Monday Musings

I've been in a funk lately. I'm fairly sure it's because of the steady stream of travel, shows, visitors, big projects etc, especially the last few days. I like funky music occasionally, but I don't like being in a funk. It's like you just go through the motions of life with no emotion, no passion, nothing. I know that the walk of faith is not dependent on feelings, but feelings certainly make the passage more enjoyable.

Today I talked to Betty P for the first time. Betty is one of my correspondence students for the prison ministry. I don't know her story, but I know she's been my most faithful student since 2005. Wherever she moves she stays in touch and just keeps on studying. If lessons get lost or returned she'll call the church and give a good address. This time she gave a phone number as well.

If I ever run out of study material Betty will be the one to complete all the lessons. Even though it was our first personal contact, there was a sweet kinship of spirit that only the Lord can give - I've prayed over many a lesson of hers and now I feel like I have a new friend. Hearing her voice and getting to know her a bit more was precious. I've known her faithful spirit for years now. She's my only student to continue Bible study long after leaving a locked facility.

I don't think about it often but I full well expect to meet and rejoice with all my believing students in heaven someday. Today, God banished a funk by giving me a little heaven here. He couldn't have given me a better encouragement to remain faithful and finish strong.

Finding My Inner Farmgirl

My friend Rachael visited over the weekend. Rachael's visits are always a delight. We do all kinds of crazy stuff like dig in the trash gully on my property, rob bees, sit and sweat for hours, and enjoy insane animal adventures. This visit she went on a swarm call with me and actually found the queen bee in the swarm bucket, by herself! Rach is a true renaissance woman. She's every bit as much at home in a frilly Victorian frock as she is denim and flannel. She makes fine bonnets and can handle a pistol or tomahawk with equal skill.

Needless to say I look forward to her visits.

This time she left me something priceless - a couple of magazines featuring bees and honey as their topic of the month. You know me, if it's honey related, I'm all for it!

One of the magazines is Mary Janes Farm. I have to admit, I was pretty much a goner with the first photo I saw, a little girl in a bee costume. The old timey bee embrodery patterns were a treat too. Interviews with beekeepers, recipes, etc were all presented beautifully and tastefully.

Then I saw the website . . . it turns out Mary Jane is a real person. Her vision, hard work and passion have touched many lives and there are "Farmgirl" chapters, each sporting it's own unique apron, all over the country. It's a great site to peruse while on hold. The networking is awesome - today I found Aunt Daisey , tea jellies, and all kinds of cool crafty blogs. Talk about inspiration! Between all the adorable aprons and links to other women out there doing their own thing, I felt my kind, our kind, of different was a special thing.

So Thank You dear Rachael for your own precious friendship, and also for helping me appreciate my Inner Farmgirl.

Green Goodness: Just Wear Your Gloves

The stinging nettle stand I mentioned a few weeks earlier has grown substantially, in fact there's a couple of nice bushy mounds of it by the barn. Now that I recognize it every time I see where it's spread to another place I'm pleased. It seems to like to grow against rocks and buildings. I've not seen any out in the open, it's almost like it's trying not to be noticed.

But I notice! And a couple of days ago I donned my gloves and a pair of snips and harvested some stalks with tender greens. I was nervous about the gloves, but I figured the barbs would be less likely to penetrate latex than leather or cloth gloves. It was a gamble that paid off. I snipped them low with kitchen scissors, took them in an washed them, all the while being careful not to get them against any bare skin.

My sister had told me they didn't taste great but were great for you. All my research supported that but I wasn't up to a meal of straight nettles, so I mixed them with canned turnip greens. To tell you the truth, I couldn't tell I was eating anything out of the ordinary, but then, I wasn't doing a high ratio of nettles to greens either. It's been almost forty eight hours and no hint of symptoms, so at least I know it's not poisonous.

What was left after snipping the tender greens off the stalk I bound up in a string and hung it just outside the back door. It may be an old wives tale but it's supposed to help keep flies out. So far so good! They're supposed to be naturally leery of the little barbs. I hope it's true - I HATE flies!

I think tea is next on the agenda. They'll be gone as soon as it gets hot so I plan to harvest soon.
Who would have thought a plant that causes so much pain would do so much good?

You Knew Me!

