The Chicken Coop Dilemma

I am sentimental. I admit it. I may just be one of the most sentimental female souls living in this old farmhouse. As we continue to work on packing, some parts of giving up the myriad of material possessions that we own have been easy, others, not so much so. I keep trying to weigh everything from an eternal scale perspective; "keep trying," those are the key words.

Letting go of the critters last summer was challenging, especially at first with a few of the favorites, but surprisingly, their absence in our lives is just alright. Sorting closets and junk drawers has been liberating, thoughts of divulging in a plate smashing party have been discussed and then quickly passed by, and the check from the recycling center has been a bonus to this whole moving thing.

But the chicken coop has become a dilemma.

From its history of being built out of the old log barn left overs, to the memories of hammering away with the kids to finish the construction of it, to the necessity of needing it for the dozen chickens who will be moving with us, the batten board artifact is something that I can't fathom leaving behind. Talk about souvenirs: it's a little larger than the trunks full of childhood memories and the totes full of home school projects.

At this moment there are many farmers, who, by their blood relation feel indebted to assist in the moving of the structure, are scratching their heads about how to lift and haul the beast. I am just hoping and praying that my craftsmanship isn't left splattered on some back road between here and the lake view property.

Oh, life just keeps getting more and more interestinger.

Building Castles

Do not work for food that spoils, 

but for food that endures to eternal life, 

which the Son of Man will give you. 

John 6:27a

Doing crazy things like selling the farm and most of your worldly possessions in response to what you acknowledge as the calling of God opens your life up for speculation. Especially when that calling includes a double wide trailer house, the stigma of how weird you really must be can't be faked on the kind people's faces who can barely help but offering their opinion. The past few days have included more human contact than I have had most of this long, cold winter thanks to tax appointments and social obligations. Honestly, the weather was a good excuse to hide from the world and just bunker down with very few other opinions than God's.

What a strange awakening to come out of my little cocoon and get a taste of the outside world. I assumed, because of how we live, that every professing believer was actually a believer. Since my days are consumed with thoughts of God and eternity, I figured that every other disciples thoughts were, too. I spend my days thinking about how to please the Lord, what my first glimpse of eternity will be, wondering what Jesus really looks like, anticipating the full redemption of my sinful nature and the body it is trapped in, wrestling with Scripture, and longing desperately for the satisfaction of being in the presence of my Savior.

So what a shock to not find that, especially in church going folk who gather regularly on Sunday mornings. It baffles me. Makes me shake my head and wonder if I am too radical. Maybe too gung-ho about all this Jesus and salvation stuff. Maybe I am the one who has made too much emphasis on the fact that eternity is going to be such a long time. Maybe I should tone it down and just live for now, building my castles here rather than seeking to build them in Heaven. Maybe Jesus was too intent on His Father's kingdom. Somehow, I don't think so.

There is a recently signed contract to sell the farm sitting on my cluttered computer desk. Whew. Holding our breaths, realizing all the crazy emotions combined in one that this is really happening, we now wait for the end of the month when there will {Lord willing} be no more farm mortgage payments. At the same time, being cautiously excited for what the future holds and praying that it will make us available and willing for whatever God asks next, all the while believing that having less of this world will give us a greater longing for eternity.

My ever wise daughter, Alexis, calmed my frazzled response to the varied opinions on our move when she wondered out loud if others were scared that God might call them to what He has called us to, therefor it is easier to call us crazy than to wonder if God really meant that we should live wholly for Him and not invest the majority of our time, money, emotions, talents, etc., etc., in this world. After all, the rich man preferred his riches over having Jesus, she reminded me.

It makes me stop and ponder every object that I think I can't part with as we pack up this junque. "Will this go with me to eternity?" I continually ask myself as I am sorting through our possessions. Nope. None of it. Like the good folks in Hebrews who gladly gave up their belongings because they knew there were better and lasting ones awaiting them (Hebrews 10:34), I try to remember what all this stuff really is.

I remind myself to be patient as I resist the urge to build my castle here, and instead longingly look forward to a lasting castle. I don't think Jesus was kidding. He is coming soon. He does expect His children to be looking and waiting for Him. He will separate the sheep and the goats. Eternity will be a long, long time.

Cabin Fever

My children are witnessing to the dog.

Do we need any other evidence that cabin fever has set in with a vengeance? Creative excuses to get out of home school for the umpteenth cold day in a row runs rampant by this time of the winter season. Their great desire to assure that Lady goes to Heaven probably has little to do with the state of her canine soul and more to do with dealing with their fear of sending their good friend off to her new home. Besides Lady, there are her brood of barking offspring that are just about ready to find somebody else's house to chew everything in sight and demand potty breaks numerous times a day from their lucky new owners. Eight weeks of puppies and I am about dogged out.

