The Playful Pig and His Contemptuous Carelessness

Andy the Pig was cute, especially when he played with his big purple ball. He was smarter than I expected, too. Andy quickly learned a few skills that I wished he hadn't.

Before he arrived, my brother-in-law and nephew helped me build an automatic feeder from PVC pipe and a pan. Our construction team had to work fast because Andy was already on his way to the farm. In the interest of speed, we used baling string to secure the feeder to the 4x4 post. 

Yeah. I know. Bad idea.

In our defense, it looked good at the time. 

The PVC pipe had an open top for me to pour feed through and a cut-out at the bottom for the feed to fall into the pan. If the pipe was secure against the pan, the feed came out as the pig ate it, in a slow but steady stream.

Andy soon learned that he could fit his snout into the feed slot, lift up his head, and flip the pipe off the pan. Of course, all the feed (two days' worth) fell into the pan at once. 

As soon as Andy had the pipe off the pan, he learned to flip the pan out from under the pipe and use it like a frisbee. He tossed the pan all around his stall. Needless to say, he ran through a serious amount of pig feed in a very short time.

Nothing I did helped. He practiced his little trick every day. It was, apparently, great fun. 

The problem, however, was that Andy needed the nourishment of the feed to grow. Without it, he'd be hungry. Without it, he'd grow weak, lose weight, and die.

Andy treated the nourishment provided for him with casual contempt, as if there was an everlasting supply. 

When I looked in his stall and saw feed scattered in the mud, trampled by the feet of that pig, I did not have warm and fuzzy feelings from him. 

This morning, I opened my Bible, looking for spiritual nourishment, and wondered if I sometimes treat my spiritual food with the same contempt Andy showed for the feed I provided him. 

God's provided a steady supply of nourishment for our souls with His Word, as well as with godly teachers and helpful study aids. Our job is to ingest the word of God and allow it to nourish our souls, so that we can grow strong as disciples of Christ. 

In our resource-rich Christian culture, we should be the most rapidly growing, deeply muscled believers in the world. I'm afraid, however, we're more like Andy than we want to admit. Because there's so much available to us, we're careless with even what we need to survive, much less grow. 

In some places of the world, a single book of the Bible is treated as precious beyond words. It's cherished and protected. Studied and shared. It's used to grow strong, deeply muscled believers who use what they learn to follow our Lord the way He intended.

How many Bibles gather dust in our houses?

I wanted Andy to eat his food, not trample it under foot, so I cut off his supply of feed completely for most of a day. I let him get hungry enough to eat the food provided for him, rather than play with it. When his piggy stomach was grumbling again, I gave him enough food to satisfy his hunger, but not enough for careless contempt. 

He ate. 

Just as Andy's hunger drove him to ingest the food provided for him, there are times when God allows leanness into our lives so that our spiritual hunger will drive us back to Him and to His Word.  

Let's pause for a moment and consider how we treat the spiritual food God has provided for us. Do we treat it with careless contempt or does our hunger for God drive us to take in all He gives? Are we growing and strong, or does our carelessness leave us weak and ineffective.

The purpose of pig food is to grow a strong, well-muscled, healthy pig. The purpose of Soul-nourishment is much the same: to grow strong, well-muscled, healthy disciples. 

The banquet is spread. Let's step up to the table and partake of the bounty God has given. Let's open our Bibles. Do more than a causal glance at a single verse. Study the Word. Ingest it until it becomes a part of us and changes us in ways even the world can recognize.

"Thy Word have I hid in mine heart that I might not sin against Thee." Psalm 119:11

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The Problem of Stuckness and How to Overcome It

We had a little excitement at the farm yesterday.The tractor driver who shall remain nameless (Mr. Tractor Driver, or TD) had planned to bush hog the horse pasture. All kinds of weedy things are growing that should've been clipped ages ago, because they're going to seed. This is especially bad because my horses won't eat yucky weeds, so we don't need anymore bad seeds being cast about.

Anyway, Mr. T D motored over to the Blue Springs Gas and Grill on the blue Ford tractor and filled up the motor and my weed eater gas can. I'd been meaning to get gas, but I just couldn't get to it. That's a common problem in this kind of situation, I believe. The situation being that I've turned my dining room into a nursing home and bedside potty.

But I digress.

He was tanked up (literally - with diesel in the tank) and ready to roll. Mr. TD'll have to explain how all this happened, but he drove in the gate to the pasture and decided to make a turn so he wouldn't go in the ditch. As I understand it, the bush hog decided he would go. In the ditch.

Somehow, one wheel went in the ditch, then another one. I'm not sure exactly how the bush hog accomplished this, but it was definitely the bush hog's fault.

Mr. TD decided to just motor on down the ditch and come out the other end, but that didn't work out too well. Somehow, one of the back tires got stuck in the air. I've never found air to be all that sticky, but it was today. Mississippi humidity, probably.

When that happened, two tires were stuck in the ditch and one tire was stuck in the air, and Mr. TD couldn't decide how to get it unstuck. He decided to come talk to me about it, but I didn't have any experience with being stuck in air. 

I suggested we pray over it and see if God would miraculously get the tractor out of stuckness, but, I'm ashamed to say, I can't remember if we did that or not.

I have had many problems that didn't include stuckness over the years, and God has always helped me out of them. He has a lot of grace with me...because I'm in such need, I guess. And because He loves bad-girls-turned-good so very much.

All of this to say, since I couldn't remember if we'd prayed about it or not, so I finally did last night, and, of course, our sweet Jesus helped us out. 

Well, we're not exactly helped yet, but we will be. Just a few minutes after I'd prayed, The Sisters of Strength messaged me that they are coming to help and to tell them three things I need done. I told them about the tractor and the stuckness problem and they said they would fix it. The Sisters can do ANYTHING! 