It’s been almost a year since I met Buford Stitcher. Mr. Stitcher is an older gentleman who lives in Randolph County. I became aware of him ten or fifteen years ago after my husband saw an article about him in our local paper. The significance is that he’s from my hometown. He travels here once or twice a year for a local event. When I asked my mom if she knew anything about him she was quick to reply, “Oh yes! He and your Dad go way back.”

I thought I knew about all my dad’s friends but this was news to me. Whatever the case after my own involvement with the organization he was with, it was hit and miss trying to get up with him. And it finally happened last spring.

When I met Mr. Stitcher I introduced myself and told him who my parents were only to see an astonished reaction as his face dropped and his hands went into the air, “You little girls! I can’t believe how you’ve grown!”

It was my turn for an epiphany. For a moment I was five years old instead of fifty. He knew me.

I have to believe this is how Nathanial felt when Jesus announced “I saw you when you were under the fig tree,” and how the woman at the well felt when she ran into the village proclaiming, “Come see a man that told me all I ever did!”

There’s something comforting and liberating about being known. I immediately felt a kinship and freedom of relationship in the knowledge that Mr. Stitcher had known me as a child. It meant a lot later that year as he hugged me at my father’s viewing.

I take joy today in that my God, my Father in heaven KNOWS me and loves me, and unlike all my earthly relationships that I can only live in ‘in the moment’, He lives in those moments before and behind me as well and loves me there too. He knows who I was yesterday, and is working to change me into who I should be tomorrow.

How can I not love him and accept his comfort today?

The Whore in My Heart

Yesterday was my week for Prison Ministry. As usual, my dear husband got a few jollies at the expense of unknowing acquaintances with his usual, “she’s in jail’, or “she’s getting out of jail” remarks. God love him.

I’ve taught on women in the Bible for years. It’s a good fit for what I do as there are so very many “bad” (thank you Liz Curtis Higgs) women in the Bible. The message behind the story is always the same: Jesus loves broken women, Jesus loves YOU, and died to get you back.

So yesterday’s spotlight was on the wife of Hosea, Gomer. The story is never easy for me as I can’t relate to a woman who would leave her husband and children for any reason. And it’s tough because of the way it’s written. The verses in the book jump back and forth from Gomer and Hosea to God and Israel, then back again. Another reason it’s hard is because a precious family member is going through the fire in his marriage because his wife thinks the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, very similar to Gomer.

And it’s tough because the wild life and lovers and desire for independence that called to Gomer call to me.

Don’t get the wrong idea - I don’t know any bad men seeking unholy fulfillment. But just like Israel left her God to go chasing (whoring) after the pleasures and false gods of the world, I find my own heart pulled every day away from God in more directions than I care to confess.

“Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love!”

I’m sure Gomer had no way of knowing that her decisions would ultimately lead to an auction block, her beauty gone, hands tied and barely looking at the ground as people bid on her. The humiliation had to be excruciating. I wonder how she felt when she heard a familiar voice in the crowd outbidding everyone else . . . and I wonder what went through her mind as she heard fifteen silver pieces deposited with the auctioneer, and watched a years worth of food traded as her husband bought her back. Was he going to beat her? Would he invoke the ancient law and have her executed?

No. She was restored, and cherished.

“Such love constrains me.” Gomer reminds me again that nothing, absolutely nothing, will fulfill my heart and my life except relationship with my God. The price he paid to get me off the auction block was heaven's ultimate sacrifice. How can I not love him?

Loving my Weeds

I spent a little time outdoors today. It was nice to get some fresh air as our temps have been pretty low recently and even though it was overcast, it was warm enough to be enjoyable.

My mission was chickweed. A few weeks ago an angel of mercy disguised as a bank rep called, and upon hearing my cough and learning we were recovering from the crud offered some down home advice: Chickweed tea. Actually, chickweed tea with lime.

It wasn't the first time I'd heard that this lowly pest had value. Initially learning that it was rich in nutrients and edible didn't promt me to go out and eat it, but this time I had a need. I was hacking like crazy trying to clear my chest, and nothing was coming up.

God knew, and had a huge wad of chickweed waiting by the door, hanging out of a flowerpot, when I got home. I rinsed it and laid it on a rack over the broiler pan on the wood stove. It was dry in no time.

