A Hot Chocolate Morning

 

It's a hot chocolate morning. The air is nippy enough to need extra quilts on the beds now, and when I couldn't stand it any longer this morning, I hiked down the basement steps and started the wood stove. Cole even shortened his daily run and only made it to the end of the driveway, cat and dog trailing behind him, commenting when he came in that it was too cold to go any further. Had I been quick enough I would have snapped a picture of the sunrise beaming behind him on his way back up, but the recliner felt too good to move that fast. He sat down at the dining room table with his cup and plunged back into his school work, hoping to finish early so he could be free for the afternoon.

Even hot chocolate hurts. Somehow, it's easier to pour only four cups now, but never without that familiar dull ache that begins around my heart and threatens to overflow in tears. That ache is lighter this morning after being on my knees before God. Today, I was able to remember the promises and look forward to eternity; the bearing of my cross seeming to have some purpose.

My mind refuses to rest, but words have been sparse lately. I tell myself that I will sit down and force them out, but then so often only find myself staring at a blank computer screen. I long for the flow again.

I have been pondering eternity, salvation, suffering, relationships, soap, the great outdoors, and how to live without investing my life here but rather for an inheritance in heaven. I haven't quite figured it all out. I've been wondering if Trent has gotten over the awe of being in heaven yet. As I continue to praise God daily that he is there, it dawned on me that he is there. If my praise has continued for nineteen months, what must his be like?

An amazing conversation happened around our kitchen island the other day when the kids and I were trapped with nowhere to escape because we where elbow deep in pumpkin guts. We started talking about what it might have been like for Trent that afternoon as he went down that slope and saw his first glimpse of Jesus. I nearly held my breath as I heard the work that God has been doing in these little souls that surround me; work that I was unaware of. We live our lives side by side, so close and busy together, but so often we neglect to talk about what matters.

I honestly can't imagine what it would be like to see Jesus. Even the thought brings tears and overwhelms me. I feel the insignificance of being allowed in His presence. I feel the slightest sense of His holiness as I think of it. I feel my sin and my need for a Savior.

God did an amazing work by using Trent's death to save my brother in law. For these many months it has been a great joy amidst the sorrow to see his life dramatically transformed. A couple of weeks ago we had the joy of witnessing my sister's whole family being baptized together. Talking a few days after the baptism, Brenda shared the remorse that it took Trent's death to have their eyes opened. I felt the impact like never before of what salvation really cost. Somebody did die, sin was that serious. Jesus died.

Rob read us the story of the crucifixion from the book of Mark at our family devotions last night. I could hardly stand to hear the words. My finite brain can't make suffering equal eternal glory, but Scripture tells us it's so. If anything, perseverance is going to be what gets me. Only by the grace of God do the days marked off on a seemingly never ending calendar make sense without my son. I used to be so content in this world: goats, food, sunshine, WalMart. Now only what is done for Christ matters. For this pain I try to remember to praise God, too: for nothing satisfying other than Him, for living eternally minded rather than for here.

This concept has been popping up everywhere: suffering equaling eternal glory. James baffles me when he says, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4) He tells us in the next verse to ask God for wisdom. So I asked.

“Is suffering worth it?” My Bible notes inquire about the age old question to myself again and again.

God's answer to me on that sunny morning nearly a month ago came from 2 Thessalonians 1:11 and 1 Timothy 1:12-18. Sweet promises made personal.

“Suffering causes {me} to be counted worthy of God's calling- it is only endured by God's power- ultimately so that Jesus will be glorified in me, and me in Him according to the grace of God. Scripture says that God appointed {me} to His service. He gives strength. He considered {me} faithful, even though I am a sinner, the greatest of all sinners as Paul says, all by the grace of God that is poured out abundantly. I need to PERSEVERE because through suffering God is revealing His mercy and His unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on Him and receive eternal life. All for the honor and glory of God for ever and ever. Fight the good fight.”

Jesus' glory on this earth was the cross. He told us that as His followers we would be given crosses to carry. Heavy, splintered, bloody crosses. Burdens and yokes that would be impossible to endure aside from His grace. A constant reminder that this is not our home, a reminder of our longing for an eternal home. Somehow those crosses work to crush us, the sinful flesh part of us, and allow Jesus alone to shine through. The weight of those crosses seems to be what shatters anything in us that has no godly value and reveals our allegiance to our God, or His to us. They reveal more than we want them to, and make us go deep.

“Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him.” (James 1:12)

Suffering, a crown, eternal glory, and a Savior worth trusting. Somehow it makes sense, even when I can't seem to make it make sense.

School Lunches

In an attempt to become organized and make our lives easier with the new busy home school schedule, I created a two week revolving lunch menu. Based on our four day school week, a menu was planned of items that could either be froze ahead or easily prepared by the older kids if I am busy teaching the younger ones. Most of the meals can stand alone if need be, or a simple vegetable or fruit could be added to round it out. We have a designated school shelf that is stocked with the ingredients needed to make the meals that aren't in the freezer. The other benefit of this plan is that there should even be plenty of left-overs for Rob to take to work the next day. For one afternoon of working in the kitchen we have a whole month of school meals prepared without wondering "what's for lunch today?"

Week 1:

Make your own pizza
Tator Tot Hotdish
Pancakes
Spaghetti Hotdish

Week 2:

Hot Dogs and Macaroni
Chicken and Broccoli Hotdish
Egg/Sausage/Hashbrown Bake
Chili

*Make your own pizza
Monday's are usually easier days for us, because everybody is excited to start a new week of school, which means that {hopefully} a couple of kiddos will be done with their work early in a race to make the pizza dough. The school shelf is stocked with our favorite pizza toppings, and there is pepperoni in the freezer.

*Tator Tot Hotdish
Rather than the typical hamburger and tomato hotdish, this one uses sausage, cheese and sourcream. A family favorite here.

1# ground sausage, browned
1/2 tub of sour cream
1 bag Tator Tots
Shredded Cheddar cheese

Layer in a 9x13 pan as listed, bake covered at 375* for 30 minutes, uncover and bake another 15 minutes or until the cheese is browned.

*Pancakes
Most of our kids can whip up a batch of Grandma Lee's pancakes by themselves and have them ready for me to fry. The school shelf is stocked with extra flour, baking powder, and syrup (plus frozen strawberries are in the freezer) and eggs are usually in abundance around here.

2 Eggs
2 cups of Milk
1/2 cup Sugar
2 cups of Flour
4 1/2 tsp. Baking Powder

*Spaghetti Hotdish
1/2 box of Spaghetti noodles, boiled until soft
1# browned hamburger
1 jar Spahetti sauce
Shredded cheddar, parmesan and mozzarella cheese
Black Olives, sliced

Layer all ingredients in a 9x13 pan as listed, bake covered at 375* for 30 minutes, then uncover and bake an additional 15 minutes or until cheese is browned.

*Chicken and Broccoli Hotdish
1/2 package frozen Broccoli
2 cups cooked, cut chicken
1 can sliced water chestnuts
12 pcs. of American cheese slices
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/2 can of milk
1 package Dried Onions
Serve with White Rice

Layer chicken, broccoli, and water chestnuts in 9x13 pan. Layer cheese on top evenly. Mix mayonnaise, cream of mushroom soup, and milk- pour over the top. Bake covered at 350* for 30 minutes, uncover and sprinkle with dried onions. Bake an additional 15 minutes. Serve with white rice.

*Egg Bake

There are many versions of this egg bake. It can be changed up everytime you make it to use whatever you have on hand. This time I made it with sausage and extra eggs, but you could also use ham or bacon, and even add spinach, black olives, salsa, peppers, onions, etc. I have never tried freezing it before, so it will be a good experiment to use up eggs.

12 eggs
1 pound of browned sausage
1/2 pkg. of frozen hashbrowns
1/2 tub of sourcream
1/2 cups of milk
Shredded cheddar and mozzarella cheese
Salt and pepper to taste

Mix all ingredients, pour in a 9x13 pan. Bake at 375* for 45 minutes, or until eggs are set.

*Chili

2 Quarts of tomatoes (home grown are best:)
2 pounds browned hamburger, seasoned with chili powder and garlic
2 cans kidney beans
1 can chili beans
1 chopped onion
chopped celery
chili seasoning to taste

Mix all ingredients and simmer for several hours. It's always better the next day. Serve with crackers, or sour cream and shredded cheddar cheese. To freeze my chili I did not cook it down, just browned the hamburger and mixed it all together then let it cool and put it in gallon freezer bags.

A Farm Catch-All

Today was pig loading day. More evidence that Summer really is winding down as we head into Fall. Our seven pigs that we purchased in April were a month bigger than we had hoped to raise them, but it only means more bacon for us and a few other families who help support our farming endeavors. We will all look forward to home grown pork in our freezers. Again, we prayed before the locker plant truck arrived, and again, the driver left smiling rather than cursing. They didn't walk single file into the trailer with no prodding like previous years, but there wasn't a fight either.

