-
No Pretension
Authenticity. Reality. I think that was what drew us to our farm. Yes, it was badly run down. The farm had seen a lot of living. It had been used to raise chickens and pigs, to grow crops, to supply milk, to allow a tiny family of three with little outside income to live comfortably for years. The eighty-five year old farmer had told us when we noticed the huge stacks of firewood around the house, “In the winter I stay snug as a bug in a rug.” The tiny house had been a shelter, a place of love, heartache, joy, loss. No pretense, no desire to impress, just…
-
Praise The Lord, the Drought is Over!
We were in the final day of our first Spiritual Dynamics Conference. Donald Mostrom, author from New England, had come to share his life with us. We were soaked by a sudden downpour as we approached the barn where we had set up old desk chairs, a podium, a small sound system scrounged from friends. It had been raining and now it was pouring rain. I was quite discouraged as I walked with our guest who was ready to deliver his last message of the weekend. However, Dr. Mostrom was exhilarated. “Praise the Lord,” he shouted as we walked up the hill to the barn that Sunday morning,…
-
The Beginnings of True Community
This group now calling itself Wellspring, was becoming a true community of like-minded people. One of the couples who sat with us during the discussion that evening was Charles and Kay Bascom. God creates community, and I fully believe that he brings together those with gifts to accomplish his purposes. Through the years, Charles has served in an unofficial capacity as “pastor” to our little community, and Kay has been the model of gracious love, hospitality, wisdom, and a true support to her husband. I remember working with Kay setting up the farm for that first Spiritual Dynamics conference. As we were winding up our preparations in the house Kay…
-
A Name for the Group . . .and the Place
This well story had been about our family until now. First, it meant that we would not have to haul water; second, it meant that we had God’s affirmation on our calling at the farm; third, and most affirming to me, was the promise of God’s blessing. Always, but now even more so, I saw this land as God’s land, and we were but his stewards The week quickly flew by. Finding water was not the end of the story. Now we had to hire someone to dig the line from the well to the house, a distance of about three hundred yards, farther than we had…
-
His Answer
As much as I hate to admit my naiveté, I dared to wish that we would find, not only the needed water, but perhaps . . . could I even dare to believe, we would find oil? Excitement had filled my whole being as my soul waited on tiptoe to see how God was going to fulfill this promise. He was going to “pour out” blessings. What did this mean? Water right away, I am sure, since this was not really the issue. The real issue was that he was going to bless the land with an anointing of his Spirit. But, God also knew that we had little financial…
-
A Promise
As I dialed the number that would connect me to Judd’s department at the University, I tried to collect my thoughts. Yes, I had tried the other taps. There was NO water coming from any of them. Obviously, at least to me, this was God’s response to my plea for direction; it was no coincidence. But now I was faced with explaining all of this to Judd who ultimately would feel the responsibility of determining the next step. Yes, we would discuss it and seek God’s direction, but a man will often feel the burden of the final decision. We were now in this together. “Judd, we have a problem.”…
-
A Well Story
The school bus pulled out of the drive and I began clearing the table of its breakfast remains. Without the luxury of a dishwasher, I filled the sink with hot soapy water and carefully slid the dirty dishes into the water. After six weeks of carrying water from town, I still celebrated running water from the faucet. This dishwashing process had become therapy. Shortly after we moved, we had located a spot near the house where Oscar, the original owner, had placed an old water hydrant. When the well diggers finally came, it had not taken long before we had a functioning well. The aquifer was only 60 feet down…
-
How to Begin?
A great invention, those strings that sew shut bags of animal feed! For years I have fumbled my way from one end of the seam to the other, trying to find the magical string among the bundle that will, with one quick tug, untangle the stitch all the way across the top of the bag. But it has to be the RIGHT string; no other will work. And then, voila, the bag is open and the contents are available. In writing the story of the farm, I feel like I am opening that feed sack once again. How to find the right string? How do I untie this story so…
-
A Sense of Anticipation: Part One
As I write this blog I am looking at a picture that was taken of our dining room table on a Thanksgiving day several years ago. It is set in expectation that someone will enjoy fellowship and refreshment at this table. Many family memories are represented here. We had collected those blue dishes that adorn each place setting from our neighborhood grocery store when the children were young. The dishes, like Judd and I, are now antiques. The tall blue drinking glasses were gifts from my daughter Sara. The antique oil lamps which came from my father-in-law’s collection are a silent reminder of his presence at this table. Name cards…
-
What Did I Miss?
I am sure that I missed it. But I am not sure what it was because I wasn’t looking for it. Oh, yes, I caught some of it, but I diminished it by grumbling, complaining, and wishing for something other. Although, I know I miss much of God’s presence every day of my life, this blog is a reflection on my failures before we moved to the farm. We lived in California temporarily for eleven years, and I was always looking for the escape clause. I was seven months pregnant with my second child when I had my first introduction to the San Fernando Valley. Barb, one of my lifetime…