Making tea was a bit frightening. I used a tea ball and full well expected it to taste like crap, but it didn't. It had sort of a greenish taste, but a teaspoon of lime overpowered it . . . and of course I sweetened it with honey.

It worked! It worked great, and it didn't take long to learn to like the stuff! I'm hooked now, and don't want to be without a good supply of dried chickweed in case we ever have that need again . . . which is why I was searching around the property for a good stand of the stuff.

My search was not in vain. Not only did I find a good amount of chickweed, I was thrilled to find a few stinging nettle growing by a rock pile at the edge of the garden. I left them alone for the time being as I don't have an immediate need. That way they can grow nice and big for me, and hopefully reproduce.

The other thing I found was dandelion. Lots and lots of dandelion. I'll be gathering some of it in the near future too as my dh is already talking about getting the garden dug up for late winter planting.

Those last few moments outside provided a kind of epiphany. As I surveyed the mess left over from the last garden I realized that many of the plants inhabiting that space now are every bit as valuable as the vegetables we had harvested months earlier. Any other year I would have used roundup on them or tossed them root and all in the garbage. Now they were like gifts from God that I had never wanted, let alone appreciated. And they were everywhere.

Yeah, I love my weeds.

Wednesday Thoughts

It’s cold outside, a chilling 33 degrees to be exact, and just a few minutes after 10 am at that. This is extreme for south Alabama. I count my blessings though. I spoke to a friend in Indiana who was working outside in 2 (yes, two) degree weather. God bless the sunny south!

Its winter in a lot of ways. Our house is quiet again after a rollicking Christmas break. I’m ok with that as the still makes for good meditation and prayer. I sometimes think God gets tired of trying to get things through our thick heads in the midst of the noise and clutter of life we surround ourselves with.

I think the winter that bothers me most is in the struggles I see my children dealing with. All the merriment did not fend off the routine (and some not so routine) issues of life, and outright satanic attack.

So on this very cold day, my heart is on fire and I’m pleading with God on behalf of those I love. PA, CA, Montgomery, Troy, Dothan, FL, NC, Memphis, the UP, Afghanistan, . . . I've got kids in a lot of places and prayer has no distance. God would hear just as well as if I was in the next room.

You know who you are and you know I love you.

Wild Life

Life around here is usually pretty tame. We've got our routines and all the animals pretty much know what to expect. The cats have their regular times for going in and out. The chickens pretty much leave the coop in the morning, roam all day and go back to the coop at night. The cows and horses have their favorite hangouts and we all exist peacefully together.

Till today! I woke this morning to a ruckus just outside my bedroom window that would wake the dead. The chickens were having a holy fit about something and I made it outside and around the corner just in time to see a hawk flee from a bush the chickens were hiding behind.

Tonight on the way home I saw the biggest, most beautiful buck I've ever seen just beside my pasture fence. I couldn't believe my eyes and slowed down and just stared at him. Obviously I spooked him because he turned around, jumped the barb wire fence and went back into the pasture. I've got a few more days to maybe put him in the freezer.

I was still in shock over the deer when I drove around the corner of the house to my favorite parking place. What should I see but my dear kitty, Stitches, face to face with a possum about double her size. I don't know if she was staring it down or what, but the nasty thing ran like a son of a gun when it saw me. I blessed my kitty for being a good guard cat.

So maybe it's an illusion that things are tame around here, or maybe it's just that it's winter and the wild critters are hungry.

Early Morning News

So it's about 4:30 am and I'm up. After a couple of hours of tossing and turning miserably after taking a double first dose antibiotic, here I am, trying to take my mind off my poor churning stomach, surfing the net, laughing over some, and getting sick over other things. I've never been one to stay on top of current events. My world is cluttered and messy enough - more than enough to keep me out of trouble. So I rarely take on the rest of the world's problems. But this morning I've ventured to find the late breaking news, and . . . .

1) The only thing keeping a cease-fire from happening is that Hamas refuses to stop sending missiles into Israel.

2)Add to that that some are putting pressure on our president-elect to initiate low level talks with these thugs . . . .

3) UFO's are being blamed for the destruction of a 66' windmill blade in the UK. Ok, E.T. wasn't really in the photo!

4) A doctor in NY is asking for the return of his kidney (or 1.5 million $) in a divorce.