The garden is dwindling down for the season, and soon it will be retired to rest for the winter. We are already enjoying the harvest of canned pickles which we were desperately short of the last couple of seasons. The freezer has a nice supply of corn and green beans, besides all the veggies we ate throughout the summer. A few tomatoes are still clinging to the vines, but another picking should clean them out. Soon the pumpkins will be baked and frozen for all those yummy pumpkin bars and breads this winter. The goofy crossbred squash, and the zucchini that we couldn't come up with one more recipe for, is being enjoyed by the rabbits and the chickens.

The abundance of rogue sunflowers are being fed to the goats. Breeding season is upon us already, and we are beginning to dream of spotted doelings in February to make up for our buckling year this spring. Our last little buck is scheduled to be picked up and brought to his new home {Lord willing} by another happy Craigslist customer. This will be the first year in a long time that we don't have major projects to finish before the snow flies, and probably the first year that I am too tired in every way to even dream up extra projects... except possibly that screen porch that is still waiting for a roof...

Now, now, now, now, now

Now, I am all for homeschooling. I've been doing it for umpteen years and have taught a few kids how to read and write plus count past their toes. But I must confess, that big yellow school bus gets very tempting at times. Like this week ... as we are braving the class room to dig through curriculum books to prepare for a new scholastic year. Everyone was all excited last week when we were just talking about the pencil sales and structured schedules and filling the snack tote for busy days. But when the work begins and they have to actually start using those new pencils the tune seems to change.

I had three nearly in tears already yesterday. You know it's going to be a doozey of a year when one certain child is surprised that you take away their calculator for a third grade math placement test. I keep trying to encourage them that the death of their brother is a good excuse for having missed out on a few math concepts, and who really needs to know what "x" is anyway? Just how important is algebra? Their God knowledge is astounding, right up there with faith and trust in the Almighty. I am trying to keep it all in perspective.

I have decided to try a new writing program this year for everybody. It's called Writing Strands. It is a multi-age curriculum, with eight varying levels that give a home schooling mother hope that her offspring just may master story telling before they graduate. There happen to be a couple kiddos in our home who don't embrace the written word like their mother does, but after reading through the first lesson plan for the third to seventh grade level I think this program just might work for us. Lesson 1 is very simple: write a two word sentence:

*****
{After giving the example of a two word sentence "Bill ran" the instructions tell the student:}

You're going to write a two word sentence. Write it on other paper.

Did you write a two-word sentence? If your two-word sentence starts with Bill and ends with ran, write one on a different paper using different words. If you didn't start with Bill and end with ran, don't write another sentence.

Wait! Read that paragraph again. You must do exactly what it says. If you're in any doubt about what it means, tap yourself lightly on the nose - and read it again.

{Room to write another sentence.}

If you wrote "Bill ran," read the paragraph again. If you wrote a two-word sentence that starts with a person or a place or a thing and ends with an action word, you might have written a good sentence.

Tell your parent that you're at the end of day one. Did you do it? DO IT!
*****

I think Mr. Dave Marks has taught a child or two how to write before. Starting with a two word sentence begins a year long journey into character development, point of view, and paragraph control with a few laughs and hopefully less stress and nagging than we've had in previous attempts.

Ready or not, homeschool year 2012-2013 is about ready to begin.

Home Made Goat's Milk Soap Laundry Detergent

A few months back I had a fiasco soapmaking issue. It turns out that if you forget to cut a large log of plain goat's milk soap for five days the odds of ever being able to cut such bar short of a saw is impossible. So, I handed it over to Cole as he was requesting the privilege of shredding it. He got out the old grater and in no time we had a paper bag of soap slivers. The bag sat in my soap closet, forgotten, until a couple of weeks ago when I finally remembered to pick up the supplies to make homemade laundry detergent. After a short trial, and umpteen loads of laundry already, I'm lovin' it! What I really love is the cost, as I am hoping to not have to buy laundry soap supplies again until the New Year, and all for less than a $15.00 investment.

Since we have lots of farm clothes and kids who like to get dirty, I added some powdered Clorox stain fighter and color booster for an extra "oomph" to the standard recipe. For super sensitive skin the Clorox could be left out.