The heralding ground hog saw his shadow over the weekend, assuring us that there would be several more weeks of this glorious winter wonderland. Honestly, I am glad. I have taken somewhat of a personal responsibility on myself for torturing all the rest of you in the northern region with such a ferocious season of cold and snowfall. You see, I have needed just such a winter and have prayed often to ask and thank God for it. The longer days have only added to the realization that the time is short to finish the work at hand.

In the midst of our big move I have been convicted to finish several huge projects before the weather turns nice, and the deep freeze has provided the opportunity to stay home and work on them.  Eight picture books are officially completed as of last night and just waiting for the finances to get them printed. Eighteen hundred and some collages later, with an average of at least ten pictures per page, (which doesn't even include all of the pictures taken in the last six years) and figuring that those pictures needed to be handled at least six times before their final format, means that in the last three months I have viewed and sorted some 110,000 pictures give or take. Hmmm.... anybody else convicted that we mothers just might take a few too many photos? But I wouldn't trade a one of them, nor do I regret the many hours behind the camera or the computer screen, other than the fact that my children are tired of not seeing my eyeballs and my back has become a tangled knot from being so hunched over as I peer into the little box of blinking lights.

The collages have been a therapy for me. A grueling, heart aching therapy. To relive Trent's life, and our life, before and after the accident has been emotionally exhausting. One that needed a long, cold winter to sort through.

My next project is to finish the two books that I have been plugging away on for too long now. OurCrazyFarm the Book is our story of life at the farm. Probably just for the family, it chronicles our move here and all the crazy adventures that were lived. When Hope Survives is a devotional book based on First Peter 1:3-9 that lays out God's glorious hope for the sufferer. After those accomplishments, I have great ideas that I feel God leading me towards to continue to write, write, write. Knowing that the time is short, I long to be faithful.

As far as the farm, we *think* it might be sold. A family who looked at it last summer has been trusting God to lead them to their desired farm, and this just might be it. Final details are working themselves out and we await a signed purchase agreement, but the tentative plans are to close by the end of March and move by June. I'm trying not to hold my breath while I anticipate that it could be this easy.

Everybody is starting to get nervous about the move. Living in limbo is so hard, and fear seems to be the first response to the unknown. That and witnessing to the dog. Upset children about getting the room that is minuscule inches smaller and has the window in the wrong direction are really screams to long to be in control. To give up every earthly thing that brings comfort is one of God's hardest and most gracious ways to pry our fingers off of this world. As I try to give the right answers, I am praying that it's the heart that will be changed rather than the living accommodations.

As for myself, I am almost refusing to let my brain race ahead. I am committing myself to the tasks at hand, trying to finish well here at the farm. Wrapping up the photo albums and the books are top on my list, along with home school, college planning, and a graduation in the Spring. Longings for what the new place will mean in terms of serving and seeking God continue to pop up, but I force them to stay in their little compartmentalized places until the other priorities are taken care of. But I can't help it. I am so ready to have our lives poured out in ways that we can't right now due to financial and time restrictions. To live as if Heaven is reality and this life is a mist. To be able to store up treasures there rather than building our Kingdoms here. I can't wait.

So for now we will work diligently on the tasks that God has given us. Continuing to plug away and wondering if this will be the day that Jesus returns. Hoping and praying for it, while at the same time attempting to be faithful until it is.

OurCrazyFarm

One of the best parts about not moving immediately is the time to linger through the packing process. We have been at the farm for six years, which culminates in a lot of stuff and a lot of memories. A majority of the clean out was done over the summer when we sold off the machinery, farm equipment and animals. In anticipation of hoping to move right away I even did a pretty major clearing out of closets and rooms. Pictures came off the walls, kitchen cupboards were sorted, and the outbuildings cleaned.

Now that I have nothing to do but wait six months until I can physically move anything else, I have been overwhelmed to close this chapter on our lives by recording it in both written and photographic form. I bought my first cheap digital camera shortly after we purchased the farm and proceeded to capture nearly every experience of our kids' childhood, so, luckily I have the {literally} thousands of pictures taken since we moved here. Unfortunately, they are all un-sorted on the old computer instead of the newer laptop, which meant that Grace had to teach me how to use a flash drive to move them and now I get the fun job of sorting and printing them.

I've also been writing a family memoir, called (what else?), OurCrazyFarm~ The Book. It was actually begun the summer of 2011 after Trent's accident when I could still recall how it was when life was normal. I've relished living in both the book and the photos. Easier to be there than look around some days; easier to stay there than to live now.