5) Tom Cruise talks out of both sides of his mouth about health and scienteology. Read the commentary .

6) The Marvel/ Obama/ Spiderman comic coming out, while it may be a collectible, is not highly regarded by insiders . . . One writer refered to it as "depressingly crass."

7) Burger King is giving away Whoppers to Facebook users who will drop 10 friends.

8) Los Angeles was just hit with an earthquake and Yellowstone expereinced 252 small earthquakes the last 5 days of 2008.

9. Google is working on a new and improved search engine called Google Chrome.

10) Continental Airlines successfully demonstrated the use of algae as an aviation fuel yesterday.

11) A 42 state outbreak of salmonella is under investigation by the CDC.

12) Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio will be released in a "bleak drama" set in the 50's called Revolutionary Road. Sounds to me like a sinking ship.

I think that should do me for being savvy on current news for a few days. I have prayed for all the mentioned movie actors, the sick people from the outbreak, our president elect, the peace of Jerusalem and the situation in Israel. Also for everyone on the west coast that they won't disappear into the ocean.

I'm not really sure what I should pray for in connection to the UFO's or the Spidy Comic's. Some things are probably best left alone. While I hope none of my Facebook friends sacrifice for for flame broiled delights, I won't lose any sleep if they do. It's only Facebook.

Taking it all In

OK, I really don't think I've taken in nearly as much as I wish I had, but I'll just blame this daggone sickness for that. This is the third, fourth (?) day of the great earache. Warm salt compresses and mullin bloom infused olive oil have become my constant companions, and as bad as I detest our healthcare system, I'm wondering if I should just break down and go. I don't like the looks of my options either way.

But being convalesced does have its perks: lots of sleep, much needed down time, piddle time, movies I wouldn't have otherwise watched, and reading. I finished The Shack (by Wm Paul Young) this morning through tears and a hungry heart. WOW.

I'll spare you a book review. Suffice it to say the website will give much more than I could say here, but if you're up to a rubber meets the road, and to borrow a phrase, where tragedy confronts eternity, kind of book, this is an emerging classic that can stand a place in the Christian library. The youtube video is good. Be warned, the book has stirred a theological hotbed of debate, so nitpickers should probably steer clear. As a metaphor, it takes a lot of literary, and even theological license in order to drive home blibical truth. I personally think the underlying message of the love of God is worth the effort for those grounded in sound doctrine. Let me emphasize that last point . . . for those grounded in sound doctrine. Even God's own book, the Holy Bible, can be misconstrued and twisted by those who are not.

I need to go repent of some stuff now.

The Grinch That Tried to Steal Christmas

Last night for the third year in a row I went to the Ozark City School Bands Christmas Concert to watch our friend Justin play. It consists of three bands starting with the beginners playing Christmas Music. It's always a treat and I look forward to it every year.

The last piece played by the high school band was a medley from the original Grinch that Stole Christmas, the one with the Dr. Seuss comic drawings. . I had to chuckle at the coincidence while listening to "You're as cuddly as a cactus, You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinnnnncccch . . . You're a bad banana With a greasy black peel!"

It's the same theme I plan to teach at the jail this month.

Only this version isn't a cute cartoonish story.

Enter, the Terminator movies. Yeah, yeah, I know. Robots from the future didn't travel back in time to try to kill Jesus. Truth be told, the real version is actually freakier, yet all Christendom lives with it like it's nothing.

Think about it - two eternal beings bent on destroying each other vying for power in a temporal world. One is bent on saving the temporal world, the other on destroying it.

And being eternal, the bad one uses time, and time again to prevent the good one from his ultimate mission to save the temporal world. How? He tries to keep him from being born. In order to save the temporal world the good eternal being has to become temporal.

So here you have this huge plot to keep him from coming at all. Key persons are targeted for destruction. Didn't work. Mass genocide is scheduled to destroy all potential ancestors. A single key player prevented it from happening. And in the end he does come.

Enter - The Grinch, i.e. Herod: A despot so full of himself that he orders the slaughter of babies to prevent anyone from threatening his power. This was Satan's last ditch attempt to destroy Jesus before having to deal with him face to face. Had he succeeded, there wouldn't be a Christmas to celebrate, let alone any other good thing in life.