My recipe:

1 cup grated, plain Goat's milk soap
1 cup Borax
1 cup Washing Soda
1 cup Clorox stain fighter and color booster


Add 1 tablespoon per regular load of laundry. Vinegar can be added to the rinse cycle if you have a really dirty/smelly load.

I mixed up a gallon jar of it, tied a pretty bow around the top and found a vintage tablespoon to throw in for measuring. It looks so cute in my laundry room:))

The Smell of Fall

With three bucks locked in a stall in the goat barn, the smell of Fall is in the air. I can feel the shift of the seasons beginning in my own body and mind as well. The slowing down of summer chaos has begun, and I am beginning to relish the thought of lazy, snowy afternoons with a cup of hot chocolate and books to read or write.

Home school thoughts are creeping in. Not that any of us are quite ready for it yet, but we're getting closer to being ready for it. I have yet to begin to put together any official curriculums, but rather have a vague list in my head of who needs what. When the gumption strikes(and Lord willing it will strike this week, perhaps after the corn is picked and put away in the freezer and the tomatoes have been canned)I will attempt to niche out a couple of quiet hours and type up a schedule and dig through the shelves to see if we need to order additional books. I have successfully ignored WalMart for several consecutive weeks, but I may have to break down to take advantage of their pencil sales.

This may be, by far, the easiest Fall farm preparation we have had since moving to this abandoned plot of our dreams. There are no falling down barns this year, no plastic to staple up to block the drafts, no half-built chicken coops to finish trimming before the frost comes, and no imminent projects to finish. The calves have shelter, the goat stalls all have gates, and the chicken's toes should stay warm in their insulated abode.

Soon the pigs will be shipped off to the locker plant. I never have to feel like we waste any food with pigs around as every little scrap is fed back to ultimately feed us back. The three steers will be a bit smaller this year as we have refused to pay the high prices of corn, but God always makes it enough. The three young steers are growing just fine on grass, and given the state of the pastures they make me think again that we could have raised four.

There are eight does to condition for the upcoming breeding season which ushers in the dreaming season of spotted kids in early 2013. Soap classes continue to be a success, and an invitation to host a goat's milk soap booth this fall at a local event is a good sign that their livelihood on the farm is secure.

The garden is dwindling down. It hasn't been a stellar year, but we have had it so much better than most of the country. If my world wasn't so consumed by grief I would probably be much more appreciative of the lush green that surrounds us up North.

Thanking God, again, for His sustenance on OurCrazyFarm.

The Fair

The 2012 Fair season is officially over, and we survived. Three hundred and sixty some odd days until we get up the gumption to do it again. Our little community has two Fairs that we are eligible to enter, and of which we usually gladly do our part to support. What began years ago as a nice addition to our home schooling has become a bit of a ruling force of our summers, but none of us complains too loudly, especially when the Fair checks arrive in our mail box.

Being a person who enjoys new projects, deadlines, and working until 2:00 in the morning to finish a quilt makes the Fair appealing. This year we broadened our horizons and entered about every category from natural sciences to baking, gardening to woodworking, paper mache to bead work, cheeses to butter, and the political realm to photography.

Cole also entered chickens for the first time, and his rabbits for a second year. He came away with some blue and red ribbons, and even a grand champion for showmanship. I came away with nearly a hundred pictures of a boy who had nowhere to hide as he stood before the judges stand.

Joy Revealed

First Peter is my go-to book of the Bible when I am longing for a reminder of God's good plans. Under the chapter title I have recorded that I am on my sixth reading since last summer, and I am sure that I have referenced it more often than that these many months. They say the days are long but the years are short. Some days seem to never end with grief, but then I look up and try to figure out where a year and a half has gone; a year and a half closer to heaven.

I always tend to stay quite a while in the first couple of paragraphs, relishing Peter's words. I sometimes think of the writers of Scripture and wonder if they had any idea of the plans that God had for their work of recording His words, wonder if they thought those words were futile and if it was really God behind them. Scripture is certainly a living and active work of art; a love letter to God's children. Today I couldn't get past the first sentence before I was in tears, overwhelmed by the thought:

“To God's elect, strangers in the world.”

I woke up yesterday pondering thoughts of joy. As I have persisted, along with others, praying for the return of joy I realized the root of my discontent. My joy had always been based on this world, fixed here on the next project, the next achievement, the next experience. Since Trent has died everything here is now compared to heaven, and nothing can come close to satisfying. A stranger, yes; I am a stranger in this world. I trudge along because I must, performing my tasks but always longing to be “home.”