So there are many lessons we can draw from this adventure. First of all, be careful about who or what leads you around, because there are plenty of things that will lead you in a ditch if you're not on your guard.

If you aren't careful and get in a deep ditch-of-life, it's harder to get out than you might think, so stay out to begin with and simplify your life.

Sometimes, you need your friends to help, so choose GOOD friends. 

Finally, pray about everything. Jesus said the Holy Spirit would be our Helper, and He meant it. 

Second-finally, we should always give thanks, and that's what Mr. TD and I did. We thanked God that we would probably get a good story out of the stuck tractor, if nothing else.

"Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7 nlt

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The Dead-Chicken Lesson

When I went in the chicken coop to feed and gather the eggs, I noticed a big black lump in the corner. On closer inspection, I found it was my black chicken, or what was left of her. 

I didn't do an autopsy, but I did do a "limited external exam". That's doctor-speak for "I turned her over and took a closer look." There was no evidence of trauma. She'd died of natural causes (aka old age).

I gathered the eggs, took care of the carcass, and went back to the house. 

As I headed down the gravel path, I reflected on how much life has changed around here. A few years ago, Sam would've "taken care of the carcass" and told me about it later. 

This time, I was the one who told Sam the sad news. "I wonder why she died. It didn't look like anything hurt her," I said.

Sam slowly shook his head. "Well, they's death all around us with those people doing so much killing. Even chickens is subject to death."

"The ISIS people?"

"Yeah. They're killing people every day. Somebody needs to do something about them."

I, too, have concerns about the terrorism of ISIS, but I wasn't quite sure how they had anything to do with my chicken's death.

The conversation veered away from the chicken and back to ISIS. Sam had been thinking a lot about them. "You know we been killing people since we got started. First Cain killed his brother and it went down hill from there."

"Why do you think that is, Sam?"

"We won't do right." 

It was a simple, yet profound assessment. As Sam went on to say, God gave Adam and Eve a lot of freedom. There were two trees they couldn't eat from, and everything else was fair game. 

Only two simple rules. 

It should've been easy to obey, but they didn't.

Later, God gave ten rules, but we wouldn't obey them.

Jesus made two simple laws the foundation on which all His other commands would rest. Love God. Love your neighbor. So far, we haven't obeyed those too well, either.

We are sinners who won't do right, but, by the power of the redemption purchased by Christ on the cross, and the presence of the Holy Spirit at work in us, we could do better, if we were willing. 

As Sam said, there's death all around us because there's sin all in us. It doesn't have to be this way. God has a better plan for His people, if we will only obey.

Today, let's invite God to cleanse us with the blood of Jesus, fill us with His Holy Spirit, and transform us by His great power. We can live as those who've been redeemed, but only if we're willing to let Him get the sin out of us. 

Today is the day. Now is the time. 

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1 
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#gospel #death #farmlife

The Lingering Aroma

I did a foolish thing yesterday, and, for the next several hours, I wished I hadn't. I almost hate to tell you about it, but I'm going to do it, anyway.

A lot of my fellow writers, who work from home, dress in their most comfortable clothes to write. I, on the other hand, treat it like a job. When I move to my computer in the morning to write, I go dressed for work. Yesterday, I wore a silk skirt with a blouse and sweater.

After lunch, I realized I needed to check on the chickens. It would have been sensible to change clothes first, but I thought it would be a quick trip. I switched to barn shoes and headed to the chicken house, silk skirt swishing.

I fed the chickens and gathered the eggs, then checked the waterer. It wasn't a pretty sight. The chicken roost is in a very unhandy place, nearly over the waterer. An energetic chicken can make a horribly unpleasant deposit in the waterer if she so desires. 

Apparently, she had so desired. More than once. It was a ghastly mess. And that's putting it mildly.

Here's the foolish part. I'm still surprised I did this, but I said to myself, "I should just scoop these feathers out of the waterer. Maybe I won't have to wash it out." For just a tiny moment, I failed to consider the deposits the roosting chicken had made.

Since I didn't have any gloves with me, and since I was trying to protect my silk skirt, I gathered up my skirt with my left hand, bent way over, and stretched out my right hand. In the waterer it went. I made a quick swoop around the basin of the waterer and came up with a handful of feathers and... "deposit". I gagged. Threw the handful on the ground. Gagged again. Dragged the waterer out, rinsed it clean, put it back in the chicken house, and refilled it with water.

I rinsed my hand at the tap and wiped it good with the towel I keep at the barn. All the way back to the house, I kept thinking, "Something smells terrible." I reached my right hand up to swipe the hair out of my face and I knew. The thing that smelled terrible was my hand. 

The scent of my recent action clung to my hand like a second skin. I washed my hand with lime-and-cucumber soap. No better. Lysol. Clorox bathroom cleaner. Comet. After all that scrubbing, there was still the lingering scent of ... the deposit.

At least my hand was clean, so I applied fragrant hand lotion. The two fragrances mingled and transformed the lotion's scent to... the deposit again.

Hours later, after multiple scrubs with tangerine sugar scrub, I finally got the scent off. Lesson learned.

Then, I noticed the spot on my silk skirt, and I went to work all over again.

During all the scrubbing, I had time to consider the "aroma" our actions leave in our lives. Acts of righteousness leave a sweet smelling aroma that pleases our Lord. Sinful acts leave an aroma that is not so pleasant.

Today, let's take careful note of our actions and the aroma they offer to our Lord. Let's choose wise actions and be sure we send sweet-smelling sacrifices of love His way.