Despite all obstacles Jesus did fulfill his mission. After all, He IS God. He made a way for those in the temporal world (like me!) to be saved. (Yeah!) His mission was his own death, burial and resurrection.

And that is what Christmas is all about.

Love in a Jar

This evening I got into my stash. Yes, I have a stash. It is kept in a box in a bottom cabinet and nobody gets into it but me. And I only get into it on special occasions.

I’ve had an occasion or two recently to get into it. A visitor came last week and knowing the gentleman’s fine taste, I broke out the box. Only a connoisseur would appreciate it, and he did indeed enjoy the samples he selected.

I got it out again this evening. I had acquired several new specimens to add to my collection and needed to rearrange everything. As I did I thought back over the last several years. I generally don’t partake in the evenings as I did tonight, but somehow I couldn’t help it. Call it the lust of the flesh or whatever, I love my Honey.

Yes, I love Papa Horton with all my heart, but I love my collection of fine, and some rare honeys too. I have specimens Australia, New Zealand and Italy, and quite a few gourmet American honeys. My most recent gourmet acquisition is (Black) Titi, harvested by the above mentioned gentleman who is an outstanding beekeeper.

I couldn’t help but think of all the love that went into this box – the strawberry honey from Mr. Joe’s pollination experiment, the creamed peach honey from his backyard. Several beekeepers from around Alabama have donated samples of fine honey to our club and my kids have blessed me with unusual honeys from their travels. I have an ole timey jar of chunk honey thanks to Brian; cranberry honey from New England compliments of Mike. Cindy started it all with a jar of Outback Honey from Australia. Becky was with me when I found the Michigan Star thistle and Basswood honey.

The Bible records several instances when honey was given as a gift of goodwill. It makes sense. I had to smile as I thought of all the love and goodwill I’ve received over the last few years. Today was a rough day for me and the honey, while I know it was good for me, was only part of the blessing. No matter what you call it, it’s still love in a jar.

Driving the Caddy or No Ghosts in this Car

After my auto accident a week ago God did a totally unexpected and wonderful thing - he provided another set of wheels. It's temporary, a rental car, but most appreciated. My mom came to visit and getting around was imperative. Truth is, I'm probably enjoying the car a little too much. You see, while my Ins. company approved the car, it was a sweet girl at Enterprise Rentals who actually picked out the car, and I've been driving a Cadillac SRX. It's a sweet ride, and has more bells and whistles than I could learn in a month. The other evening I accidentally hit the OnStar button (trying to turn a light on - duh!) and found myself talking to a real person who graciously excused my ignorance.

This morning on the was to Ozark I found myself reminiscing about how much my Dad loved Cadillacs. I guess he drove them a good thirty years or more. My second summer home from college he handed me the keys to his blue one and I used it for work. When I graduated from college the pimp around the corner in our trailer court drove around and around the court eyeballing Dad's new yellow Caddy. It was the exact year, make, model and color as his own - only it had Alabama plates. It was too weird.

Maybe it was the mellow music, maybe it was because I've not grieved deeply over my Dad's passing, but for a moment, just a moment, it was almost like he was close to me. I had this insane sense that he and Jesus were in cahoots in choosing this particular car for me. My Biblical Baptist theology rejects the idea of Dad having any influence in the process, after all, Jesus is our only intercessor, but it's not beyond belief that maybe, just maybe, Jesus put his arm around my Dad and said, "Carl, you see that girl of yours down there? She's going through a real tough time right now and I want to do a little something to show her that I love her but I also want her to think of you."

The last thing Dad told me the last time I saw him was that he was proud of me. Looking back it means a lot. So I drive - and deep in my heart I know Dad would be pleased.

I have a precious friend who should have received Mother of the Year every year for the last twenty. She's pushing seventy and has a house full of bright and energetic teenagers. I know, I know, it's biologically improbable. Truth is, when her biological children all reached adulthood, they adopted. And they didn't take the easy route, they adopted abused children and crack babies.

I've found myself a bit jealous here lately. Our home has been very quiet the last week and a half. Becky left for college not long after Dad passed away and well, the nest is . . . you know.

So far I don't care for it. First of the day's, rare now, are long distance. There's no piano music and no soft singing. The cat doesn't love me the way it loved Becky.

