10 Years Ago Today ...

... I said, "I do." And I still do.

Happy Anniversary, David. So glad you asked!

{this moment}

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{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

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Thanks Amanda @ SouleMama

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Stop "Pampering" Your Feet ... and Pamper Your Whole Body

An interesting article about feet! Seems like an oxymoron, but check this out ... Nature's Magic Bullet ... astounding.

Take a look at what Renee at FIMBY has to say on the subject, too.

And a shout out to Jack ... I love my "DIY Barefoot Sandals" from XeroShoes! Now that it is a little warmer, I wear them almost every day, rain or shine.

Shadow

This is Shadow, Nathan's new puppy!

She's part black lab, part belgian shepherd,

and will be joining our family on July 12th.

We can't wait for you to come home, little Shadow!

Moving Toward Simplicity ... Again!

It has been almost three months. How did that happen? Three months ago, we moved to Canada. One room is mostly empty, another is full of boxes. The walls are still somewhat bare. Where have the last three months gone?

Three years is going to pass SO QUICKLY! We may be here longer, but for now it is a three year deal. Unless ... well, just unless life happens, which it tends to do. The question becomes one of priorities. Just how important is it to stop the living of each day that goes by to unpack a box containing stuff that you don’t miss, therefore probably don’t need.

Yes, the answer is to get rid of it! That’s an approach I can get behind. I’ve been thinking about the unpacking thing all wrong. So today, I begin. One of these boxes, or all of them, will become the “give away” box. Equal distribution of wealth (or junk, as it may be) to whoever has a need, or a want, or is in the habit of collecting stuff that someone else no longer wants. Whatever the motivation, time to downsize, again.

I’ve been stressing about filling all this space. This home is much larger than our little 700 sq ft apartment we moved from. “Stressing about filling”? What has happened to me? I think I’ve lost a little of me in the transfer. Time to relocate me, and put her into action.

So ... this has become about another one of my favorite mantras. “Sometimes more is just more.” Watch out honey! Baton down the hatches, or I may decide that they are an unnecessary source of added stress! And, truth be known, I love the empty room!

Three years IS going to pass by quickly. I don’t think I’ll waste it trying to integrate a bunch of stuff I’ve lived without for the last three months. Seems like a waste of time.

{this moment}

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{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

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Thanks Amanda @ SouleMama

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"O Canada"

On July 1, 1980, a proclamation declared "O Canada" the Canadian National Anthem. Written slightly more than 100 years prior (composed by Calixa Lavallée / french lyrics by Sir Adolphe-Basile Routhier), originally in French, it became the national anthem on Canada Day thirty-three years ago. As we approach Canada Day 2013, let's pay tribute to this beautiful anthem.

O Canada (click here to listen)

Olive Trees

It has happened to me twice in the last year. And before that time, I can't remember it ever happening. As I was spending time reading God's word, meditating on it, and talking with Him about it, He gave me the reference to a verse in His word. Now, I've been around scripture long enough that the popular verses are usually familiar to me. I know what type of words to expect from certain places in the Bible, and I'm friendly with my concordance. I've spent hours pouring over a certain topic, or trying to find a certain verse. But only twice can I remember a reference in scripture that I didn't know coming into my head during the quiet moments.

Feeling insecure in this new place, I was thinking on sheltering under the Eagle's wings and resting on the Rock of Ages ... and I thought, "Psalm 52:8." What is Psalm 52:8, I wondered, and upon searching, found this:

But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God;

I trust in God's unfailing love for ever and ever.

Psalm 52:8 (NIV)

Now, I'm a Bible scribbler. I've tried to break the habit. I've tried to keep the pages clean of my thoughts, but I must confess. I am a Bible scribbler. The pages of my Bible are covered with thoughts, comments from other sources, cross references, little drawings (like a little sheep every time I come across something to do with us being sheep), etc. Underlinings. Stars. Exclamation marks. They're all there. But, Psalm 52:8 hadn't a single mark. No notes. Nothing. I know I had read it on one of my trips through the Bible in a year, but that's it. And there it sat.

I started to wonder about the significance of an olive tree, so I did a little research and found several things of interest. First, in appearance. Olive trees are gnarled and twisted. They show the signs of some internal need to convulse and writhe. Sounds like me. I certainly tend to fight life instead of resting in it. Peace is not a natural posture for me, but God lays it on my life with great patience.

Olive trees are evergreen. Their lives go through cycles with the seasons, as with any tree, but they stay green and beautiful. When I am "trusting in God's unfailing love," the green of my life is evident, regardless of the struggles or changes. God's beauty flows through me.

Fifteen years is a long time, in the world of human existence and in the world of gardening. It takes dedication and perseverance to care for a plant for fifteen years. Only after that time does an olive tree produce a good harvest. Fifteen years! How long has God carried me, pruned me and nurtured me with dedication and perseverance, waiting for the fruitful harvest?