"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in His triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing;" 2 Corinthians 2:14-15 nasb

#fragrance #Jesus #farmlife

Ryan's Rooster Adventure

"Good grief, Mom! You need to do something about that rooster of yours!" Ryan said when he returned from feeding. I laughed. I'd had a little encounter with that rooster myself, but we had gotten our differences worked out, and we had been getting along nicely ever since. "Why? What happened?" "You are not gonna believe this! I walked in with the feed and he jumped right on my head! He tried to spur me! I about never got him off me! Can you believe that?" Yes, actually, I could believe it, but he'd been doing so well lately that his new shenanigans caught me off my guard. "I should have warned you. He thinks he's in charge of the chicken pen and very particular about who comes in and out." "Particular is not the word I'd use for it. You need to watch out for him!"

When I went in the chicken pen to feed this morning, the rooster was on the tail board, watching the door. As I walked in, he clearly eyed me, considering his options. "Don't even try it," I told him, and he didn't. We're getting along much better. After I finished at the barn and headed back to the house, I thought about how much better the rooster is doing, at least with me. He has a way to go yet, but my bossy rooster has learned a little about submitting to the one that is ultimately in charge of the chicken pen.  

It's one of those lessons we'd all do well to learn, too. Perhaps the first thing we need to learn is that we are not really in charge of anything. No matter how much we think we are in charge, we are not. Our little "chicken pen" may look like the entire universe to us, but it's just a dot in the sky in comparison to all God owns, and He is firmly, completely in charge. Where the boss is concerned, my rowdy rooster has relinquished his fantasy of control. He is minding his manners and doing what he's told, and maybe that's what we should do, too. Swap control for submission and give the One in charge the respect He deserves.

Learning from Experience

Some of you may remember the Water Wars from last year (and Water Races and Water Wars Again. (You can click on the links if you've forgotten) 

During an outrageous Arctic Blast, my water froze at the barn and in every line going to every automatic waterer I had. To keep water going to all the livestock, I hauled water for hours before AND after work to the barn, to the cow waterer, to the horse waterer. You get the idea. It was awful. To make matters worse, I had to heat the water in my kitchen, then pour it into the buckets for some reason which I have, thank the dear Lord, forgotten about now. Anyway, it was just awful and to make matters much worse, before it was all over, the water in my kitchen froze while it was dripping out of my faucet, leaving me with a very interesting icicle dangling from the faucet! After that, I really had a water adventure!

I was determined not to have a repeat performance this year. When I saw that we were about to have another Arctic Assault, I almost panicked. Then, I suddenly remembered. Oh yeah! I've learned from my mistake! When I was finally able to get away from hauling water long enough to get to the farm supply store last year, I snapped up two water heaters as quick as a flash. They've been in my cabinet ever since. These are just marvelous contraptions that are electric hot sticks to put in water buckets. They heat the water and prevent freezing. No hauling. No heating. Just plug and go. 

Before the temperature started dropping yesterday, I ran an extension cord to the automatic waterers, plugged in my water heaters, and put them to work. Marvelous! They are marvelous! I was a little nervous about the water this morning, especially when the water in the stall buckets was frozen. Needless to say, I dreaded checking the automatic waterers for fear of what I would find. Much to my surprise and delight, they were fine. No ice. Just nice warm water. The horses didn't really like the warm water, but it's much better than ice. 

I've been back and forth to the barn today, checking on the water and being sure all the animals are situated, and all day I've rejoiced at having learned from experience. It's a funny thing about learning from experience. I don't always do it, do you? It seems like making a bad decision and suffering consequences would prompt us to say, "I am never doing that again!" But no. We have a tendency to make a decision, suffer a few consequences, then turn around and do it all again. How silly is that? Very! Today, though, I've had such a wonderful result from what I learned last year that I've decided to learn from some of my other less than stellar experiences, too. I've made a list of a few things I'm going to be doing differently, and you might consider making a list of your own. Speaking with the Voice of Experience, it's a much better way to go.

Stay warm and may your water ever flow!

Knowing Who's the Boss: Fred the Rooster forgets who's boss

My good friends Walter and Sherry Downs decided to get chickens a while back and, as will happen, not all of the chicks turn out to be hens. They had two roosters that were just beginning to crow. Because crowing is not considered a happy sound in some neighborhoods, Fred Mertz and Ricky Ricardo needed a new home. As you may have guessed, they found rooster heaven in Blue Springs, where fifteen hens were just waiting for a rooster.  Fred and Ricky have settled into a pretty comfortable routine. Ricky does a lot of crowing, not surprisingly, and Fred is in charge of the chicken coop. He says who comes and who goes. Fred and I have always gotten along just fine, until recently.

Fred never has liked Bill the Magnificent. For some reason, he disliked him from the start. Maybe it was because Bill wasn't Walter, but for whatever excuse that silly rooster chose, he declared war on Bill. When Bill went into the chicken coop to take feed, Fred would jump all over Bill. You can well imagine that did not go well. I feed the chickens now. Even when Fred was having his trouble with Bill, he was happy with me. Not long ago, though, Fred must have forgotten who I was. At my farm, all animals are required to remember the hand that feeds them and remember who is boss.  That's me. This remembering rule includes roosters, just in case you wondered. Apparently Fred forgot about the remembering rule. I walked into the chicken coop with feed for the feeder and that crazy rooster jumped all over me. When a big rooster decides to fly at you, he can do it with considerable force. The only reason I didn't fall down was because he rammed me into the door. I hate to say this, but I might have put my bucket in contact with a little of Fred's body. It was self defense and, thank the Good Lord, it got him off me.

I had more than a few words for Fred about this outrageous behavior and they included a discussion of fried rooster for supper. I do know how to dress a chicken, in case you wondered. It turned out that Fred did not respond to threats. The next day, I headed in with feed and Fred tried to jump on me again. This time, I was ready. I had my bucket up in an instant and, instead of ramming into me, he rammed into the bucket. I did not hit Fred. Fred hit himself. He jumped back and took a good long look at me. You are not going to believe this, but a good dose of remembering jumped all over that rooster and he came to himself. He took a few steps back and thanked me for the feed I so graciously provided. He was grateful I had brought water to quench his thirst. He was grateful for all the chickens that lived in the chicken coop that he had thought was his, but now realized was mine. It was a wonderful moment, and one neither of us have forgotten. Fred and I are friends, mostly because he got his remember-er fixed and he knows who's boss.