They say this is a transition, a new phase of life and we will get used to it and will even enjoy it. I don't know. Dad and I seem to be getting on each other's nerves a lot lately. Old familiar places and faces, especially church, push my buttons. It's almost like a heavy fog where you can't see what's around you or what direction you're going.

To that I'm just glad I've got a compass, better yet, an autopilot. I think the best thing I can do is just let God set the cruise control and sit back for the ride, albeit bumpy.

Dad and the Full Moon

My father was a man of the outdoors - he could tell what the weather would be like by the sky or the way the leaves curled on a tree. He could tell from the way animals behaved in the late summer what kind of winter to expect.

I should not be surprised that the same kind of knowledge is carrying him to his final resting place.

I found out this morning that by brother in law, some cousins and the neighbor boys he hunted with went up to the church last night and dug dad's grave. It was a precious, fitting tribute.

And it brought what was to me, a bit bizzare, bit of additional folklore - there won't be enough dirt to fill the hole.

Apparently it has something to do with last night's full moon and the earth's gravitational pull. I googled it and found various explanations . (By the way - DO NOT google "grave digging" or "dig grave" and "full moon" in the same search!)

Whatever the case, I learned something from my dad, again.

Escape from I-Land

Remember Patch the Pirate? I deliberately raised the kids on Patch - partly because the songs and stories were so daggone good, and partly because I liked them too. I think my favorite was the Misterslippi River Race. Everything about that recording touched a deep, deep south part of my soul. It was a different story with a different villain that I thought about today, King Me First, of Kidnapped on I-Land.

King Me-First's given name was CW. He was a cute impish kid who's dad was away on business a lot. When he was very small he was stricken with a deadly illness and his overwrought mother catered to his every need in fear of losing him. He survived though and became a healthy boy, romping in the woods and learning the ways of the outdoors. The patterns of behavior that were established during his illness never changed however. He became manipulative and conniving and his parents caved in to his every whim all the way to adulthood. This way of relating to the world around him carried over into his own family and caused untold heartache for his wife and daughters. Even in his love for his family, King Me First was always . . . first.

He's an old man now, and the consequences of a lifetime of selfish behavior have taken their toll. His suffering has been profound and we've been told by a man of God that the only reason he's still alive is that God is still trying to do a work in his heart. I found out this morning that he's dying. His kidneys are shutting down and rumor around the hospital is that he won't leave there alive.

But something profound has happened . . . for the first time ever to my knowledge he put someone else first. Twice today, through gasps for breath and a slurred tongue he's asked my mom if she would be ok.

Dad, this person who spoke today . . . where has he been the last fifty years?

Busy, Busy Summer!

I guess I've been wrong all my life. For some reason I thought people slowed down with age, but it don't seem to be happening that way for me. We've just finished our last year with a school age child at home and it ain't happening!

I even thought I'd get a much needed day for myself today, but it didn't happen either. Cindy's down for the birth of another godchild and went to the first ever Grace Bible Academy reunion. I was invited but Norman wasn't big on the idea so I wasn't going to go until . . . I spotted the blouse. It was her birthday present and I knew she had planned to exchange it, so I went - with Norman's blessing.

This is where I stop and ponder God's doings when he orders our steps.

The reunion was very informal and nothing was really planned beyond visiting and eating. We were only there five years so there were a lot of young people prior to us and after us that I didn't know. To be honest, I didn't recognize most of the ones I DID know. And all the teachers had aged as bad or worse than I had. At least I knew them though.

Because of a more mutual recent acquaintance there was one young lady I wanted to seek out. When we finally did get a chance to visit the years "in between" broke my heart for her, and I was blessed to see the dignity and grace in which she handled a most difficult family situation. And I also saw how God had replaced all she was denied through other Christians who love and appreciate her for who she is.

Another thing to ponder was God's timing in moving our family away from that school and that church. I have to admit that I didn't go happy. In fact I was pretty put out with God for forcing it on us. He knew what he was doing. I just found that out today.

I knew a lot of junk happened after we left. What I didn't know was that the depth of the divisions and disagreements that happened, or the extent of the pain that was suffered. God saw it coming. We were forcibly moved to avoid all that and also so we could heal from our own previous battle wounds. It didn't happen that way for many of my friends and their kids, and their absences today were noticeable.

