I Did It Again, And He Will Too

Every year it comes around, but somehow as the years accumulate, it gets sneakier.
I was never good at remembering, and with the increased complexity and demands of all that I've been given in this life, I'm only getting worse.

Seems like it should help me that it's the same day, the same month, every time, without fail.

Bam! There it is.  A huge red ring might have been drawn around the date, but the calendar square is accusingly empty.

First, I struggle with remorse.  The "shoulds" try to move in.
I should have programmed it on my phone, monthly, weekly, hourly reminders.
I should have shopped ahead, bought a card, signed, addressed, stamped, and then put a card in an accordion file near the door to make it easy to drop a perfect sentiment in the mailbox, flag up.
I should be a better - oh, whatever, go ahead and fill in the blank.

Then, the fussy neighbor "shouldn't" tries to move in too.
I shouldn't be so forgetful.
I shouldn't be so distractible.
I shouldn't waste so much time.
I shouldn't - well, the endings are endless.

The ongoing struggle for mental and emotional real estate doesn't seem to affect the outcome.
It snuck up again, and I'm unprepared.

The ache of wishing I'd been something I've not is heightened because my circle on the calendar follows his at the stroke of midnight.  On the inhale it's his day, on the exhale it's mine. It's hypocritical, because when the big red circle on the calendar should be for me, I wrestle with feeling unloved if it gets forgotten, or necessarily pushed lower on the priority ladder.  I secretly hope for my day to be made much of, and by extension, me too. I love parties, and presents, and feasts, and gifts of words...The very things I wish I could (or is it would?) extend to the one(s) I love.

He's never made a big deal of it.  In fact, my mom, who always made a big deal of us, makes very little of him when it's his turn.  She would probably like to, but he would probably prefer her to not.  The day and its honoree is not ignored, it's just kept pretty quiet. A nearby sister will likely generously open her home, or bring a little something to him, and grandkids will be a blessing.  He won't be entirely left alone.

When I call and confess that I missed another Hallmark moment, he won't waver in reassuring that it doesn't trouble him in the least that there's not going to be a commemorative piece of cardstock in his mailbox. But, still I feel it, some sense of having failed.

So, why this discomfort?
Truthfully, I don't know.
I wonder if it's because our close days threaten me a little - if it's so easy to forget him, is it easy to forget me? Consumed with thoughts of myself I don't recognize him? This only partially fits, but selfishness often plays a principle role in my shortcomings.
Maybe all it is can be summed up as false guilt, and I'm a little bit prone to being its victim, so the familiar cloud looms closer.
And, although those are likely both true, I think it might be something else.

I think it's the messy grace of it.

We're broken, imperfect, lacking people and we disappoint ourselves and one another.
And we fail.  Really big.  Many times I've done greater harm than being tardy with a card.  I've judged harshly.  Elevated knowledge above love.  Demanded with selfish gain in view, not caring what it cost.  I've required much grace.

And in spite of the mess I am, or the mess I create, he just, in his imperfect but proven way, gives me grace and loves me.

And the angst comes because I don't deserve it. Grace or love.
I know, because I've lived it myself, parents don't require children to do anything to be loved.
Parent love is profoundly powerful.
But, still, the longer I parent, the more I know we, (my children, I, any of us), do not deserve to be loved.

We make deep unlovable grooves in our track record of relationship.

And still, he loves the undeserving.

I don't imagine that writing this is better than a cake, a present, or a thoughtfully chosen and timely sent card.
But, it is my offering on this day.
My discomfort brings me up against my mess.
I profess it publically with words and images.

And he meets my mess with love and grace. Again.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Thanks for fathering well, and for helping me know in your way, the abundance of grace and love that is ours in Christ Jesus, who has saved us from both from the undeserving heap of mess that is you and me, and has redeemed us through His deep love.

xoxo,
Laura

Of Life and Lists

The list making has been shoved to the background.

What was once a regular practice has been consumed by the trips into town, the overdue books at the library, the garden harvesting, the buying school supplies, the gritty relationship work of staying right married and parenting with as much grace as you can bear to receive and then pour out.

 The animals don't demand, but they depend.

The supper doesn't come to the table by itself and the cupboards stay bare until by an act of the will, you plan, go get the goods, load them up again and grit your teeth to muster up a depth of gratitude that reflects the items present on the shelf rather than their blindingly fleeting nature.

And in all of this being, doing, planning, living- the giving of thanks and the writing of lists has been consumed by - all the above and so much more.

Today, just three things.
A beginning, middle, and end.

Re-entry.
Remembering.
Redeeming.

1.  Early rising and being filled with Truth and Hope for the day.
2. New beginnings - of lists and days.
3. I am His. (Christ's).