It's easy to get so accustomed to the little area over which we think we are in charge that we forget who is really in charge, don't we? I have a friend who likes to say, "There is a God, and you are not it." Admittedly, I have sometimes needed reminding of that fact. Perhaps we all do. There is a God, and you are not it. It's not really that we think we are God. What generally happens is that we think we are in charge. We can become so accustomed to making decisions, doing what we want, and being self-sufficient that we forget those decisions we make, the actions we take, the supposed self-sufficiency are all possible because of the grace of God. That grace is His wonderful way of giving us what we don't deserve. Just like old Fred the Rooster, we can forget who's boss and start demanding our way. God must just laugh at our foolishness. After a while, though, he has to settle us down for our own protection. Fred the Rooster would have starved to death if he'd had his way. Aren't you grateful God doesn't let us get that far? Perhaps we should do what the animals here at the farm are required to do. When they start feeling sassy, they have to remember who's boss and recognize the hand that feeds them. It's a pretty good rule for us, as well.

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The Fat Goat

Some months ago, we had three goats. Two had horns and one, Ryan's original show goat, did not. They were all former show goats and fine specimens. Shamrock, Ryan's first goat, has had a little trouble with her waistline in the past and it had an unfortunate impact on her show ring success. The other goats, however, fixed that. Over time, those goats with horns became increasingly aggressive with her. They started pulling her hair. They wouldn't let her eat. She lost weight. 

Eventually, I had to intervene. I would stand guard over Shamrock at mealtime. Before long, I was fighting off those horned goats as they tried to attack both Shamrock and me. That was the final straw. "Sisters, you are headed to the sale barn!" I threatened. They didn't care. They were as tough as nails. They could take anything. Ryan, my son, informed me, "You'd be tough too if you had big guns on your head." I thought they were more like battering rams, but I finally had enough. I called the owner of the sale barn and those goats were gone.

Shamrock had been through a rough time and had lost some weight. In fact, she looked a lot like a "Twiggy" goat, so I started giving her increased rations. I was so proud of her improved nutrition that I failed to notice her expanding waistline. Again. When Ryan came home recently, he went to visit his goat and was shocked. "Mama, that goat is morbidly obese! You're going to kill her feeding her so much!" I could not believe it. "I'm cutting her rations back to half of this," he said as he emptied part of the feed back in the barrel. "I cannot believe how fat she is!" He was truly shocked. 

I went back to the goat pen and took a good look at Shamrock. Ryan was right. I had just about fed poor Shamrock into a heart attack. (Well, not really, but she had gained a bunch of weight.) It seems odd that I hadn't realized how much weight she had gained, but I see her every day. It happened gradually, and it's left me thinking about how easy it is for me to develop thoughts, behavior, and habits so gradually that I don't notice their impact on my heart and life. Do you do that, too? Probably so, if you're like most people. Maybe what we need is to take a few steps back and look at our lives and our hearts from God's perspective. When He views our heart, what does He see? What does He think? Sometimes He must want to say, "Look what you're doing! You're making a mess! Stop! Let's fix this before it gets worse!" 

During this Advent season, as we await the birth of our Lord, let's remember why He came. We had made such a mess of our hearts and our lives, from the beginning of the world, that we needed a Savior and only a perfect, spotless, sinless Savior would do. Lord Jesus wrapped Himself in flesh and came to dwell among us. He took the mess we made of our lives pretty seriously and we should, too. Let's invite Him to do an inspection and help us to make any changes needed. He came to save us, but He never intended to leave us like we were. Let's invite God to have His way in us this Christmas season.

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The new book, The Waiting: When the Answer to Your Prayer is Delayed and Your Hope is Gone, as well as The Clay Papers and The Road to Bethlehem (an advent devotional guide) are now available at http://www.leannahollis.com/online-store/ Get your copy today.  

Staying Close to the Herd

In case you are just joining in, Toby is my 28 year old horse who has lost a considerable amount of his hearing. He was my first horse, so I'm really partial to him, at least most of the time. He is as cantankerous as a mule quite a bit of the time, and some days I think about the possibility of equine euthanasia. I don't think about it for long, but it definitely crosses my mind, especially when he repeatedly kicks the barn door to make me hurry with his feed.

Toby's hearing is terrible, but as long as he stays with the other horses, he's fine. They hear for him. When they head to the barn, he goes, too. The problem is that Toby has developed a tendency to wander away from the other horses, rambling through the hills and pastures, nibbling grass as he goes.  When he goes off on his own, he can't hear me call him, and I have to track him down like a hound dog, searching through the pastures for him.

There is a simple solution that would allow Toby to enjoy all the human interaction he loves, all the on-time meals he prefers, all the coat-brushing he needs. Stay close to the herd. Staying close to the herd is all that is needed, but, for some reason, he doesn't want to do that. He wants to go his own way.

I've been like that before, haven't you? I've wandered from my herd (the body of Christ) and gone my own way, but it never worked out like I planned. Wandering and nibbling as I went never brought the fun or freedom I expected, but it certainly brought more grief and regret than I ever imagined. Perhaps you've experienced this for yourself. Maybe you're doing a little wandering of your own now.

Just as Toby is safer in his herd, even when he and the other horses disagree (to put it mildly), we are, too.  The body of Christ was never meant to be a solo act. It was intended to be a kind of teamwork, where we all have our function, we are all indispensable, and all interdependent. Each one of us is critical to the whole and each one has a vital part to play. When the body of Christ works the way He intended, it's the best place to be. It can't work, though, if we don't fill our position and do our part.

