A prayer for despair.

Take your right hand and make a first. Now take your left hand and make a fist. Crash your knuckles into each other, opening your palms as your hands spread away from each other.

This is the spirit world. Every day, every minute, every second. Good and evil are clashing, brawling and fighting for territory on earth.

When bad things happen, it looks like evil is winning. Everyone talks about the evil, thinks about the evil and fears the evil.

“How can we fight the evil?” we ask. “What can we do to make this better?”

But dear friends, we alone are not capable of this fight. We will crumple in sadness and despair at the hopelessness of this fleeting world.

The boldest response to evil is prayer.

We don’t need more programs, rules or regulations. We need more shouts and cries to God for his Kingdom to come quicker to our world.

God save us. Save our world. Save our friends and our neighbors. Show us what to do next for your Kingdom.

Backs and Babies

I just started putting the baby on my back. I celebrate this milestone that allows me to bend over again.

A baby on the back reminds me of the first summer here in this spacious place, carting Sol around while we learned to tend animals.

It’s hard to believe we’ve cared for two babies in this place now, but not harder than believing I have four children. Others have shared a similar sentiment and the surprise over how my life has turned out is often written in the fine lines of a friend’s face. I don’t blame them, this wild, free, chaotic life is not something I could have imagined.

Today I saw a picture from when we only had one son. A time when we thought we would only have one son, that we were a one and done kind of people like my parents and grandparents before me. Generational only-childness.

I think back to some of my happiest childhood memories spent with my best friend and her siblings. I loved her house, it was loud and full of life. My house was quiet, dull, and often lonely.

I should have known this is the course I would subconsciously crave.

Naturally, as I’m talking about a loud life the baby woke up and as I went in to do my signature bounce/sway back to sleep I felt extremely privileged to hold this entire body in my hands and care for her with the depth of my love. I don’t often feel this way, especially about a waking child at night.

Lately I’ve been having these amazing experiences with God. There’s been these moments of clarity in which I’ve felt more in tuned with His will and Spirit than ever before and it’s incredible. Then the feelings go away for a couple of weeks and I worry I’ll never feel them again. It feels so good that I never want that communion to cease. I want to greedily hold onto it forever and ever, and then I remember that is what Heaven will be and I relax a little. I am so grateful that we get to touch His kingdom here on earth.

I have such a hard time ending these posts because I don’t have a point or a clear line of thought. It’s a rambling bunch of thoughts that come to me as I’m typing. I do pray that God lead me before every one of these posts and, while I don’t think every word is divinely inspired, I can feel his gentle presence with me as I write. I pray that others feel pushed outside of the “normal” realm of worship and prayer, and are inspired by how wide and deep God’s kingdom is. These writings are extremely cathartic to me and give me great joy.

What are the things that give you a feeling of great joy deep within your chest? Dive in.

Solar Dye

The boys and I have been experimenting with plant dyeing the past couple of weeks.  We left butternut hulls, chestnut hulls and goldenrod in the sun for a couple of days, strained and then left some fabric swatches in the solution for another couple of days and found these gorgeous colors emerge.

I will be doing a big pot of butternut hulls soon because that olive green is amazing.

The wonder of unfailing love.

(October 2015)

The wood clears
making room once again
for time on the log
just past our line down
the hill in the holler
next to where the barely creek
trickles by.

The outside world is nonexistent
in this place,
deafened by the hills and the trees.
Or so I thought, until the
voice of an announcer at a
nearby park trickled in.
Oh well.

I come here because I am
anxious and this seems like
the best self care for me.
A pen, paper, and the quiet.
Nothing can distract me but
God’s glory- and Harvey’s crunching.

Plagued with indecision and
the inability to stick to
a path and just be content.

Should I? Should I? Should I?

So I try and rest.

I leave the dishes.
The boys watch TV
and I walk.
Walk past the toys that need
picked up.
Crunch through the leaves
that need raked.
I come to the place where the leaves belong to, even benefit,
the earth and the toys don’t need put away.

Back up I sit on my knees
looking at the sugar maple next
to the house.

How far God went to fulfill
His promise to us- He even
threw in the deep desires of my
heart. A sugar maple that
will blaze a fiery orange
every fall.
A reminder of His unfailing love.

 

Theo’s Story

**Theo started building this fort in the spring and worked on it all summer.  He will be taking it down in the next few days so he wrote a story and took some pictures to remember it by.**

 

Theo’s Storrey

I bilte a fort and it wuse garart.
I bilte it bi my slof.
I had deun it garart.
It wouse the beste.
Sind by Theo

 


Theo’s story

I built a fort and it was great.
I built it by myself.
I had done it great.
It was the best.

Signed by Theo

 

Dreaming.

I wanted to eat at The Bridge for lunch today.

A wave of heavy grief rolled in. Sadness that it’s over, relief that it’s over.

Over the past year I’ve slowly shed parts of my former life. I told myself that homesteading wasn’t important, that vacations weren’t for us, that sewing and the creative life aren’t necessary.  We had to be able to do The Bridge with all our hearts.

But, I am beginning to realize some of these things are important, and are us. The values of tending the land and of creating new things are integral for our family and community.

It has left me picking up the pieces of a shattered former life and trying to figure out what sticks. I am not the same person I was a year ago. I am stronger.

Dreaming. It’s exciting.