About God

When my three year old Dandelion asks where and who God is, I read this to her because it is an eloquent and age-appropriate description of things that are difficult to articulate:
My Little Golden Book About God, 
by Jane Werner Watson.
Illustrated by Eloise Wilkin

GOD IS GREAT

Look at the stars in the evening sky, so many millions of miles away
that the light you see shining left its star
long, long years before you were born.

Yet even beyond the farthest star, God knows the way.
Think of the snow-capped mountain peaks.
Those peaks were crumbling away with
age before the first people lived on earth.
Yet when they were raised up sharp and new
God was there too.

Bend down to touch the smallest flower.
Watch the busy ant tugging at his load.
See the flash of jewels on the insect's back.
This tiny world your own two hands could span,
like the oceans and mountains and far off stars,
God planned.

Think of our earth spinning in space....
so that now, for a day of play and work
we face the sunlight, then we turn away--
to the still, soft darkness for rest and sleep.
This, too, is God's doing.

For GOD IS GOOD.

God sends the sunshine to make things grow,
sends in its turn the needed rain.

God makes us grow, too, with minds and eyes
to look about our wonderful world,
to see its beauty, to feel its might.

He gives us a small, still voice in our hearts
to help us tell wrong from right.
God gives us hopes and wishes and dreams,
plans for our grown-up years ahead.

He gives us memories of yesterdays,
so that happy times and people we love
we can keep with us always in our hearts.
For GOD IS LOVE.

God is the love of our mother's kiss,
the warm strong hug of our daddy's arms.

God is in the love we feel for playmates and family and friends.

When we're hurt or sorry or lonely or sad,
if we think of God, He is with us there.

God whispers to us in our hearts;
'Do not fear, I am here,
And I love you, my dear....'

A remedy to envy

I'm in the midst of reading a book by Ann Voskamp called "One Thousand Gifts."

I usually read fast so it's unusual for me that I've been in the midst of reading it since Thanksgiving.

This book is a challenge for me.  And as I sit and read it today, I'm discovering why I can only read a few pages at a time.

It isn't the prose, which are lyrical and evocative of the delicate things of motherhood, farm life, life in Christ and marriage.

It isn't the pain Voskamp continues to recount and lament, episodes which are, to be sure, emotional to read.

I think this book is difficult for me to read because of the moments of deep recognition that I feel on each page.  Painful recognition of my lack, my need, my disappointments, my envies.

Voskamp is a mother of six, a farm wife, an author, a Christian, an advocate for children in need.

It took me a while to listen to her voice because she is many things I am and more things I wish I could be.

Oh the irony.

Because Voskamp's book is about living a life of eucharisteo, of giving thanks.  
Envy might just be the opposite of thankfulness.  Perhaps many sins are.

For me, envy is not green. Green calls newness, life and rebirth to the mind's eye.
Envy is the pallor of yellow-grey that whispers over the facelessness of things that decay.
It is the depletion of life, empty of faithfulness and regeneration.

The problem with envy is that it focuses on the lacks, the could-haves and the wish I dids.  Because it isn't grateful, it is a self-fulfilling evil.

Voskamp says, (of the feeding of the 5000), "Jesus embraces His not enough...He gives thanks...And there is more than enough...Eucharisteo always, always precedes the miracle.  And who doesn't need a miracle like that every day?...Thanksgiving creates abundance; and the miracle of multiplying happens when I give thanks..."

Where envy turns upon itself in a cycle of nothingness,
Gratitude engenders plentitude.


I think many of us feel envy.  But it's an ugly thing to confess.  
Well, here is my confession: I'm an envy addict.  


And my first step to getting sober? Give thanks, give thanks, give thanks.

Motherhood as liturgy

In her book, A Circle of Quiet, Madeleine L’Engle speaks about the daily workings of life at her farmhouse Crosswicks.  Since we’ve moved to our Mennonite farming community and I’ve learned all sorts of new tasks like canning and preserving food and raising chickens, I found a kindred spirit in her musings on housework and the need for her own quiet spaces:

“Cooking is the only part of housekeeping I manage with any grace; it’s something like writing a book: you look in the refrigerator and see what’s there, choose all the ingredients you need, and a few your husband thinks you don’t need, and put them all together to concoct a dish. Vacuum cleaners are simply something for me to trip over…the sight of a meal’s worth of dirty dishes, pots and pans makes me want to run in the other direction.  Every so often I need OUT… My special place is a small brook in a green glade, a circle of quiet from which there is no visible sign of human beings… I sit for a while, then my impatience, crossness, frustration, are indeed annihilated, and my sense of humor returns.”[i]

Like L’Engle, dishes are the absolute bane of my existence.  Every day after lunch, I look over to my kitchen counters filled with dishes since the evening before and I give myself a pep-talk.  I can do this.  But perhaps I need a nap first.