I read that mature olive trees can withstand a temperature drop to -8°C for short periods of time. Their root system has to be protected from freezing. Hmmm ... seems that I could survive anything as long as I am firmly rooted in God, His love, His word. Anything. Since the dove brought Noah an olive branch after the flood, we can assume that an olive tree even survived the destructive power of the flood. Anything.

So perhaps in my moments of insecurity, God's message is simple. His unfailing love lasts forever. Resting in that, trusting in the complete and unwavering truth of His love ... there I will flourish. 

But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God;

I trust in God's unfailing love for ever and ever.

Psalm 52:8 (NIV)

So thankful. So blessed.

Want more on Olive Trees and faith? Take a look at PRAY 4 ZION's article, Lessons from the Olive Tree.

Just What are Muckin’ Boots for?

Until a couple of months ago, I had never heard of Muckin’ Boots. Then, rather suddenly, the term “muckin’ boots” became a regular phrase in my daily vocabulary. 

“Don’t forget to put on your muckin’ boots!” 

“Wear your muckin’ boots today!” 

“Where did you put your muckin’ boots?” 

“Where are MY muckin’ boots?” 

“Why do you need two pairs of muckin’ boots?” 

(My personal favorite!)

*** By the way, for my grammar conscious friends. I just did a little searching as to whether it is "two pair" or "two pairs" and found that "two pairs" is actually grammatically correct. Whew! My college education at work! ***

In suburban Colorado, there absolutely was no need for muckin’ boots. And this suburbia mamma has spent very little time on a farm. Yet, here I am in Canada, living on a little farm, wearin' my muckin’ boots! I’m so thankful them! Live and learn.

Mine are blue paisley, by the way.

{this moment}

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{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

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Thanks Amanda @ SouleMama

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Gardening ... Anyone have an Idiot’s Guide?

I dreamed of it! I yearned for it! I thought about it, planned for it, and now, I have it. A little kitchen garden. And I have absolutely no idea what to do with it!

Anyone have an Idiot’s Guide?

They say you can grow anything here. We'll see if "they" know what they are talking about. Here’s to trying something new, succeeding, failing, growing, and learning ...

Expectations

According to Merriam-Webster,

"expectation" is defined as

"the act or state of expecting: anticipating"

"to expect" is

"to wait, stay, to look forward"

"to anticipate" means

"to look forward to as certain"

As certain. I've been thinking lately about expectations. Having expectations seems to imply something significant for me. It is a sense of entitlement. I believe that I have the right, and therefore establish expectations based on those rights.

Think on this. I believe that I'm entitled to a day of peace after a long week. I expect the day to be without conflict and difficulty. When life interferes with my plans, my expectations are dashed, and peace whisks away in the combustion of the moment. But I'm entitled, right? I work hard for everyone in my life everyday. This is MY day. A down day. A peaceful rest. Or maybe it isn't a day, but an hour. Or a few moments. I deserve at least that, don't I? One twist, one moment of failed expectation, and I'm robbed. Robbed of all I anticipated. Robbed of my peace. Robbed.

Or am I? What if robbed isn't the right expression? Maybe what is whisked away in the moment is not peace, but me. I fly away on the wings of entitlement. I've attempted to grasp the un-grasp-able through my unreasonable expectations. And I lose.

Peace is fragile. It is not there for the taking, a goal to achieve, but instead it is a gift that can be mine only if I lay down my expectations and selfishness. Only mine when I rest in the unknown of every moment, and the faith that God knows, even when I don't. The not-knowing becomes the expectation, the journey one of faith, and the destination a surprise. And my companion along the way ... peace.

The Chicken Coop

Chickens. I remember when I was a kid. My great uncle had a HUGE chicken house, the kind with rows and rows of chickens in cages, with a horrible stench and feathers everywhere. One year, a tornado came through, and it was nothing but horrible stench and feathers everywhere. Maybe some of them got free!

And now, there is the movement toward homesteading. Books about turning your neighborhood house into a mini homestead are everywhere. And you can’t look for any information about gardening and urban homesteading without hearing about chickens! It is a growing fad, somewhat like the Victory Garden was a while back. But the term “fad” has a negative, temporary connotation. This isn’t a temporary movement. Like the Victory Garden, backyard chickens are here to stay. They just make sense.

Have you ever tasted an egg from a real live chicken? Go ahead, laugh. I know that all chicken eggs come from real live chickens. But you know what I mean. Eggs that have never been refrigerated. Eggs that come straight from the chicken to the kitchen, to your plate, to your taste buds, to your belly. My first known experience with fresh eggs (not sure if I ever had such as a kid) was while staying in an earthship in Taos, NM. If you are not familiar with earthships, they are worth the time to peruse the website. Sustainability. A kinship with the earth. Simplicity or great complexity, it is your choice. Nonetheless, staying in an earthship with chickens in a little mini earthship-like structure in the yard was my first experience with straight-from-the-chicken eggs. Amazing!