But back to BUSY . . . Becky and Zack arrived in Costa Rica today. Tomorrow they'll minister in a church and visit an orphanage. Other ministry events are planned for the week.

Nephew Zack was with us 9 or 10 days before they left Friday. Like Beck he just graduated. We've had a boatload of fun - I'd lost sight of just how different guys are. I don't think any of us have been to bed before midnight since he's been here.

And last night was a wonderful evening with friends at Ft. Rucker and seeing fireworks. John and Connie will be moving in a couple of weeks, and we'll miss them sorely. VERY sorely. But I understand. I'm just glad we get to keep friends like that forever. :)

Things will switch gears on the kids return. We'll have Zack another week and plan a trek to Pensacola. After that it will be the final countdown to college. I don't like to think that far ahead. I'm glad God reminded me that even the painful things are for our good. I know it will be good for Becky. I smile through the tears forming at the edge of my eyes knowing that God has something for us parents too.

Catching up with Toto

Family and long time acquaintances remember Antoine, our first French exchange student. It's a long story how we made this crazy decision but the long and short of it is that one August day some years back we picked up a skinny boy from the airport who could barely communicate with us. It turned out to be an incredible year for us, for him and for GW Long where he attended school.

The last we heard from Toto was right after 9/11. His family called to make sure we were ok. It was a sweet gesture. They are good people. At some point we lost contact with him after a Christmas card was returned. It was no surprise, we couldn't expect him to live at home with his parents forever.

So I've checked online for him every once in a while. I'll spare you the details of point Point A to Point B, but as I write I just checked his GPS position a few minutes ago and watched him on youtube.

Antoine dreamed of driving. One of his great disappointments while here was that we couldn't get the needed papers to take driver's ed. It turns out in the years since he returned to Europe that his older brother became a race car driver and Antoine has joined the family racing team as Navigator for Nicholas. They've got a huge following.

At this writing Team Gibon, Nicholas et' Antoine, is participating in the TransOrientale, the longest rally race in the world. They started in St. Petersburg, Russia about six days ago and will end in Bejing, China sometime toward the end of the month.

Am I proud? Yes. The message we received right before they left from Russia left no doubt that his time here helped shape him into a fine man.

And in case anyone is interested, here's the links:
teamgibon.fr check on "Pilotes" for photo
race site lots of photos, video and interactive stuff
the brothers on youtube Antoine appears briefly while Nicholas (in white) is talking

Buster and the Chickens

We've noticed for a while that our dog thinks he's a chicken. We got him as a small pup and he grew up with our free range chickens. While he IS a dog, sometimes he does chicken like things. Like eat banana peels and cantaloupe rind. I guess as many times as they've helped themselves to his dog food when his back was turned he may as well hog theirs when the opportunity comes up.

Two weeks ago my dh had to confine the chickens to the coop. It was a hard decision as we all enjoy them so much, but they were scarfing down the tender young vegetable plants in the garden as soon as they came up. There was no way to keep them out without encasing the entire garden in chicken wire, including the top. Large garden plus lots of chicken wire equals lots of expense. Nope. The chickens had to stay put a while.

Enter heat wave. Yeah, it's been bad here. Even with extra shade and plenty of water they've not done well and we lost three layers this week. My dh was devastated. He buried two of them deep near the edge of the garden yesterday.

We knew the dog missed the chickens. He had caught him in the coop with them (he'd dug himself in) just hanging out and enjoying their company a couple of times. Maybe he was "sharing" their scratch feed and water too, we don't know. But this morning as I enjoyed a quiet moment on the screen porch before it got too hot I heard something sad - Buster was howling just off to my left. I wasn't able to see him, but he was howling - a sad slow howl. It seemed odd but I didn't give it a lot of thought till I got the car a bit later.

The howl came from a spot where a dead chicken lay. It was a pretty bad sight and I wasn't about to go near the disgusting thing, so I did what any good farm wife would do. I got my husband. Turns out Buster had dug her up. I don't know if he was trying to encourage her to get up and walk around with him or what, but he was howling, mourning over his friend.

There's a verse in the Bible about all creation groaning in travail while the earth waits for redemption. I would have never thought that a half wolf dog would mourn over the loss of a chicken, but that's exactly what happened.