Many times, I have longed to find my own circle of quiet.  There are places that I’ve considered:  a bend in the creek when I’ve waded in the middle of the miserable summer heat, a small cemetery where daffodils are the first sign that it’s time to take the mulch off the strawberries, the path up to Blueberry Hill just before it curves and opens up to the rows of fruit.   I’ve found that the space itself is not lacking, only the quiet.  A mother of young children has few moments of quiet.  

But what I am learning is that the work of mothering and housekeeping itself can offer me a liturgical space, not necessarily for quiet but for contentment.   In the Episcopal and Lutheran churches I’ve attended over the years, the liturgy seems designed not for comfort and routine but for struggle and challenge.  A worshipper often knows what to say and what to expect from a service, but if she is present, the knowing offers an opening between the expected words for God to move inside of her. 

This is what I am learning as I wash dishes, cook meals, preserve food, sweep the same dust out of the same spot for the umpteenth time and rinse out my baby's diapers in the toilet.  As I squeeze eyes tight and pray for patience during a double tantrum, as I fit mittens on squirmy hands, as I eat my words about things I said I would never say and do as a parent.  Sometimes these tasks seem impossible, infuriating, unbearable.  Sometimes they are easy.  But because they are always the same, I have the opportunity to focus my imagination between those ritual and seemingly mundane moments and find joy and gratitude in serving and providing and doing good things.  Sometimes it is Martha work but I can try to be Mary at the same time and sit at Jesus’ feet while I make him a meal.

PS Please check out parenting practices at Emerging Mummy and write your own post on parenting if you so choose. Also, check out my dear friend Jessica's blog post on her amazing work with Burmese refugees and how she practices parenting among them.  Love her dearly.

---

[i] L’Engle, Madeleine, A Circle of Quiet, Harper Collins, New York, 1972, pg 3-4.

Love is a miracle

In our adult teaching classes on Sunday morning, we've started a new series from Peacemaker Ministries called Resolving Everyday Conflict.  It is a curriculum of videos, workbooks and Scriptures that aim to teach a Biblical perspective on resolving conflicts, whether it be in our homes, our churches, neighborhoods or places of work.  I'm one of the teachers so I was on to facilitate the discussion last week.  


There were a few things that struck me but one in particular, I've seen play out in sad ways both in my own life and in the life of the church.  


Every one of us has less than perfect ways of dealing with conflict on two ends of the spectrum: Escape (running away or ignoring the problem) or Attack (blame or assault--physical/emotional/verbal). Sometimes we swing between the two ends, ignoring the problem for so long that we become angry and lash out in attack.  Let me say that there are certainly situations like abuse or physical danger when escape in the moment is best.


There are more godly ways of dealing with conflict that will be discussed later in the study but one thing that is often necessary is overlooking another's offense.  When the offense is not harming anyone, forgiveness, not escaping or denying the issues, is key in overlooking.


The problem is that sometimes we tell ourselves that we're overlooking and forgiving the other person's fault when really we're hardening our hearts toward them.  In some cases, perhaps we are trying to be Christ-like, forgetting the conflicts and moving on.  But I've realized that one of the dangers with consistently passing over another's fault in a conflict and choosing not to deal with them directly, is that we neglect to look into our own hearts and admit our weaknesses in these situations.  What we are really overlooking is our own culpability. When we tell ourselves we're forgiving other people in a conflict and we do this over and over, we can begin to see ourselves as having the moral high ground. We tell ourselves, "They are the ones at fault.  I will magnanimously forgive them." If we are doing this repeatedly, 'overlooking' other's offenses in this way, we can place ourselves in the role of victims.  Because they are obviously the ones at fault, I am the one being persecuted.  