Thank you Ann for helping so many to chronicle gifts and for living out grace.
Linking up to A Holy Experience today...
(A long abandoned practice that called forth the time and effort today,and I am blessed)






xoxo,

Laura

Seeds of Encouragement

All summer we've been getting ready.

Soaking in sun, quiet days, fun, rest, and family time has prepared the soil.

Today, many of us load children on buses, wake our home educated kids up to alarms, crack open the books, and begin to till.

And we plant.

We're purposing to cultivate minds.

Increase in knowledge.

Bear fruit in understanding.

Harvest an abundance of wisdom.

So, today - and every day, may your learning be profitable, and your pastures lush with hope that in due season, you may reap.

xoxo,
Laura

Falling off my Bicycle

Has it happened to you?

You've been enjoying a bike ride for quite awhile and you're in the groove. You hit a bump in the road, maybe get distracted by something along the way, you swerve, and - Bam! You're wiping the gravel with your body.

Trying to get upright as quickly as you can, you raise your woozy head, start brushing the grit away, and start to think about whether you'd like to give that 'ol bicycle another try.

The object and activity now seem perilous.

And then you hear your mother's voice, " You get right back up on that bicycle, honey.  Everybody falls, but not everybody learns to get back on the saddle and ride again.  Take courage dear one - you'll be okay!"

If writing is like bike riding, I'm trying to get back at it.

Metaphorically, I've fallen off my bike in a myriad of ways this summer.  I've already alluded to the necessity of attending to family life and relationships, and that takes an astonishing amount of extra energy and time.

But, there's been other things- not bad things- that have made the ride adventuresome and found me wiping dirt out of my knees more than once.

Double the size of your garden, praise the Lord for plenteous rain, plant row upon row, and Voila! you've tripled your work in the sun and soil, but also in the kitchen.

Partner with your Weekend Farmer Hubby in installing a new range, car repairs, emergency electric fence interventions, chasing cows back home,  a professional day job, raising and processing hundreds of chickens, fundamentally preparing to change how you've home educated, and by the time an amber sunset spills itself over the pastures, you're beyond tired and can think only of bed and the restoration of sleep. I couldn't write a sentence if I tried.

Fun things like mini weekend vacations, a standing Thursday playday at the lake, 's'mores night on Wednesday, campouts in the yard that turn into extended sleepovers, outdoor swimming lessons - you know, the things that can only happen in summer - have been filling our days.

Add in driver's training, full time work for the oldest farm boys, races to spectate, mission trips to pray for, "mom, I hope it's ok, but I've made a plan for..." somewhat regularly from the teens/young adult offspring.  Gah!

And, this one's "my fault" - I'm enjoying the creativity, community, and inspiration from Instagram. It's easy to spend five minutes here, two minutes there...it adds up.

In the end, my brain is spinning, not my wheels.
And I can't keep upright.

So, what do I say to all this, dear friends?  What is your counsel to me as a writer? As a friend on this same journey?

I think I know.
Whenever I can, and for however long I can, dust this keyboard off, and ride. Uhm. Write.
It's not just for writers, correct?  It's for all of us who endeavor to do the next thing, try something big, cultivate new skills, or seize opportunities.

Just like those of you who've ever enjoyed a bike ride, when the time is right, you'll pick up where you left off, it'll all come back, and although the risk of falling is always present, you'll spend more time on the road than in the gravel.

Me too.

Ride on.

xoxo,
Laura

It's all so Daily

Long before her art and style became internationally recognized and quickly popular, I had collected a few prints of Mary Engelbreit's work. Her lively, whimsical, and color saturated style has always been appealing to me and when combined with my first love, words, the draw remains irresistible.

Many moons ago she released a calendar with the title, "Life is just so Daily".  True Dat.

Image found here.

I may or may not appear to be and actually function in a less frazzled manner than the image suggests, but nonetheless, this picture and these words resonate!

Continual adjustment to this season of two adult, two teen, one elementary, and one preschool age offspring in our home challenges me to my outer limits.  But, please, oh please, do not hear that as negative.  It is a JOY to share these days with them.  

Family life, farm life, professional life - all of these currents ride like rapids and the thrill factor is high.  As you might imagine, life as a constant white water ride requires all our attention.

Fortunately, in all this "dailiness" it's easy to snap photos along the way.

Confession - I haven't taken pictures of the messy barn, the boys laundry pile teetering over six feet high in the corner of their bedroom (so not kidding), the overflowing kitchen sink, or the stinky pile of shoes right inside the back door.

You all know about that stuff, right?

I wouldn't withhold it from you if you really want to see it.  I am never ashamed or wishing to hide the impact of our daily life.

But, we do get to choose what we think about, yes?

I have a tendency toward the negative.  I'm critical.  I am too quick to judge.