How well are you doing your part in the body of Christ? How close are you to those where Christ has placed you? If you are not enjoying the consolations of the Christian walk, maybe what you need is to "stay close to your herd." Take your place. Do your part.

"But now God has placed the members, each one of them, in the body, just as He desired..." (1 Corinthians 12:18 NASB)

The Importance of Ears

Sunday was the Christmas choir program and, since this was the first time I've sung in a choir since high school (which was a few decades ago), I was naturally very excited. We were to be there at 5:00 pm, which meant I had to leave my house by 4:30 pm.  The timing was a little bit of a challenge for me.

Well, actually it was a lot of a challenge. I had planned to get feed on Saturday after the Blue Springs Senior Citizen Luncheon. I had driven my truck to the luncheon, then decided to take the dirty tablecloths to the house and start them in the washer before I went to the feed store. (I probably shouldn't admit this, but this is an evening confession. Just don't think I'm a total nut.) I usually back into the truck's parking place by my house. For some reason, I decided to drive in, then do some maneuvering, and turn around. I didn't count on how wet the ground was from the recent rain, and my truck got stuck. That should not have been a problem, because it has four wheel drive. It was a problem, however, because I forgot how to get it in four wheel drive. I struggled and struggled. Finally, I admitted defeat and asked Sam. He couldn't remember either. We both admitted defeat and text'd Bill the Magnificent, who text'd right back with easy directions. By that time, it was getting late and I was facing unloading 850 pounds of feed in the dark. I really hate unloading feed in the dark, so I decided to get the feed after church on Sunday. My ox was not in the ditch, but my truck kinda was.

After church, I stopped to buy feed on the way home, then had to change clothes to go to the barn. The new guy who loaded my feed had a little problem with his equipment, which I didn't realize until I got home. It turned out that he had somehow put the feed in so that I had to climb into the bed of the truck for every bag, then drag it to the edge, hop out, haul it into the barn and stack it, then climb back in for the next bag. 850 pounds of feed later, I was dirty and sweating, but the feed was unloaded.

The livestock had to be fed before I left for choir, but I had just fed the horses a few hours earlier. I made a very careful calculation and decided to feed all the livestock at 3:15. That would give me time to feed everyone, take a quick shower, and still leave on time. It would be plenty of time IF everything worked right. I didn't count on the problem with Toby and his ears.

At 3:15, I went to the barn, put feed in the horses' feed troughs, opened the barn door, and called. "Come on, girls!" Admittedly, Toby is not a girl, but he usually comes anyway, right along with the mares. This time, Cali and Belle came, but no Toby. I called and called. I whistled and whistled. Since he is 28 years old, I always worry when he doesn't come up. I was desperate. Time was getting short and I was going to be late. I decided he had fallen over dead in the pasture. I would have to deal with a dead horse and would have to miss my choir program. I was on the verge of tears. (That's what vain imaginings will do for you!) I began to plot how to deal with his body. This was not going to be good.

Finally, I stopped to pray about how to deal with my dead horse's body, and it seemed as if I was getting some directions that sounded a lot like, "Go look." That would be helpful, I supposed, because I could tell a little better how to deal with his body if I knew where he had fallen. I admit it. I was having a totally crazy-frantic moment. It was muddy outside the barn, but I waded through to find the body of Toby, my very first horse. He has been more cantankerous than a mule for years, but at that moment, he was the best horse that had ever lived.

I walked through the pasture and continued to call Toby, just in case. As I topped a little hill, I had the most amazing sight! Toby hadn't fallen over dead at all! Toby was standing there, eating grass, as calm as a cucumber. I called him and he never looked up. Finally, I walked up to him and touched him. He seemed surprised to see me. It was at that moment that I realized the problem was his ears. He couldn't hear me. He had wandered away from the other horses and, alone in the pasture, he had no way of knowing I had called him. I motioned to him and he started following me back to the barn.

There's more than one lesson in this story (beginning with the value of avoiding vain imaginings) but we are only looking at the importance of ears tonight. The loss of Toby's hearing puts him at a distinct disadvantage. He can't hear danger approaching. If he can't hear my voice, he doesn't know when I'm calling him for a meal or for a ride. Not only does he miss his nourishment, he misses the time of interaction with his humans, too.

We, too, can have problems with our ears that prevents us from hearing the voice of the Master calling. When the cares of this world or the sin that so easily besets overwhelms us, when our lives are filled with clamor and strife, that Still Small Voice of God is not easy to hear, is it? The problem with lack of hearing is that we can easily miss the blessings God has planned for us when we fail to hear His call. Even more important, we miss that sweet interaction and communion with Him that He offers so freely.

Can you hear the Still, Small Voice? Listen closely. Your Master is calling.

The Problem with Trees

I love trees. I love the shade they provide and the symbolism of long years of surviving all storms to which the existence of truly big trees attests. It's a good thing I love trees because my land has a marvelously outrageous number of lovely trees. If I told you how many trees with which God has blessed me, you would not believe it. If you did, however, you might resent this great gift because it is so extravagant.  

Since God has blessed me outrageously with all these trees, it seems wrong to complain, but there is one teeny tiny problem with trees. They fall down. This falling down is wonderful when they opt to fall down into nice firewood-sized pieces in the middle of a pasture. Do you know how seldom a tree will do that? Hardly ever. What my trees do when they fall down is land right smack dab on my barbed wire fence. That is bad because my cows can get out. It is also bad because the fence has to be rebuilt. 

There is, however, good news. I love to build fences! I love to string barbed wire and get it really tight. To be honest, (which I don't particularly want to be in this instance but which I better be because I am about to write about God here) I also love it when someone says "Great fence. Who'd you get to do it?" And I can say, "I got myself to do it!" They are always surprised, especially if I am wearing prissy girl clothes, which helps catch them off guard. (Hey, I'm human, too.)