There's nothing like facing a person with whom you're in conflict and having him/her point out your fault.  I'm not great at that except perhaps with my husband.  Sometimes we need those moments of humility.  It is painful, but can be a redemptive part of conflict.  


The church is supposed to be a witness to a different kind of love.  We're not always good at that.  But I believe that along with worshipping and praising God, that's what the church is for: we're supposed to take the beauty of our diversity and show that with the love of Christ, these conflicts and differences can unify us.  We can love each other even when we don't like one another.  Christ compels us to turn away from backbiting, attacking, blaming, gossiping, anger, disappointment, disillusionment, slander.  We approach our differences with love and grace, searching for the gift of God in each other, desiring the best for one another.  


I long to learn how to love like this.  And I long for the church to be a place where we fight upstream in earnest, painful, searching love.  With Christ this is possible and it's truly a miracle when it happens.


"Things have been spoken, shouldn't be said/ Rattles around in our hearts and our head/
Let's feel what we cannot feel/Know what we cannot know/Let's heal where we couldn't heal/ 
Oh, it's a miracle, love is a miracle." Sara Groves Miracle


“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13: 34, 35


"Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others." Philippians 2: 3-4

A change of direction

As you might've noticed, this blog has changed direction of late.  I haven't posted any farm-related entries in a few months.  This is partially due to the fact that during winter, not many tangible things happen on the farm that would warrant my limited description.

But there is another more recent reason for my direction change.

And that is this: Farmer decided a few weeks ago that it was time to let go of his management position here on the farm.  It was a very tough decision that caused some stress and hurt both in our lives and in the lives of a few others.  Fortunately, most people were very supportive and understanding of the decision.

It is time for change. But isn't it always?

As for us now, we have the luxury of choice. And I do believe it is a luxury.  We are aware that not everyone has that choice.  So I will try to be thankful for this limbo. We're thriving and not just surviving.  We have a little time.

Farmer looks for jobs and we pray to be open to glorifying God.  We are still at the community with no definite plans to leave.

In the meantime and for the future of this blog, I will probably focus more on my own artistic interests. I realize that I might lose those of you who read this blog because of your interest in farming.  I hope you'll stick around anyway.  I am often reading about food and gardening and I hope to continue growing and preserving our own food in the future.

I love the places of connection between art and theology.  Actually, as a Christian, I believe they are inextricably linked.  The search for God, for meaning and for beauty pervades everything I do and I hope you'll join me on this continued seeking, this often challenging journey through reading, marriage, writing, motherhood, community, food life, and the church (in no particular order).

Blogging can be a lonely pursuit and I don't always know who or if anyone is listening. I welcome your responses, comments, questions, observations.

And maybe some suggestions on what to call Farmer now that he is no longer 'farming' at this particular time (although perhaps he may again someday).

January's Senses

Look:

One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp

Listen:

Gungor, This is not the end

Taste:

Angel Biscuits
from John Besh's My Family Table

Ingredients:
1 package active dry yeast
5 cups all purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
2Tbl baking powder
1 1/2 tsp salt
2 cups buttermilk or sour milk
1 cup (2 sticks) butter

1. Dissolve the yeast in 1/4 cup warm water. Sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large mixing bowl. Add the buttermilk and dissolved yeast and mix well. Using a pastry knife, cut the butter into the mixture.

2. Since this makes a light, fairly wet dough, sprinkle 1/2 cup of flour on the counter before you roll out the dough. Roll out the dough into a rectangle. Fold the two sides in, making a triple layer of dough. Cut the dough into 3-inch circles or squares. Place on a nonstick baking sheet, cover loosely, and refridgerate overnight.

3. The next morning, preheat oven to 400º. Bake for 15-20 minutes until golden brown,

Smell:

Lampe Berger Paris

Touch:

The first snow of winter

A few graces

When my three-year old doesn't have a meltdown because her shirt-sleeves gets bunched up when she puts on a sweater.

When little fingers fit just so into their little places inside little stretchy gloves.

When two munchkins sleep simultaneously in the afternoon, even if it's just for ten minutes.

When Farmer is excited, really truly excited, for the first time in months.

When Little Leaf laughs as he dutifully empties a cabinet of all its grape juice.

When a few hours of nighttime doubting are answered by a morning Psalm.

"As a father has compassion for his children, 

so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him."

Psalm 103:13

"Ask and you will receive, 

so that your joy may be complete."

John 16:24