Uncategorized
- Life Goes On, Life on the Farm, notes from the farm, Spiritual Disciplines, The Presence of God, Uncategorized
“Come”
” Come.” You are calling out to me, Jesus, “Come.” How often I have heard it in the recesses of my mind. “Come.” But it doesn’t ring out above the other voices, those loud and demanding voices. Yours is soft and gentle, and I have to stop and listen carefully to hear it: “Come.” Instead, I listen to the call that demands productivity: “Get it done, now.” Rather than lying in bed and listening to that still, small voice first thing in the morning, I sleep in until Judd awakes, and then dash to get dressed, make the bed, and get the coffee pot going. And you say “Come.”…
- Bethlehem Revisited, gifts,giving,thankful,, Life on the Farm, Prayer Walk, The Gift of Community, Uncategorized
“Wokeness” on Kitten Creek
The weather in Kansas can be fickle. Countless times this year, we have watched the threatening clouds bear down on Kitten Creek and then watch in amazement as the storm circles left or to the right and totally misses us. Sooner or later, though, we get the storms. So we prepare. Presently, we are watching the threatening thunderstorms forming in our larger, cultural surroundings. We are not naive. Inevitable cultural pressure is coming (and presently seeping) into the area that surrounds our community. We are preparing. One of the storms forming around us is a “woke” culture, filled with judgment for anyone who is not “woke.” What does a “woke…
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Hope and Peace
I am a naturally hopeful person, but sometimes it becomes difficult for any thing but supernatural help.
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COVID Confusion?
I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. Sunday morning and it is seven-fifteen. The alarm should have gone off. I jumped (or rolled) out of bed and quickly donned my clothes. Although we are now watching church on-line during the COVID era, Sunday is special. Judd remained in bed. That should have been my first clue. Hurrying to the kitchen, I turned on the coffee pot, grabbed some Panera bagels from the freezer (we always have some kind of sweet rolls on Sunday), and made my way to the garage to begin my daily chores: feed the cats, fill the grain canisters, and make my way to the…
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Freedom?
The Sad Tale of Phineas the Steer The bell in our driveway sounded an alarm. Jumping out of bed, Judd hurried to the door and flipped on the porch lights. Beyond the edge of artificial light lay quiet darkness. No visitor at the door; no car in the drive. “Must have been a deer,” Judd mumbled as he crawled back into the warm bed. After several more alarms from the bell (“Probably deer,” we assured ourselves), silence reigned, and we both fell blissfully into dreams. The next morning as we filled our bowls with granola, Judd glanced out the kitchen window. “Hey! There’s a cow on the porch.” Setting his…
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carpe diem
The beautiful bench that once adorned my cabin has been relocated to our new home. When it arrived here, its pink flowers, green ivy, cream backdrop looked foreign to the room in which it was placed. It did not belong there. For many years, the bench was the centerpiece in my little cabin across the road, a place that had hosted countless hours of deep discussions, friendship building, as well as solitary quiet for many souls. The cabin stood for hospitality as well as solitude and silence. The bench was placed in the room that has replaced the cabin in the last few years. This room has taken on its…
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PRAYER MEETING with the COWS
I skipped down the path to the old barn where Daddy was doing the evening milking chores. I loved that whole scene: the soft glow from the old ceiling lights, the lowing of cattle, the scent of fresh milk, and the very essence of what farming with animals is all about. Born in Center County, Pennsylvania, I was four years old when my family bought a dairy farm in New York State. On that farm, my life was magical. Fields to roam, barns to explore, and the tightly structured life of a dairy farm all fit together into a cocoon of beauty and pleasure for me. And then there were…
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“Here All the Time.”
There are two ways to reach the rocky road that leads to the pasture. One is through the barnyard which usually means going through several gates; the other is around the top of the barn, past the double sliding doors, along the roof of the old stable, through a wooded area, and upward to the open pasture. I had been busy and was stuck in the mundane existence of daily life. My world had become smaller, duller, and ordinary. No great inspiration compelled me to do my daily prayer walk or even expect my regular quiet time to inspire me. I was experiencing a gray world, one of those times…
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Identity Confusion . . . in the barnyard
I stand at the gate to the barnyard and giggle. I have called and they are coming, rushing up the hillside from the pasture. The chickens are always first, assisting their little legs with flapping wings. Then comes Buck, the goat, running and bleating loudly. Donk, not wanting to look too eager, takes his time, stopping occasionally to check out the reason for being called away from his dinner of grasses. And then comes Jemima, the duck, quacking loudly and waddling as fast as she can, but far behind the barnyard crowd. Jemima is the one who tickles me. She, in no way, can compete with the others . .…
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A Confession
I confess I have acquiesced to something I never thought I would. Yes, Donq stands alone in the barnyard today accompanied only by two red hens. For several months, since we had placed the chicken house inside the barnyard to protect my two red hens, I have had to protect myself from the ire of one of the other occupants, Goatie Oatie. When I shut the chickens in the hen house one evening, Goatie seemed to think that I was giving them special attention and he wanted his share. With a little jump and a toss of his head, he warned me that he wasn’t happy. As the days went…