My trees have recently had a falling down contest in the cow pasture and I have had several adventures dealing with it, some of which you may have already read. This latest adventure is not really a good adventure but we can all learn a lesson from it. One of the falling trees was so enormous that it landed on my fence and knocked down a bunch of my neighbor's trees, too. He was very nice about it, since I did not organize the falling down competition and since the trees he lost were crummy trees anyway. A LOT of my fallen down tree was in his woods so we worked out a little deal. I would get the wood cut up for firewood and off his land, clean up the broken mess on his land, and rebuild my fence. All he had to do was be happy, so it worked out great. 

Well, I thought it had worked out great. Some guy had been asking Bill the Magnificent about cutting up fallen trees for firewood and splitting it on the halves. He reportedly has a splitter. He would split the wood and keep half as payment. That seemed like something that might be nice. Neither Sam nor Bill the Magnificent had ever thought I needed my wood split, assuming that I can hoist a tree stump and haul it to the fireplace. That is not really a girl-thing. In case you were wondering. After twenty-five years of hoisting tree stumps, I am ready to have split wood. 

The day came when Mr. Splitter (AKA Mr. Supposed Splitter) was to bring his equipment and split the wood.  He came with a trailer and helped cut the wood. Now, if I had been told about this ahead of time, it would not have happened. I was not born yesterday. Mr. Supposed Splitter loaded all that wood on his trailer (at least two cords) and said his splitter had a flat tire, so he would have to take my wood home, split it there, and bring it back. Yeah, right. I have not seen that wood again! 

Bill the Magnificent has tried unsuccessfully to get my wood back and he has even discussed it with the sheriff, who was not one bit happy about this. It is my opinion that stealing firewood from a woman is not the lowest thing you can do, by any means, but it is not good at all, and I am not happy about it. I thought I was going to give one lesson from this, but writing has gotten me stirred up (which it often does) and I am giving you two for the price of one. 

First of all, Sam Wiley has always told me, "A man is only as good as his word. If his word ain't no good, you can be sure he ain't, neither." Sam is pretty smart about such things, and I believe he is right. Mr. Supposed Splitter has demonstrated by his action that, in Sam's words, "He ain't no good." Because I'm trying to act like Jesus, I have sent word that he can bring my wood back and all will be forgiven. He is not, however, getting a chance with all the other fallen-down trees.

If you get a chance to give your word, please remember this. Do what you say you will do! 

The second little lesson is coming up. For some reason, Bill the Magnificent has not given me the contact information for Mr. Supposed Splitter. That is probably a good thing. It doesn't matter, though, because I have decided to take this matter to the Higher Authority. I have invited God into this situation. There is a great verse in Isaiah that speaks of God rolling up His sleeves and wading in on behalf of His children. I am counting on that very thing. 

"The LORD has bared His holy arm In the sight of all the nations, That all the ends of the earth may see The salvation of our God." (Isaiah 52:10 NASB)

I do not want to even think what it would be like if God rolled up His sleeves and dealt with me about something. He has had to do that a few times, and it was pretty terrible. It did, however get me straightened out. It seems to me that Mr. Supposed Splitter could use some straightening out, and I have asked God to do it. It might not be something Mr. Supposed Splitter will really like, but once he is straightened out, he will be glad. I know that from experience. 

I did not really mean for my fallen tree to be a teachable moment, nor to be an opportunity for getting straightened out for Mr. S. Splitter, but it turns out it is. If that happens, I guess having my wood stolen will be worth it, but I sure had my heart set on split wood.

The Scoop That is Always Full

Because Toby, our 28 year old horse, is very grumpy when he wants to be fed, we fill the horses' feed buckets after the evening feeding and leave them in the feed bin for the next morning. Since the horses' feed is prepared ahead of time, we go ahead and prepare the goat's feed scoop, too. As soon as someone (me) gets to the barn in the morning, the goat starts throwing a fit. Everyone wants to be first. The horses get their feed first because Toby kicks the barn door like crazy if he's not. All the goat does is baah over and over. She waits, but the only way to survive the ruckus is get prepared ahead of time.

Today was no exception. I went to the barn, fed the horses, grabbed the goat scoop, and headed to the goat pen. As always, I dumped the scoop into the trough. I'm not sure which of us was more surprised, but Shamrock the Goat was definitely unhappy-surprised. She looked at me and started throwing a baahing fit. The scoop was empty. I had grabbed the wrong scoop. It's the first time I've ever fed the goat air, and she did not like it one little bit. 

Of course, I went back to the barn and got feed, but it made me think about all the times I've turned to God for spiritual nourishment. In Matthew 4:4, Jesus said, "Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God." It is Scripture that is absolutely essential for our spiritual life, and it is always nourishing. The good thing is that God never feeds us from an empty scoop. When we turn to Scripture and ask the Lord for spiritual nourishment, we find that His scoop is always full, and He gives us exactly what we need to grow and mature into the faithful disciples He has called us to be. 

Are you feeling a little "lean" spiritually this holiday season? Maybe you need to let His word nourish your spirit and renew your soul. Turn to the Scoop that is always full. 

Wanting something different

Belle is usually the sweetest horse in the barn. Lately, however she has had her eye on Cali's stall. When I open the barn door to let the horses in, Belle nearly plows me down. She is galloping to get to Callie's stall first. 

What's incredibly foolish about Belle's behavior is that she already has the best stall. Hers is roomy and comfortable. There's nothing wrong with her stall at all, and no reason to want a change. That is the problem. She wants a change. It won't be for the better, but she wants what Cali has. 

When I see her behavior, I know that it's foolish. It's foolish in horses and, I hate to say, it's foolish in us, as well. On this Black Friday, the most insane shopping day of the year, we would do well to recognize that our behavior can be just as foolish as Belle's.  Most of us already have all that we need. Most of the people for whom we buy already have all that they need. Most of us have a very comfortable life, as do those for whom we will shop. What, exactly, is the point of this shopping frenzy? 