Alexis recently asked me to pray that God would draw her nearer. I kissed her pretty forehead and told her that I have been for quite some time. She smiled. As I walked away I choked back more tears, remembering my own pleas to be drawn nearer to God; prayers whispered just weeks before the accident.

I know being drawn nearer means being shattered by glory. God rarely ever uses anybody without wounding them first. Not a cruel wounding, but a physicians scalpel that must go deep to save a person's soul. I ask for a gentle drawing nearer for this girl who is already walking closer to her God than I am. I see Him in her. I don't want her wounded. In my flesh I want what the world wants for her: a long life full of happiness and smiles, not growth and pain and depth to cause her to know God more. I hand her over, again~ as if she was ever mine to offer in the first place. I repeat my trust in God's good plans. I allow Him to be God.

Peter says that trials come into our lives so that our faith~ of greater worth than gold~ may be proved genuine and result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed (1 Peter 1:7).

I am not a Bible scholar, but I understand this verse to mean an ultimate glory, not primarily a temporal one that we will see with lights blazing here. God has revealed Himself to be more patient than I am, and perseverance must be of great benefit because often He withholds things for a long time, even the revealing of His glory. We learn to walk by faith, not by sight, as we wait; battling all the while to know what we thought we knew; a constant war-ground where truth must conquer in our lives~ the truth of Scripture.

“Though {I} have not seen Him {Jesus} {I} love him; and even though {I} do not see him now, {I} believe in him and am filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for {I} am receiving the goal of my faith, the salvation of my soul.” 1 Peter 1:8-9

Joy will return. Its depths will not be found in goats and gardens and projects anymore, but in the faithful God who has opened my eyes through suffering and has promised so much more than what I can see here.

Ponderings of Mice and Men

The weather is turning cooler, and the sputtering air conditioner is turned off (hopefully) for the summer. Another indicator of the subtle change in seasons is the fact that we have little furry brown visitors. As I sat in the early quiet, enjoying the hush of the house this morning, I heard pitter-pattering feet scurry across the dining room. Eeek! It headed right under my computer desk, so I get up and carry the laptop to my comfy chair instead in an attempt to de-clutter my brain. Along the way I grab the fat barn cat who is sitting outside on the covered porch hoping that she is hungry and will do her job; no luck, she heads to the dog food dish. When Grace comes downstairs and hears the news she brings in the orange kitten, too, and goes on a mouse hunt herself, ever the critter collector. I will be going on a trap hunt soon, hoping Cole will set it and check it for me over the course of the day. I put the foot rest up on the recliner and let the chaos continue.

Words have seemed to elude me this summer; their return is as of a welcomed friend. Neither writing them nor reading them have been much comfort as of late, but this morning they seem to flow. Maybe the barometer shift has brought freedom with it as well.

The thought dawned on me the other day that I've been crying for nearly a year and a half. Sometimes I wonder if that is too long, or not long enough. I wonder if there could possibly be any more tears. Often they are just dry sobs, as if the well has run dry and lamenting groans will do in their place. I almost wish the old tradition of mourners wearing black would come back into style. My heart is still broken on the inside, but the outside must smile. I wonder if others have truly forgotten, or if they just honestly don't know what to say. Everyday I wake up to the fresh loss of my son. One morning not so long ago I woke up and enjoyed a brief moment of forgetting that he wasn't just in his bed across the hall from me. . .

These words spoke to my soul this morning:

But now, this is what the Lord says –
He who created you, O Jacob,
He who formed you, O Israel;

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name;
you are mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the Lord, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”

Isaiah 43:1-3b

This all still seems so unreal; it still seems like just yesterday Trent was here, and then at the same time it seems like forever since he was here. I remind myself that he is still Trent, he's just in heaven. The battle of fighting for that reality is never ending. Our minds were not made to understand death; the separation is inconceivable.

Silly analogy, but it was so obvious to me: we have had two crying goat kids in the barn for the past couple of days – they're sad because it's weaning time and they can longer be with their beloved momma. As I fed them last night, and then headed outside to feed the rest of the herd, I found myself telling them “It's okay, mommas just on the other side of the wall, soon you'll be together again.”

“Trent's just on the other side; soon you'll be together again,” I heard whispered to myself.

The reality of eternity is unimaginable: eternity. What does a mortal mind even do with that word? Because we only know death here, how do we conceive of forever, and ever, and ever? Which brings back the whole concept of God and His glory, forever, and ever, and ever. What are twelve years here, even fifty years or eighty years, compared to eternity? So I trudge on, fighting to find the joy of the cross set before me.

