I pack my bags in a house all alone.  The kids are tucked safely in at Grandma's and the Farmer is busy plowing tall corn stalks right down to the ground, stripping them bare of that golden kernel. I am not exactly sure why I am going - or why I feel Him leading me this way.  A rural farm girl flying alone to Pennsylvania.  I wonder tonight if this is more about the journey than the destination.   I was more brave when I wrote in obscurity.  When I struck out … [Read more...]

The red of the tomato stands boldly against the green vines and the still-green flesh of the tomatoes surrounding it.  My seven-year-old is lured by the red luster and motions for me to help her tug it from the vine.  I tell her we have to let it be. "But it is ready, isn't it?  It looks ripe."  I nod and respond, "it is ripe, but do you see what's around it?"  She looks back at the plant, and laughs how the tomato is all caged in by the … [Read more...]

  I shake my head, frustrated.  How can it be that in one of the worst droughts in the Midwest, the weeds grow tall and green?  Grass everywhere dying.  Corn not filling the husks. We have been praying for rain.  And waiting.  And praying.  And the Lord has decided it shall not come.  We learn to find contentment in the midst of not having control, and to surrender that-which-will be to His sovereign will.  But really, do those weeds have to … [Read more...]

  I was the one who would show up in a fancy dress and sneakers.  I remember my mom telling me how my kindergarten teacher made the comment that I would come to school so cute and by the end of the day...well, I wouldn't be.  I played tag hard and tumbled, and raced across monkey bars.  I never cared if my shoes got dirty or if my hair was still braided, or if red Kool-Aid stained my new light-blue dress. But I am realizing more and more that my inability to … [Read more...]

I work quickly, moving the mop back and forth across the 1920's wood floor.  The same wood floor we worked day and night refinishing before the first baby was born.   That was four babies ago, and now finding time just to wash them seems impossible sometimes.   But there, something catches my eye and brings me to an abrupt halt.  There in the gleam of the light, is the outline of a little tiny footprint - one left by the baby moving to toddlerhood.  The same … [Read more...]

  I sit on hands and knees, a paint scraper in hand. Back and forth I work the paint off of these old boards - laid down in the 1920's. Three hours of laying down paint remover, waiting and scraping, has turned into a bigger job than I had planned. It was only after a third of it was done that I realized it. It didn't matter how clean the boards were, or whether I put paint or stain on top, we would still be left with the same old boards - boards that have warped with … [Read more...]