The yokes are more firm, and a richer orange if the chickens have had the chance to eat greens from the yard. A warm egg cooks up perfectly. The shells are thinner; the whites release from the side of the shell without any convincing. Absolutely delicious. Backyard chickens can give you a relatively unlimited supply. I wish for that kind of beginning to everyday!

So, chickens. On this little farm, there is a chicken coop. Now, the coop hasn’t been used for several years, and until a couple of weeks ago was buried in a blackberry bramble. You know the story of Brer Rabbit, how he goes into the brambles? I’ve never had an appreciation for what that meant. But now, wow. How did he manage in there? 

On a side note, I saw a bunny escape from our dog into the blackberry brambles the other day. They must know a secret!

David has spent hours clearing the brambles to get to the chicken coop. He’s now getting ready to replace the roof, and clear more brambles. A little bit of new chicken wire, roosting boxes, and an education on the care of chickens, and we’ll be ready to go.

Then, the perfect eggs.

Until we are ready, we’re buying eggs from a little farm down the road. Not still warm, but still fresh. Nearly perfect.

{this moment}

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{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . .

Thanks Amanda @ SouleMama

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Tom Brokaw Explains Canada to Americans

Just came across this clip from coverage of the Vancouver Olympics in 2010. For my friends in the USA. Enjoy!

Tom Brokaw Explains Canada to Americans

Teaching US History Away from US Soil

Back last summer, as with most homeschooling families, we came up with a plan for the school year. Nathan is in 4th grade this year. Too astounding is the idea that I’ll be teaching him 5th grade next year. Then middle school? I get ahead of myself.

Since we began to homeschool, US history has been an integral part of our curriculum. We don't study it all the time, but in blocks called Unit Studies, which can last from a week (The French and Indian War) to four months ... the American Revolution. We began the American Revolution last November, discovered we were moving in January, took a month off from school in March while we moved to Canada, and find ourselves in June, finally at Yorktown.

After years of believing in the importance of studying the history of the country we live in, here we are living in another country. I want Nathan to have a good understanding of where he comes from. The history of the United States is his history, sort of. At least, I think it is. But is it?

My dilemma is this: Is the process of teaching US History as an exclusive subject, separate from the history of the world as a whole, teaching a separatist attitude? Am I training him to believe that Americans are better, more special than the populace of other countries? Can you teach patriotism without teaching prejudice? Patriotism is ingrained in me. Give me two measures of "Proud to be an American" (with or without a laser light show, for you Georgians) and I’m weeping.

What does all this patriotism mean? We think we’re special? Yes. We think we have done more to get where we are than the citizens from other nations have? Possibly. Maybe it is a problem of not having learned enough World History. Perhaps that’s the key. But I don’t want Nathan growing up thinking that the history of the United States is more precious than any other people’s history. We’re all citizens of this globe, and it would be a much more peaceful globe if we didn’t expend so much energy looking at the boundaries between us.

I don’t know. I only know that there is a part of me that cannot fathom setting the study of US History aside. It is important. If only to teach him why it is that his momma cries when someone sings “America the Beautiful”.

Next on the agenda after the American Revolution ... a study of Canada. That will be something new and interesting for both of us to learn.

Of a boy, running ...

To watch the boy running free across the pasture ... down the street ... up the drive. Climbing. Exploring. Being a boy. I'm sorry, Austin and Jack, that I never made sure that you knew such freedom. At least not as a lifestyle. The transformation  I'm honored to witness as Nathan explores all that makes him a boy ... total awe. He is explorer, hunter, craftsman, thinker, dreamer, and simply in the throws of a joyful childhood experience.  And he's going it alone. It is the peril that faces an only child, although he's not actually one. But with his brothers grown and off at college, here he runs, mostly alone. 

Which brings me to our next thoughts. It is time for a puppy. A puppy. We have been waiting to get settled, and for Nathan to explore and learn from the books we gave him on having, raising and caring for a puppy. And now the time is near, so stay tuned. 

A cutie much like this one is probably in our future. Best friend, fellow explorer, hunting companion, destroyer (don’t think she’ll be much help in the area of crafting), napper and dreamer, and pal who is also in the throws of a joyful childhood experience. We’re almost ready for you!

Time passes ...

Time passes ... faces change ... people grow older ... but not me! That face in this photo cannot possibly be me! VANITY! She's too old! But, here she sits, and that face is hers. After a long, solitude hike, sweaty, alive, feeling great ... hers ... mine!