The Christmas season is the biggest shopping season of the year. There is an incredible pressure and compulsion to spend and buy. The spending extravaganza that will take place over the next few weeks certainly has nothing at all to do with Jesus' birthday and likely nothing to do with extending the kingdom of God in any way. I wonder what God thinks about it. What does He think about the way we steward the resources He has entrusted to us during this season? 

Lest you think I'm the biggest Scrooge in town, let me confess that we put up a tree today and it is beautiful. The ornaments have been collected over a lifetime, many made by my son as a child. I will help with a Christmas luncheon for the Senior Citizens in my town and will dress the tables with typical holiday decorations. I'm singing in the Christmas musical at church. 

I'm fully invested in the season. It's my Savior's birthday and I want Him to enjoy the festivities. With that in mind, I've modified my traditions a bit over the years. The buying and giving has been decidedly different the last few years, and it will be more so this year. Handmade gifts will be the norm. I've learned some new food preservation skills this year. A few people are getting a sample with detailed instructions on my technique. I will definitely be giving books, and they will not all be books I have written, but they will have something of faith in them. I collected seeds from my favorite flowers in my yard and there will be a few seed packets tucked into gifts. Most gifts will have something of me in them. They will have meaning and, hopefully point to Jesus. 

Not all of my gifts will be "stuff" to add to someone's collection. Some of my gifts will be investments in the kingdom of God, and I will try hard to match the donation with the one in whose name it is given. 

Friends, the mess we've made of the Christmas season will not get better until those of us who know and love Jesus decide to do something different. The changes I have made would have seemed strange and terrible ten years ago, but they have come, steadily but gradually, and my Christmas celebration is better for it. It will be focused on Jesus and will point the way to Him. Come to think of it, isn't that the way it's supposed to be? 

Don't just try to keep Christ in Christmas, let's let Him have the entire thing. Why not make Him our focus throughout the Season, not a pile of stuff? Don't  just have a Happy Holiday. Make sure what we have this year is a Merry Christmas. 

The thanksGiving series, part 9: The not-so-restful Sunday

My hair was still in a sock bun, but I had begun to get dressed for church when the phone rang. It's usually a telemarketer when my home phone rings, but it was Sunday and I was feeling particularly charitable, so I answered. It was a good thing I did. Sam was calling to tell me my cows were out. I left the sock in my hair, switched from skirt and boots to jeans and coveralls and headed to the barn. 

My first trick was to fill a bucket with feed and rattle it. The cows usually come running if they hear that beautiful sound. Sure enough, I walked to the gate, rattled the feed, and looked for cows. They were just outside the fence. When they heard that lovely rattle, their heads shot up, they saw me, and started running. Mama cows running is a sight to see, and I laughed out loud. They came right up, ate their feed, and relocated to a secure spot. 

They had clearly been out, so I started walking the fence. As usual, I found some crummy areas that needed repair. I was nearly to the end of the fence before I found the problem. An ENORMOUS tree had fallen on the fence. Much to my surprise, the tree didn't look dead. It appeared to have been struck by lightning. I have had quite enough of this lightning strike business recently, but there is nothing to do except keep repairing the damage it has caused. This tree had fallen right in between two brace posts. Oddly enough, it had smashed the wire down, but did not appear to have broken it. There was no way to get to the wire or to fix the fence until the tree was out of the way. 

There was plenty of other fence work to do, so I text'd Bill the Magnificent to let him know there was serious tree cutting in his future and to come on so I could get the fence fixed. Unfortunately, he had worked last night and was asleep. Sam, my neighbor who is 84 years old, is 6'4", recently gained up to 120 from eating peanut butter, and has bad double vision as a complication of cataract surgery, was going to help me. We started at the corner, where the fence was loose and soon to be down. I took the fence down so I could put it up correctly. Since Sam is about the size of a breath of air, I was going to pull the wire and he would hammer the staple. It seemed like a good plan until I realized he was hammering all over the post but never hitting the staple. I said to Sam exactly what he'd have said to me. "Sam, that's some bad hammering you're doing. You haven't hit the staple yet, but you've come close to my nose and my hand!" He shook his head and said, "Well, you know I see two of everything, and I can't tell which steeple to hit (that's what he calls a staple), so I'm trying to hit all the steeples I see. I thought one of them might be the real thing." None of them were. We switched jobs. I would pull the wire, Sam would hold it, then I would hammer the staple. It took us a long time to get the fence fixed. 

I walked along the fence that joined the one I was repairing and saw a sight I hoped never to see. Someone had tried to repair my fence and had used baling string to connect two pieces of barbed wire. I wanted to howl with indignation. Really, I like fencing. All that is needed is tell me a piece of my fence is down and I'm on it! There is never a reason to connect barbed wire with baling string. Just so you know. "Sam," I said, "We are going to have to take this down and get some barbed wire in here. Did you do this?" He wouldn't say. Finally, he found a good answer and used it. "Well, it looks like I should've known better than that." Indeed. I just shook my head and went to work. Once the fence was repaired, we had a good laugh about the baling string. Sam has a baling string collection and he uses it to repair everything. Apparently including barbed wire fences. 

Sam and I took a break for lunch and went back to fencing. We found more horrible repair jobs, took more fence down, and redid it all. When we got to the tree, there was no repairing it until Bill the Magnificent got the tree cut up. He worked on it, but it is so huge that he will not be through until Wednesday or maybe Thursday. I am just reporting what he said. 

At that point, Sam and I had literally done all the fencing we could do, and about all we could stand, so we headed back toward the barn. I fed the livestock, finally convinced the cows that I had water for them, and headed to the house. You might be surprised about this, but I was tired and dirty, and in serious need of a shower. 