I'm hoping to have both projects done by Christmas. Hah! I'll be lucky to have it done by next Christmas, but since I work best under pressure, Christmas is what I'm telling my brain. Even Christmas presents, to surprise the children, you know.

It will be good to have something physical to look back on, but at the same time, I am anxious for what the future holds. It feels easier to live a new life at the other place. Hope seems easier there, rather than surrounded here by choking memories. I want them to stay where they are happy memories, not crying ones. The book has done that so far. Laughter is the tone of it, because there was much laughter back then. Death did not loom. The photos reveal the change. Innocent faces were all that was seen prior to 2011. The recent photos reveal too much contained pain; too much knowing of grief.

I have been praying for and anticipating what God has in store as we move on. Thoughts of ministry in India has left Rob speechless, but knowing that we will be entering a stage of our lives where we expect to have an abundance of money and time, something that we really have no experience with, has me wanting to proceed with caution. I've been asking the big question: what do I want to do with the rest of my life?

Above it all is the hope of the "renewal of all things (Matthew 19:28)." We begin this next chapter with the thought of eternity. What will matter then? How do we live it out now? What is of utmost importance?

For now, I keep plucking away at the keyboard, forcing my brain to live five years ago, five kids ago. Smiling, laughing, enjoying innocence and not feeling too guilty to let the kids cook as we can always call it Home-Ec.

Different Plans

 

"You of little faith," Jesus said, "why did you doubt?"

Matthew 14:31

I have selfishly attributed the warm Fall weather as a gift from God especially to our family. I'm sure that many others are benefiting from it and enjoying soaking up the forty degree sunshine in November, but to me it came again as a reminder that God gives to His children before they even know what to ask for. His pre-ordained plans are perfect and come at His perfect timing, never before and never too late even if we are tempted to think otherwise as we watch life unfold around us with what sometimes only appears to be chaos.

This warm weather is very untypical, the cement contractor told Rob, and we couldn't have asked for a better scenario to pour a foundation so late in the year. Earlier this Fall, after giving up the house dream for the time being and committing ourselves to let God be God and move mountains if that was His plan, He did. Almost literally as we let go, God swooped in and gave us something better than we had been pushing for.

As much as we loved that old farmhouse that we wanted to move to the new lake view property, we see now how ill-suited it would have been for us and how it quickly had morphed into not fulfilling our desire for leaving the farm. With its lure of an attic writers loft and the great big front porch to tempt us, realistically it would have been four stories and a large mortgage after the moving expense, plus several thousands more to fix it up. Yes, we would have done it, but now we're so glad that God took it away.

Instead He transformed my heart, to which the family is still commenting. "No trailer house," were my exact words when we started this. I am a bit biased, and I have a fetish for old farm houses. But a trailer house that we could pay cash for, and that was a double wide that pleased the town ordinance, and that had three bedrooms, two living rooms, two bathrooms (one with a Jacuzzi tub), a den, skylights, and nearly every upgrade imaginable changed my mind. Yep, that'll work.

The plan of no mortgage in a very short time. Check.

Freedom to invest our energy and finances into Kingdom work. Check.

A reminder of our temporary status and a greater longing for our eternal home. Check.

A big enough place to easily entertain (angels, perhaps? Hebrews 13:2) and minister. Check.

Little maintenance or upkeep. Check.

The green room that the boys wanted and a purple room that the girls wanted. Check.

In a whirlwind of finding house movers, slab contractors, and personally transporting nearly seven-hundred cement blocks ourselves, we now await the final transportation of the house to the land. While it's too late to put in the sewer and water this year, we will bunker down at the farm for some much needed rest and focus on homeschool until the weather warms up again.

And to top it all off, the serious lookers at our house hope to be ready with their down payment and a purchase agreement at the same time that we would hope to be moving. So we have officially taken the farm off of the Craigslist market and won't have to worry about showing it for several months.

We all feel like we can almost breathe again.

I'm going to head out and soak up some of that concrete drying sunshine and enjoy the blessing of it  before the snow decides to come.

And that verse at the top:

"You of little faith," Jesus said, "why did you doubt?"

Matthew 14:31

I find great encouragement in it today not only for these temporary things, but for the day when I stand before God, standing next to my son. Yes, me of little faith, why do I doubt? Committing the big things as well as the little things to the One who promised to carry them all.

God's Word Today

"I will settle them in their homes,"

declares the Lord.

Hosea 11:11

 

And after reading that direct message this morning via a powerful God way, I hereby repent of my doubting and officially commit to quit whining and worrying about this house situation. I get the message, God. You've got this all figured out. 

 



To Let Go

 

Unless the Lord builds the house, 

the builders labor in vain.

