Cherry Pit Conversations

We work together in the breezy shade of a large locust tree.  Silly thoughts and actions, reminders to stay focused, deviations to dump the unusable flourish.

The words change course as the work picks up the pace.  One asks if my life would be better if I hadn't had children.

"NO WAY!", I respond adamantly.  I list my three greatest gifts in order...Jesus, Brian, my children.  I could continue the list, but those are the top three.

Then Raleigh, as he leaves with a net to catch a damsel fly under the guise of dumping the pit bowl, asks how I could love others if I was supposed to love God with my whole heart.

Good question.

I share a story about when I was pregnant with him and I had a nagging fear I wouldn't love him as much as I loved Conner.

My fear was not realized.  As I held my second born in my arms, I had MORE love.

Love's not a commodity, like cherries, that we use up.  We don't have to dole it out in equal portions.  It's just as we love, we get more love.

I start singing the Magic Penny song.

"Love is like a magic penny,
Hold it tight and ya won't have any,
Lend it, spend it and you'll have so many,
They'll roll all over the floor!"

His question lingers in my mind, though.  Loving God with all my heart.  It requires trust that in doing so, I can love others, too.

It must be so, for the command doesn't stop with loving God wholeheartedly...the second greatest is to love my neighbor as myself.

The second command assumes the truth about love...lend it, spend it, and you'll have so much more.

The boys ask for the song again and then move on to other topics.

Like whether I'd go in a monster cave if I knew I'd be eaten.  And can damselflies fly if they've been submerged in water?

The cherry pitting continues for a little while longer, but something eternal happened too.

Turn Back to Praise

We're headed west with the sun and the sign says one-hundred-and-ninety-two miles till the city near where we live.  I've got some hours of hands on the wheel and this time I need it.

My heart is full and I need some forced sitting time to filter and soak and think and pray.
I'm overfull. 

How does one keep all the wonder and thankfulness and joy within from those surprise gifts that sometimes come one's way?

I share in tears with my husband the beauty of the weekend moments.  He said I needed to blog about it.
But how do I blog about the sacred with out desecrating it?

About the seven and eight year-old niece and nephew baptised with so much of my family standing around in support?  With the two pastors and many others who've been spiritual examples to me nearly all my life?
About the words of that seven year-old boy before the church..."I want to follow Jesus in every circumstance of my life, no matter what happens"?

And how do I even begin to share the depth of emotion when that seven year-old nephew gathers all the family together after a chili lunch for prayer time..."to thank God for this awesome day"?.  When have we ever gathered together except before a meal for a prayer of thankfulness?  A time so poignant and pregnant with emotion part of me wanted to just head on up to heaven right. now.

Because for that moment the world was all as it should be.
Those I love and share blood ties with all were focused on what really matters.
Our perspective was right, holy, pleasing to our Creator.  We were right with each other and right with God.
We experienced a moment in time that will last for eternity.

The echo of words from 3John haunt me..."I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth."
And other words..."a little child shall lead them."

My friend said I need a memento to remind me of that moment...when the world was all as it should be.

I pray with David, as I acknowledge the blessing of the moment, and turn it back to praise...
"Who am I, O Sovereign LORD, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?...How great you are, O Sovereign LORD!  There is no one like you, and there is no one but you, as we have heard with our own ears."

And I boldly pray now, O LORD, that You hear the prayers we prayed that afternoon and answer them fully and completely, that those great-grandchildren would always walk in the paths of God, and that the rest of the great-grandchildren would choose God's ways as well...

"be pleased to bless the house of your servant, that it may continue forever in your sight; for you, O Sovereign LORD have spoken, and with your blessing the house of your servant will be blessed forever."

How does one keep all the wonder and thankfulness and joy within from those surprise gifts that sometimes come one's way?  By turning it back to praise.

text: 2 Samuel 7

35 and Still Alive

I mean my parents' marriage.
My Aunt and Uncle's, too.
Not just, they're still living....

But their marriages are still thriving, growing,
full of life and love and spark.

We decided to party it up...surprise style.
We, my cousins and siblings and I, had seen it done
long ago.  Our grandparents received their own surprise
35th anniversary party when we were young.

I can only say that as we schemed, plotted over e-mail,
worked, created, and decided on endless details, the
end result was better than we'd ever imagined.

I'm so thankful we took the time to do it.

They arrived via limo, still clueless as to what was going on.
We received them at the high school all of us six cousins had
graduated from.  Our dads, too.

Their friends and family made the effort to come.  For they are deeply loved by many.

We ate potluck style.

We celebrated God's goodness to them via slide shows and videos and songs and hilarious skits.

We even got my dad to lead the party in one of his famous camp songs.

Of course there was some fun dancing.

With all the pain and suffering and struggles daily around, even that day our parents attending a funeral for a long-time friend, it's important to stop and celebrate the good things happening, too.

And as my grandpa commented, who twenty-six years ago received his own party, his wife not living to their fortieth anniversary,
"cherish what you have."

A verse in Proverbs 31 kept coming back to me as well....

"her children arise and call her blessed;"

it is a true blessing to get to arise and bless my parents.

The verse in Proverbs 17 has come alive to me:

"Children's children are a crown to the aged,
and parents are the pride of their children."

What's In a Name?

"Time doesn't stop.  Your life doesn't stop and wait until you get ready to start living it."

Hannah Coulter, by Wendell Berry

My childhood was spent on a near thousand-acre farm.

It was a beautiful setting and a wonderful childhood.