And there is much joy. Not a worldly joy as I am so used to expecting, but a new-found depth of joy; a joy which has been granted as a privilege only to sufferers. The joy of seeking God, a desperate need of knowing Him and trusting Him; of depending on Him to be who He says He is for the simple reason being that unless He is the Great I AM, this life has no meaning. Chasing the world reveals only futility in the end: Trent took nothing with him to heaven, and neither will I. I seek for treasures that will not tarnish or rust, treasures kept in heaven for me.

But the battle is fierce. Stepping into the ring means you get beat up. When you share the gospel of Jesus, people either repent or rage. I wonder if we really understood eternity, and the cost, if we would be bolder. I wonder at the binding of the truth in our society at large, even in our churches. I wonder why it is so difficult for my brain to understand the words of Scripture, or to live them out.

My tears lately have been over my own sins as well. When you are drawn closer to a holy God, a consuming fire, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, you can't help but see your own failings. The idolatry of looking only to our own short comings should not over-ride the glory of what Jesus did on the cross to pay the price for our salvation, but refusing to look at our own sinfulness is of no benefit either. God has been taking me through a time of chastening lately, and it hurts. I fall at the foot of the cross repeatedly. I am reminded that “A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean” (John 13:10). This chastening reveals much grace if I will choose to see it rather than reject it.

Honestly, I am tired of being grown and sanctified, chiseled and shaped, pounded and hammered. My flesh likes its current state of sinful indulgence most days, and looking like Christ is not my top priority in my own will. But God doesn't let His children go their own way, He sanctifies them for His own glory, to reveal Himself in them, not to reveal their greatness in obeying Him. Therefor, I find much hope in the fact that God continues His molding in my life.

So as I raise my hands in surrender, acknowledging that I really can't do this: can't persevere on my own, can't control sin on my own and can't change my wicked heart on my own, God has me right where He wants me: walking by faith, not by sight; trusting Him to do it all, trusting Him to be faithful, trusting Him to be “that good.”

A Dog and His Boy

The memories would be a lot fonder if the boy was actually his boy...

and the dog was actually his dog...

instead of being the neighbor dog.

If only

I wish I had my camera back so I could have recorded some of the memories of this past week:

Pictures of two boys playing basketball in a downpour of rain; to remember their grinning faces and the giggles of fleeting childhood; mud running down their backs from playing in the puddles and dirty floors as an aftermath.

The big brown UPS truck arriving with a daughter's new book, even if it was a day late; the smile of a budding author as she emerges using the gifts that God has blessed her with.

Blue ribbons and purple ribbons, and even a "Best of Class" in our local county fair that brought many grins to kids and adults alike. The simple memories of late, late nights of working together and of labeling a couple hundred projects just to keep our word.

I'd take pictures of the goats that are actually inside of a fence eating what they are supposed to be eating; pictures of the kittens and new chicks, and of the frogs that escaped their jar to hop around my living room; Dads on motorcycles, new dirt bike helmets arriving, and bicyle rides; picking grass for the bunnies and overflowing bean baskets being hauled in from the garden; of little girls painting pink toenails, and glimpses of making a batch of soap with a sweet friend.

But since the camera is still in the fix it shop, and moms should not sit at computers all day, and because clothes wash and so do bodies, I had better go win myself a mud fight while the opportunity is still available.

Fair Pictures

Even in laughter the heart may ache. Proverbs 14:13a

I'm thanking God today that the camera decided to break after most of the Fair pictures were taken, rather than before. If you are a Fair entering family you know the frenzy that is going on at our house this week. There are projects galore spread all throughout the house. Most of our lists are nearly done, but there may be some late nights for an overzealous teenager.

A Fair favorite: trick photos {{{{hee-hee-hee ha-ha-ha}}}}
.

Riding Lessons

Goats

We've still been playing our daily game of "chase the goats" around here. We keep telling them that all they have to do is stand in their lush green pasture and eat the grass, but Nooooo, they insist on sneaking through the fence to eat in the horse pasture. Then, not being satisfied with the grass that was on that side of the fence, they sneak through yet another fence to eat in my yard or flower gardens. Their favorite variety seems to be the morning glories that we have waited for two years to bloom. Another strand of electric fence just went on the never-ending list. Goats .... you've gotta love 'em to keep 'em.