Psalm 127:1

God is sovereign. It is clear all over Scripture that He has everything under control. What's supposed to happen when it is supposed to happen will happen. He hasn't asked me for any advice yet on running His universe, and I don't suspect that He will be any time soon. So, armed with that knowledge, our family has chosen to take our hands off the big house move that we hoped would have happened by now. No more messages, no more interrogating phone calls asking the same questions over and over again, no more tracking this guy down and that guy down, no more anxiety of next week, next week. Just hands off and let God do it if He's going to. I think the Bible calls it faith.

Due to electric companies taking weeks to hash out a route to move the house through the back roads of Wisconsin, then coming back (not once, but twice) with an exorbitant price, then because of their delay losing the basement contractor which has all but given the well guy spasms over his anxiety of drilling after the ground freezes and didn't-we-know-winter-was-coming (?!), and then the new bid of five digits with too many zeroes for tree removal, and then the bank's flub of forgetting to answer the appraiser's questions so she could finish the appraisal . . . somewhere along the line started to get the hint that maybe this isn't supposed to happen just yet.

We've held out for a miracle, but with snow already on the ground we're praying now instead for trust. Our little lake view acreage with its anticipation of rest, and our dream farmhouse, are in God's hands. It's so strange to be doing nothing but waiting on God. The calling to let go of the farm remains clear as we wait for God's leading of where He is taking us, yet I still find myself clinging to my wishes as I mouth His sovereignty and complete ability to move mountains if He wants them moved. I have discovered a whole nother level of my own demanding heart. I really do just want what I want, when I want it, but at the same time I try to stamp God's name on it and say that it was all His doing. Yeesh! I have so far to go.

What an interesting place to be: to just let God lead, to let God be the builder instead of me, to have a front row seat to watch Him work.

No News is Maybe Good News

No news is maybe good news when it comes to the umpteenth round of waiting for electric companies to come up with a bid to get the house moved. We're on week three of hoping that Friday will actually be the day that we know our fate of whether or not we can move the new/old farmhouse to the lake view property. All our hopes and dreams are hinging on a couple of men deciding how to forge a trail through the back roads of Wisconsin to avoid phase three lines. Well, those two men and God. I'm counting on God more than them, but the rollercoaster is getting tiring and I'm ready for somebody to stop the ride. So, maybe Friday. Maybe today. Maybe next Spring. Or maybe I'll be doomed to that Craigslist trailer house or we'll decide to move to Timbuktu instead. Either way, by this time next year we'll all know.

A View with a Lake

It's ours! A view with a lake!

I'm not even sure where to start this post. Maybe back to a couple of Fridays ago when we paid {cash} for a teeny, tiny parcel of land which will {Lord willing} soon be called home. Or back to that sermon that started the conviction of the gluttony that we have felt entitled to for so long. Or way back two and a half years ago to the discontent that began after Trent went to Heaven and I realized first hand that none of this stuff goes with us. Either way, wherever I start, it all ends up at the same place: a teeny, tiny parcel of land which will {Lord willing} soon be called home.

The excitement really started a couple of months ago when Rob came home with a little slip of paper that he had torn off of the bulletin board at work advertising some lake view property with a home that was cheaper than what we could consider having to spend to send our firstborn to college. Immediately we both envisioned no mortgage payments, no below zero chores twice a day, real vacations without running home to water animals and the prospect of pouring even more into raising our kids for the few remaining years that we hope to have them here without Rob working two jobs to feed them.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the house was literally a two room shanty. If there had been any way to salvage it I would have moved right in, but things like foundations matter to Rob, so we started our quest for other affordable living arrangements. Lo and behold, it soon came to our attention that there was a beautiful old farmhouse scheduled for destruction if the land owners couldn't find somebody to move it off of their property. Since I'm a sucker for old farmhouses we went to look at it... and fell in love. The big porch sold us immediately and has blinded us to the tiny dining room, graffiti walled kitchen and broken windows.

Soon, we set to work putting in an offer on the land and contacting banks and construction workers to see if we could make a go of the rest of the project. On a whim I put the farm up for sale on Craigslist and soon we were fielding emails and phone calls with showing after showing following. Next, we made a list of every possible material possession we could part with, including all of the livestock, and started receiving more Craigslist emails and phone calls. As the big finale we hosted a garage sale and sold out nearly by the first night.

On the day of closing for the land we showed up with cash in the bank and giddily signed on the dotted line. Then we went out and did a happy dance and breathed a big sigh of relief.

Now we impatiently wait for the rest of the contractor bids to come back and the final details to get finished to move the house. Two serious lookers are going to get back to us about the farm this week hopefully, and more people keep on emailing asking for more details so that they can start living their own dreams.

A home with a lake view. A place to rest, a place to regroup, a place to invest into what really matters. I can't wait.