And I miss beautiful messes.

When I miss the beautiful mess, I miss all the other kinds of beauty.

The camera keeps me connected, and helps me to see tiny but real slices of our life and the breathtaking beauty of an abundant life.

Join in, won't you?  Savor the light.  Drink deep of the colors.  Remember these sweet fleeting days, and let the images cultivate gratitude for the beauty of the earth, the glory of the skies, the undeserved gifts of relationship, and the grace upon grace that persists at Liberty Farm.

xoxo,

Laura

Pssst- might you like to follow along on Instagram? It's a fun easy way to stay connected in all this dailiness!

She Wakes! (And little glimpses of life on Liberty Farm)

I don't even know if I can understand or explain my absence here.

I ache with it.  I snatch at fragments of time, and even those slip through my fingers.
The blog sleeps, but I dream of writing.

I have words oozing out my pores - I imagine myself as some sort of X-men mutant,with newsprint for skin and a haze of dangling participles billowing in my personal space just waiting to make sense and arrange themselves into readable thoughts.

And, yet I do not write.
Not for lack of interest or writers block.
Today - enough!
Seizing the moment, I wake in this space, and offer up a paltry but grateful handful of sentences.

I can surmise that a busy spring on this Green Acres has left me with hundreds of photos and no time to chronicle with words.

I suppose the increasing demands of Weekend Farmer Husband's employment and the busyness of my older children keeps me cooking, cleanin', and running the show rather than journaling.

And, there's been an eruption of relational needs.  And they've been painful.  And hard. And suffocating.  And I'm okay, and so is the farm family, our faith being further forged, and God acting in love and the constancy of His character has preserved us. But, there's no margin so only the necessary is accomplished.

Even so, life marches on.
And it's good.

The farm flourishes and the season is flush with it's fullness.

Spring is in wild bloom, it came late and after the preceding year's extreme drought and heat, we savor long.

Understanding that this too shall pass, I stop, write it down, give thanks and carry on.
xoxo,

Laura

***(Consider following me on Instagram?  It's a lovely way to keep up, grow friendship, and share community.)***

The Little Room that Does it All

You know it's true.

I've started a number of projects on this lil' ol' blog and have a handful of them just waiting for me to get back to and call it a wrap.

There's the time the cows came home.  But, first, they ran away.  I've only written Part I. I've been told it's moooo-ving.  Right.

Libby got a facelift. I promised a nice set a spell on the front porch with photos.  But then I painted the front door.  And I don't like how it turned out.  I haven't re-painted it.  So we wait.

January, the month of beginnings, brought the start of a mini series about personal finances.

And, if my math is right, I'm still short five out of 31 Days of Green Acres.

Here's how this all fits together.
I'm doing a little "housecleaning"- for real, and in my blog content.
Spring has been long in coming and winter needs clearing out.
So, as I sort, purge, reorganize, and get new projects started, I'm evaluating many of my loose ends.

Turns out that more than once I've said I'd offer a photo tour of this old farmhouse, but have only posted scattered images.

And, I've been participating all along over at Edie's:

Here's the connection.

Today's link up is about our homes.  What have we been doing to live more intentionally in our houses, apartments, townhomes, and yurts.  

Well, I haven't seen anybody link up with a yurt, but that would be way awesome!

So, would you like to come on in? Not only do I long to be more hospitable, today's link up offers an opportunity to purposefully make good on one of too many unfulfilled commitments.

I've got one space in particular I've been working on since September.  Yup, for for-eveh.

We have a zero budget decorating policy around these parts, so everything you see is thrifted, a dumpster score, or built in our shop.  

And, when I say that, it makes me giggle that I've given this space a name with such gravitas.

The Library.

She doesn't take herself all that seriously.

Furthermore, it is not lost on me that she doesn't hold that many books.

But, that's what we named her when we moved in and it stuck.

She's an office, therapy center, conference room, reading nook, coloring space, filing center, refuge, retreat, sick room, and music room.

Early mornings she and I settle into each other for prayer, scripture reading, coffee, and contemplation.

At midday she graciously accepts more stacks of paper to be added to my helter skelter administrative system.

Evenings she welcomes me to write, talk with kids or Weekend Farmer Hubby, and often catch up on email and social media.

She's a jack of all trades and is gracious enough to be master of none.

Warm.

Colorful.

Formerly a bedroom.

Still a work in progress.

\

Two final images for you:

The final frontier- once I've sorted a few other areas, these shelves will be full of handy books and supplies for home education.  Oh yeah- I forgot.  I'm on the lookout for the perfect light fixture.  The bare bulb just isn't rocking my world.  But, it does light my world.

And, lastly, a nod to the master ( tee- hee )!

Tell me, where've you seen this before?

xoxo,
Laura