Memories from others
- 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.”…
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One Hundred Years!!
I think it was the stately old barn that convinced us to buy the farm. Its age held a nostalgic appeal to Judd and me Though its old red paint had faded to gray, the barn stood steady and strong under the weight of hundreds of sweet-smelling hay piled on its top floor. As the local farmers came to reclaim the hay they had bought, the walls began to reveal not just cobwebs and dust, but memories: old harnesses, tools, and memorabilia. Painted on the south-east wall was a number: (1918). The significance of the number was a mystery, until Judd visited one day with old Chappy. Chapman’s Gas …
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TRANSFORMATIONS by Kay Bascom
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Ah!! I Remember . . .
Fifty years of God’s faithfulness in our marriage brings a reflection on Trust. A particular hymn we occasionally sing in church never fails to stir my heart with memories of gratefulness, joy, and amazement. At Philadelphia College of Bible we sang “Great is Thy Faithfulness”at every chapel meeting. I remember hurrying from my room, down five flights of stairs to the old chapel. Yes, my bed was made, everything picked up and neat. This was the time the dorm mom would visit every room for a room- check. Your bed better be made, and you had best be out of the room and down in chapel, or you would receive…
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A House by the Side of the Road
A house on a farm in Kansas? Can actually touch the world? Or is it the world touching the farm? The answer is: Yes . . . both! Today we sat around the old oak dining-room table and ate sandwiches with a family from Ukraine. Earlier in the morning we breakfasted around the same table with overnight guests from Georgia, USA. Meanwhile, grandchildren and our children pass by our dining room window: Dan on his daily prayer walk; Elsie on her bike, off to clean for an elderly woman down Kitten Creek Road; the three younger boys watering all the newly planted trees around our home. Out our kitchen window…
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A Wedding in the Walnut Grove
A wedding! The third grandchild ( third child of Dan and Nancy) is now creating a new limb to our family tree. Lillian and Shiloh’s story goes back ten or eleven years ago when the Brock and Swihart family first met. Even then, it seems, there were sparks. But little did they express that interest until just a few months ago. What joy it was to celebrate their wedding with them. Lillian carried flowers that she had grown in her garden; we shared cherry pie that she and her friends had baked; and the couple drove off in a vehicle that Shiloh and his friends had “constructed.” Creativity abounds in this…
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Re-Collecting in the Pasture
Today I needed to walk the old familiar trail in the pasture again.The thoughts and feelings swirling in my mind and heart were and are disconcerting. Thirty-eight years ago, this pasture was new to me. My body was younger. I was filled with anticipation of what could be, Things in the world were . . . just different. Yes, we were on a down-swing in our culture, but there was hope of changing it. Yesterday we were young, God was with us, we could carry out the vision under God’s direction. We were a community with one heart. Today, we are not so young. Our community living here is of…
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Our Life in the Country
According to the resident expert this is a lavender Australorp (ROOSTER!!!). Sometimes life in the country takes “true grit.” My new replacement hen crowed today. OOps. He was guaranteed to be a hen. Now, my granddaughter, Lillian, tells me the other “hen” is a rooster, also. And why do I have a replacement in the first place? This is the sad part. According to the trail cam we also have a mother fox with three kits. This mom decided she needed to feed her babes, and my wonderful, dear old hens were the dinner. The night before a raccoon had decimated my friendly ducks. I became an “empty nester” in just a…
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Memories of the Farm by Michael Kizzee
When invited, along with many others, to write my memories of Well Spring farm on Kitten Creek Road, I found myself at a loss. How does one capture in words the way a piece of land has imprinted one’s spirit? Thinking about the memories makes me want to return again, but I fear the moment has passed and it wouldn’t be the same. Never-the-less, I will try to share the impact this farm had upon me. My first visit to the farm came when Nancy and Judd were rebuilding the barn that was in disrepair. My girlfriend at the time, Alicia, (later my wife of 19 years) invited me to…
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TRANSFORMATIONS by Kay Bascom
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TRANSFORMATIONS by Kay Bascom
For those who have not been to the Swihart Farm, it is unusual to describe. Most farms are squarish. This farm is on a quarter mile wide strip that spans a half mile (80 acres east and 80 acres west) on each side with a “belt” in the middle – a fairly straight Kitten Creek Road which roughly follows a very crooked Kitten Creek. When the Swiharts bought the old Fritz farm in l982, there were just a scattering of dilapidated buildings west of the road: a house, barns, and sheds. Transformed now, I picture the geography in terms of a butterfly at rest. Her body is Kitten Creek…
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A Sense of Anticipation: Part Two
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Our Christmas at the Farm by Kim Moir
Self-pity was not far from my mind on that Christmas morning many years ago. Currier and Ives images of families gathered around Christmas trees and Norman Rockwell’s ghosts of idealism floated through my mind as we put on our winter coats, boots, and hats. It was only 9 AM and I had already been up for several hours keeping Nicky entertained and out of trouble while he watched Disney videos in his room so he would not wake our other son, Scott. Bill and I packed up what we would need for our Christmas morning cookout, loaded up the car, and headed west to a place we knew would be…
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TRANSFORMATIONS by Kay Bascom