Finally, we get to the point. I love great soap. Sometimes I make soap. Often, I buy great soap at my favorite "fashionista store". When I have wonderful soap that has been used down to the little scraps, I stick the scraps in my pink travel soap dish. I was recently at the end of some terrific soap and thought, "I need to go buy some more great soap," however, I'm doing this frugal, savings month so I hated to go buy overpriced soap. It turns out, however, that I was safe because my scraps of great soap have made a "greatest hits" bar of soap that is just wonderful. 

The soap is not at all pretty, but it has a lovely fragrance and the soap is all my favorites at once. Using this scrap-soap instead of buying more saved my $4.98. Incredibly, that brings the total to $201.83! In nine days! Without doing anything hard or strange, I have saved hundreds of dollars from simple, easy changes that will allow me to make an investment in the Kingdom of God. I can't wait!  

How's your savings jar going? Have you thought about what kind of Kingdom work you are going to do with your savings? I can't wait to hear what you all do, so keep me posted!

The light in the pocket

As the wonder dogs and I made our way to the barn this morning, it was incredibly dark. The sliver of moon gave barely enough light to see a hint of the gravel path before us. When we arrived at the barn, the dogs did fine. I, however, tripped over the feed pallet, ran into the manure-filled wheelbarrow, and stumbled over the doorjamb on my way to turn on the lights. 

Walking back home, I thought that, had I known how dim the moonlight would be, I would've left the lights on last night. I hate to admit it, but I grumbled intermittently about my banged up shins  all the way home. Just as I got to the gate at my house, I slipped my hand into my pocket. You will not believe what I found! A flashlight. When I was stumbling around and banging my shins, all the light I needed to move around safely was in my pocket the entire time. I had never bothered to check.

I hate to admit it, but sometimes I stumble around in life that way, too. All the light I need for clarity is constantly available, and just a prayer away, but sometimes I don't even bother to check until I'm stumbling around, getting hurt by my own failure to seek guidance. How sad that the Light I need for life is much more accessible than the flashlight in the pocket. 

Maybe you never fail to seek direction from God, but more likely, you are a lot like me. Walking in the dark when it's not necessary. If so, you and I would both do well to take note of the Light of the World who has placed His light in us and shine accordingly. 

Fence Building

I am a fanatic about fences, and I don't mind admitting it. I want the barbed wire tight, the posts straight, and every strand level. Just so you know, there is never, ever a reason to secure barbed wire with baling string. Why would anyone even consider such an option? 

This morning, I did my usual routine of feeding livestock, writing, and opening the park. I was headed to take a shower when It occurred to me that the plants still needed to be moved to the greenhouse. That big project was almost done when Betsy, Ryan's first show heifer and a magnificent animal, came up to the fence and started bawling. She was clearly very unhappy. It turned out that a large dead tree had fallen on the fence, driven one of the fence posts completely into the ground (a few inches still showing) and totally leveled the fence. As a result, Custard, Ryan's big Charolais cross, had stepped through the gap and was in the yard. Betsy was "telling on her"!  

After moving the cows to the round pen, I went back to examine the fence. There was a tree down that needed to be moved, fencing wire to separate, and an entire stretch of fencing to be repaired. A closer look revealed that someone had used baling string to connect the wire to the posts. I was not happy.  In addition, some of the wire did not have clips attaching it to the posts. Maybe the impact of the tree knocked those clips right off. Maybe. But I doubt it. 

The condition of the fence was so totally pitiful that I decided the only thing to do was take down the entire section, reseat my posts, and restring the wire, and I gathered my tools to get started. It was a terrible mess and the job looked way too big, but I did what I always do. "Lord, I can't tell where to start. Please help me!" 

After a survey of the rubble, it was clear that the tree had to be moved. I was trying to decide how to move it and thought, "Roll it".  Much to my surprise, I reached down, lifted that big log, gave it a twisting shove, and it rolled right down the hill. Thankfully, only one strand of wire was broken and It just so happened that there was one turnbuckle in the tool box to repair it. Before I knew it, I had reseated the posts, figured out how to use my come-along (to tighten the wire), taken all the wire loose, repaired the break, restrung the wire, and secured it to the posts (with the appropriate fencing clips). 

It was amazing that all that work was accomplished so quickly, but what was even more amazing was that the fence was tight and straight. More than a decade ago, a dear friend realized how lacking I was in basic farming skills and undertook to teach me. He and his family  taught me how to set a post, string wire, and build a fence, among many other things. How they stood dealing with such a prissy diva is beyond me, but they were instrumental in God's work of transformation that changed a diva into a woman a little more like what God has intended. I'm still easily overwhelmed by the scope of the farm work, but I'm much quicker to think, "Maybe I can do this" and to give it a try. The investment they made in my life has yielded an incredible result and my new straight fence is just one of the many benefits of their efforts. 

Now, lest you think that I have become a fantastic farmer, remember that my fence was in a mess before the tree fell, and I didn't know it. I am a fanatic about wanting the fences to be right, but I have not been a fanatic about checking them or repairing them myself. That's because I have, once again, let busyness take over, and the farm, the pastures, the fences, and I don't know what else yet, have gotten away from me. The good news is that the investment in me was not wasted, I do know how to fix fences, and the farm work will get done in the same manner the fence was repaired today. One step at a time and with the help of God. 

Are you investing in the life of someone? It is easy to get frustrated when that effort you've expended seems to have no yield or be totally wasted. Take heart. Investments in the Kingdom of God are never wasted, even when the part of the Kingdom you're investing in is a too-busy, prissy woman like me. In the blink of an eye, a tree can fall, fence wire can break, and priorities can be not only shifted but also corrected. 

But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; (Matthew 6:20 NASB)

You may not be able to tell it right now from looking at my pastures, but before too long, I'm hoping it becomes clear that the investment in my life was not just worth it, but is bearing fruit that lasts.