needed here to be whole again.  I am ready now.  I just had to find out why I came here to realize it was ok to go. 

Bear with me, because this story is beginning where all kooky tales start – in the middle.  There is a reason for this.  Our current journey would have been completely impossible any other way.  How else do I explain who this woman is signing my name, gazing back at me from my mirror, and yet doing totally unexpected things?  I could give you the punch line and many of you would never question it.  Those of you who know me better are going to recognize right away that I am not who I was. For you, and those like me, I going to tell you a little bit about what happens when God moves a mountain.  

The bible is full of one liners which we quote freely and rarely think about too deeply. I sat looking at the peak a while back thinking about just that.   The mountain is massive from any angle. It rises up from the dry prairie into the clouds and there is no missing it from miles and miles away.  Clinging to its base are clusters of houses and  small communities.  

The whole metaphor struck me that day.  If that mountain moved, a whole lot in the foothills would be disturbed.  So it is in life. When God moves a mountain it doesn't usually just vanish neatly one day.  It is messy around the edges where the roots lie exposed and foundations are shaken. Things you hadn't realized were connected are disrupted. There is a whole new horizon.  You no longer scale its craggy heights or journey all the way around through its canyons. You just move on through.  It takes time to accustom yourself to its absence and this new way of doing things. 

My mountain was fear and has been a landmark in my life as long as I can remember. Not a conscious choice, but embedded early on.  I had arranged a lot so as to work around it. I was convinced it was pretty well contained and off in the distance but the truth is that it was an imposing barrier blocking us from much opportunity, despite the fact that it was totally inconsistent with my larger view of life.  Then a number of things happened very quickly and the mountain started to quiver.  I found myself waking as a slightly different person each morning and it has taken us all some getting used to.  

Most people are familiar with Frank Gilbreth's Cheaper by the Dozen.  The glimpse into his family which has long stuck with me came from the sequel to that book, Belles on their Toes, which doesn't extend the story so much as fills it in.  His description of his mother after their father died made a big impression, and was oddly one of the things that came to my mind last fall when things began to change:

"There was a change in Mother after Dad died. A change in looks and a change in manners. . . .

While Dad lived, Mother was afraid of fast driving, of airplanes, of walking alone at night. When there was lighting, she went in a dark closet and held her ears …

Now, suddenly, she wasn’t afraid any more, because there was nothing to be afraid of. Now nothing could ever upset her because the thing that mattered most had been upset. None of us ever saw her weep again."

I thought of her often and how that transformation took place.  This was not a weak incompetent woman.  She was well-educated, accomplished, and strong enough to bear a dozen children naturally and raise them up admirably. Yet she was brought to her knees with terror nonetheless.  She always had my sincere empathy. 

When my grandmother died, some of my 'things that mattered most' were upset. Instead of falling apart, however, it became the first step to healing.  It feels too new some days to say 'never again' and perhaps that is part of my hesitation to proclaim over-boldly. I am still getting to know the me I am becoming and writing about this person feels awkward at times. But I like her.  I am proud of her. And I will get this all out as I am able to.  

"Behold….I make all things new."  Rev 21:5

That is what came to mind when I thought about how to break my blog fast.  It best sums up what is happening here.  We are ending lent by beginning an entirely new life which will very shortly look tremendously different from the one which has been shared here over the years.  The prospect has been exhilarating, challenging, and not a little bit terrifying depending on when you ask me. ; )  

In short, we are embarking on what may be our biggest adventure yet – so big I truly have been unable to bring myself to write about it all this time. God is doing a big work and life is taking a big turn.  If there is anyone left out there who cares to join us on this journey, strap yourself in now.  It's promises to be a wild ride lol! 

I hope your springtime is ushering in new hope and new challenges as well.  Praise be to the God of new beginnings.

1.

Started the day with husband arms wrapped around me and tiny girl curled up in my own.  It is going to be a very good day. 

2.

This study on the significant rise in myopia over the past thirty years was in the Parade section of the paper last Sunday.  Some suggest that:

  "Societal trends may be
playing a part. Far more children today grow up in front of computers
rather than on baseball fields; instead of tracking down balls hit from
afar or seeking out each other in sprawling city parks, they're
following the movements of a cursor only a foot or so from their eyes.
Such early activities, Vitale said, shape visual acuity."

You know what that means don't you?  Dr Raymond Moore and other 'better late than early' camps may just have it right after all.  It is a shame Dr Moore is not with us yet to see his theories proven correct. The rest of us ought to take note.  Backing away from the computer is not enough.  Time spent using our distance vision is more important.  

Short answer?  

Go outside. This is good. : )  

3.

"Photography is a foreign language everyone thinks he speaks," once commented Philip-Lorca diCorcia. If you are interested in becoming truly fluent these tutorials are a good place to start:

Kaboom

SmugMug help

Digital Photography School - sign up for the weekend challenge mailing!

4.

Thought about this verse this week:

"…to be sensible, pure, workers at home, kind, being subject to their own husbands, so that the word of God will not be dishonored."  Titus 2:5  

We tend to disregard verses that we have heard a thousand times but I think this bears a second look.  Do you have a question about curriculum? About home management? About childrearing? The answers are not here nor inside this screen anyplace. They are only to be found on your knees, in your home, with your family.  As one mom lamented, before she truly took this verse to heart she was constantly telling her kids "Just a minute" while she sat at the screen "looking into all the world" for the answers to her questions.  : / 

There is merit to the idea of letting information 'rest'. God knew what He was doing when He gave us all this work to do. It provides good respite from over-thinking and keeps us busy in our own homes with the work He gave to us, which is where our focus ought to be. The unexpected result of diverting our attention back to manual labor is that often when we return to the question at hand the answer is often very clear. If not, and we are blessed to have one, husbands have an uncanny knack for discerning the answers right quick. Other moms, no matter how seasoned,  have not been given the grace to make decisions for our family.  And vice versa.

And vice versa. 

Your way is probably the right way, as Anna of Pleasant View Schoolhouse says. At least this is what I have thought this week. 

5.

Birds of a feather, flock together, right below my kitchen window. Looked out the other day and there were dozens of um, whatever these are. Theresa? Macbeth?? One of you must know. I caught them just before they noticed me and took off all at once as a group. And look, you can't really tell how spotted up my window is either.  Cool. 

6.

A very funny video for you married types.  HT Joanna from FB ; )   I laughed hard.  Laughing is good. But you may have the chorus running through your head for days.  Its like that lol. 

7.

It is Valentine's Day Sunday. A very good day to review what love is.  Our friends and Aidan's Godparents Ann and Mike were teaching catechism class for second graders many years ago.  The director insisted they must create and post a set of classroom rules.  They were puzzled at first and then settled on a poster board with verses from 1 Corinthians 13 .  Ann related that after rereading this passage it pretty much covered anything that might arise.  Love is patient, therefore we can wait our turn – wait for the bathroom – wait.  Love does not boast, even when one does something much cooler than one's neighbor, nor is it jealous when tables are turned.  Love does not insist on its own way, even when that way seems exceptional. It does not delight in evil.  We do not relish seeing our neighbor fall. It keeps no record of wrongs.  Messed over?  It happens.  Let it go. Irritable?  Don't be. 

Yes, Ann and Mike were onto something.  I always said I was going to copy down the whole passage and use it as our primary character training tool – for myself first.  The older I get the more wisdom I see here.  For Valentine's Day the best gift I can think of is to really REALLY think hard on this definition of love and see how I am measuring up and what needs improvement. Heaven knows there is room for improvement. Heaven always knows. 

1 Corinthians 13:1-13