I know it was a true and rare gift.  

The temptation is to look back and romanticize it, 

to fill my memories so full of ideal living that I become discontent with my current life.

That's where the name for this little blog came from.

When I was five or six my parents bought us a black and white Shetland pony named Duchess.

They built a pasture for her in front of our farmhouse.

She died my senior year of high school.

All during my school years, she was there.

Though much of the time I ignored her,

every so often I would take a brush and spend an afternoon or evening

grooming her, talking to her, sharing my secrets.

As I grew, I'd use that time to talk to God, Duchess listening in.

I clearly remember one such talk:

The sprinklers on the circles were ticking, their wheels moving with a hum every minute or so.

The birds were singing low, sweet bedtime songs.

The sunset was brilliant in the dusty horizon.

The sweet scents of dirt, water, and crops filled the air.

The shadows and light cast a look over the farm that filled my soul to aching.

I told the Lord I couldn't imagine leaving such a place, 

for I knew I was growing up.

And somehow, deep within, He answered me.

He promised me a beautiful place, much more so than the farm I grew up on.

The acreage would expand forever. 

The beauty would captivate and enthrall in newness each moment.

It would so fill me with joy and gladness I would never 

ache again, for there would be no end.

And so, until then, that day when I cross the river

And all His children join Him,

He shows what He has prepared for us,

I wait in expectation.

Knowing even now,

I have a thousand acres to explore.

His kingdom in and around me.

His grace and goodness hidden in every nook,

each situation.

The acreage looks dramatically different

than my family's farm.

Not even an acre to my name any more.

But the acreage of my life,

in my children, in my husband,

in my family, friends,

in the books I read,

in the people we meet,

in Christ's people here,

in the wisdom God gives,

in the circumstances and situations

always part of living.

This is my thousand acres.

"Blessed are those whose strength is in you

who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.

As they pass through the Valley of Baca,

they make it a place of springs;

the autumn rains also cover it with pools,

They go from strength to strength,

till each appears before God in Zion.

Psalm 84.5-7

*Written because this is the 100th post...and I thought it time to explain.

*Photos of August both at our acreage here and at the family farm.

Building, Part I

I've been thinking about that verse found in Proverbs 14.1:
"A wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears her down."

I've been trying to build that house well, so I can be wise, you know?

Get all the right materials...a good house, healthy food, good books, limit T.V., good music, strong education, proper resources and influences, and, and, and....

I'm tired.  Worn out.  Always feeling like I'm not building well enough.  That there are so many errors, some because I'm ignorant and others because I'm careless or selfish.

Rethinking the verse, though, has made me wonder if it's not so much about the materials as about being wise.

"The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and discipline." Proverbs 1.7.

I think maybe the woman who's building her house is living a life in pursuit of the Lord.  She's seeking wisdom from above, not from a parenting manual or a picture in her head of how things should look.

This morning I accidentally read John 8.9: "At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there."  (I was supposed to be reading John 8.19...)

Yet the verse struck me.  All her accusers were gone.  It was Jesus standing there alone with her and her alone with Jesus.  No one else.  Nothing else.

Then I turned to Ephesians 1, "he decided to make us holy in his eyes, without a single fault--we who stand before him covered with his love."

I am that woman.  I stand before Him covered with His love.

I seek His wisdom and trust by doing so my house will be built, even when I feel like I'm tearing it down with my own hands. 

Seek Him.  Seek wisdom.  And the building will come.

photos: cherry harvest 2011

Where fruit meets faithfulness

The apple.
Fruit, delicious to the tongue, health for the body.  The more thoughtful effort expended to care for the tree--its growth, vitality, protection, needs--the better fruit produced.

The farmer tenderly cares for hundreds of trees...soil, roots, branches, blossoms, fledgling fruit, and fully developed apple.  All through the year.

He rejoices to see good growth, health beaming.  He sorrows when the tree faces diseases, pests, storms, enemies of all kinds.  Carefully the farmer searches out sources of help and tends the trees, working to restore them to full health.

At harvest time, the flawed fruit is tossed aside and the perfect apples are placed in a large bin.  Fit to share with the multitudes worldwide.  Sold for the farmer's livelihood.

Some are kept.  The farmer wants to use his apples for himself, his family, his friends and neighbors.  Others come in and glean from the trees, from the ground.  They're not so choosy...small ones, scarred ones, they can still be enjoyed.

Of course, many stay in the orchard.  Turning slowly back to the soil from which the farmer planted the trees in.



you see we don't try and make dinner the same day we make applesauce...thanks Costco pizza!


But that farmer, he enjoys many delicious foods from his labor.  Applesauce, jarred up to savor all year long. Pies, salads, treats, and even cider.

cleaning



cutting



tossing



crushing





pulp to be squeezed




churning



He labors in harvest and then returns home to labor at preparing a party.  Many come, celebrating the harvest with a cider press and dinner replete with bonfire.  Washing, cutting, tossing, churning, pressing, pouring, and finally drinking!

He delights in seeing the smiles, sharing his bounty in this way.

And some would say it's time for rest.  But not yet.  He cleans up the party, goes back to his orchard for a second round of picking, and continues caring for the needs of his trees.

All the while, he's helping in the corn fields bringing in the harvest, caring for his aging father, playing his trumpet at worship in church, serving his equally hard-working wife, patting his elderly dog, and observing all the good gifts the LORD of the Harvest offers.

A faithful life speaks louder than many true words.

...However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?


photos: fall visit to the farm, text: Luke 18.8b