Not Always Rosy

I generally try to keep this little bit of the worldwide web filled with positivity. A positive attitude is a good thing. But it isn't always reality.

By the end of the week, our long-time farm employee will be moving on. Jake has been with us for 13.5 years. We wish him and his family the absolute best. Interviewing potential new employees is stressful. And no matter who we choose, we know there's a learning curve for everyone -- including us.

About the same time Jake resigned, we had a water leak going out to the corral. We have self-waterers there so the cattle can drink as they please. It's also a convenience for us, since it's one location where we don't have to haul water or break ice.

Of course, it happened on a Friday and a plumber couldn't come until Monday. Then they came and didn't bring a backhoe (even though Randy told them they'd need one). And they didn't show up again until the next day. Thankfully, there was still water at the house. 

By the time they got here, both self-waterers were frozen. (I didn't get a photo, but Randy covered them with a tarp and put a space heater underneath. Eventually, they thawed out.)

And we've lost two pregnant cows in the last couple of weeks. One laid down on an incline and couldn't get back up. Another one had unexplained paralysis in its rear legs and had to be put down. We don't want any animal to suffer. And it's not very good on the financial bottom line either.

No, I can't always wear my rose-colored glasses. But, I'm still thankful every day for the beauty all around me ...

and for the lives with which we are entrusted.

I see faces like this one - less than 12 hours old - and I'm thankful ... despite broken pipes and uncertainty.

Sky High

From my vantage point, a summer sky (July 13) provided a beautiful backdrop to my trip to deliver supper and shuffle vehicles from one field to the other.

But, on the other side of the storm, an EF-3 tornado was romping through a rural landscape much like my own, toppling power poles, upending trees like Tinkertoys and tearing a family's get-away cabin into pick-up-stick-like pieces.

While I waited for the guys to get to my end of the field for their taco pizza supper, I took a photo of a sky that reminded me of an alien mothership, hovering over a neighbor's soybean field. A county away, a farmer was losing his soybean field to 165 mile per hour winds.

We give great value to eyewitness accounts. We want reports from the people who are there, recording history as it happens.

But as I watch beautiful Kansas skies, I have come to a realization. Our eyewitness account often depends on what direction we're facing. Context colors our experience.

Our experience may be standing right under the storm cloud as life tosses us to and fro at a whim. Or we may view the storm from a distance and not personally witness its fury. 

Life is like that, too. Unless we are personally experiencing the storm, we don't understand its every nuance. If we're not the ones being struck by the "lightning" of the storm, we can't really speak to the experience.

We can be empathetic. We can be sympathetic. But maybe our best response is just to listen to the eyewitness, no matter how tempting it is to add our perspective.

Lessons from a 3 Year Old

Lessons from a 3 Year Old

Life can be scary. Sometimes, just like Kinley, I want to stand on the sidelines, my arms crossed across my body, to protect myself from the unknown. I want to guard myself against the things I don't understand and changes that come despite my inner need for consistency and routine. I like my comfortable little world with its handy to-do list.

Other people seem to glibly run through their own version of a three-ring circus (or four-ring, as the case may be).

It may look like fun, but who knows what scary encounters may be lurking in the mist of the unknown?

It's tempting to reach in and test the water first. (And, sometimes, that's the smartest course of action, too.)

But jumping in with both feet usually has its own rewards.

Sometimes, you're all ready to go. You've planned. You've prepared. You have your helmet in place, just in case.

There are reliable people along your path, just waiting to point the way.

You have good friends with whom to travel.

But you still have to steer to stay on course. (That can sometimes be a problem if you're not looking in the right direction.)

And the unexpected can happen. A pedal falls off your well-oiled plans, and the tools aren't immediately there to fix the problem. 

Thankfully, there are people there to help pick up the load and help out. (Thanks, Grandpa!)

Let's face it: Life can be loud and confusing - like rapid, booming, can't-catch-your-breath between fireworks. On July 3rd, as a quiet suburb sounded more like a shooting range, Kinley covered her own ears, nestled in protective laps and had Mommy or Grandma cover her ears for even more insulation from the cacophony of sound.

But after a prelude of sparklers on July 4th, she joined the rest of us, oohing and ahhing, as the sky lit up with streaking color ... and considerable noise!

"Oh, it's so beautiful," became the evening's go-to phrase.

 

It was a dramatic change of view. Sometimes, you have to embrace your fears with both hands. Sometimes, it just takes a change of attitude. 

Her 10-month-old sister is teaching me things, too. Sometimes, you just have to let go. If you fall, you get back up and try again.

Blurry photo, but it shows she's trying to walk!

Often, there are helping hands just out of view that help us from plunging off into the abyss.

And, it's good there are people around to help give us a push from time to time, too.

From Where I'm Standing

We don't have a clear view of the sunset from our front porch. At this time of the year, as the wind has carried away the summer's leaves from the shelterbelt across the road, our sunset sky is punctuated with branches in silhouette. In the summertime, we can barely see a glimpse of the western, sunset sky if we don't change positions and walk down the road.

Our outlook is colored by where we're standing, isn't it? It's tinged by what's standing in our way. It's colored by the journey we've taken during our lifetimes. The hue is different, depending upon whether it's been a day of blessings or a day of struggle. Even those of us who share a common thread of family or community see situations differently because each of us - and our journeys - are as unique as our fingerprints.

It made me think of the parable I heard as a child:

Once upon a time, there lived six blind men in a village. One day the villagers told them, "Hey, there is an elephant in the village today." 

They had no idea what an elephant was. They decided, "Even though we will not be able to see it, let us go and feel it anyway." All of them went where the elephant was. Every one of them touched the elephant.

Photo from http://www.jainworld.com

"The elephant is a pillar," said the first man who touched his leg. 

"Oh, no! it is like a rope," said the second man who touched the tail. 

"Oh, no! it is like a thick branch of a tree," said the third man who touched the trunk of the elephant. 

"It is like a big hand fan," said the fourth man who touched the ear of the elephant. 

"It is like a huge wall," said the fifth man who touched the belly of the elephant. 

"It is like a solid pipe," said the sixth man who touched the tusk of the elephant. 

They began to argue about the elephant, and everyone of them insisted that he was right. It looked like they were getting agitated. A wise man was passing by, and he saw this. He stopped and asked them, "What is the matter?" They said, "We cannot agree to what the elephant is like." Each one of them told what he thought the elephant was like.

The wise man calmly explained to them, "All of you are right. The reason every one of you is telling it differently because each one of you touched the different part of the elephant. So, actually the elephant has all those features you said."

"Oh!" everyone said. There was no more fighting.

The sunset itself doesn't change if I look at it from another vantage point. But my perspective does. There's probably a life lesson there ...

Lessons from a High School Musical

We all need a little help from our friends. It's true whether you're Dorothy Gale, traveling the unfamiliar territory of the Land of Oz, or you're in a waiting room at a hospital, waiting on news from a surgery.

Earlier this month, I went to my alma mater, Skyline High School, to see my niece, Madison, as Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. The unspoken messages have stayed with me long after the familiar strains of "We're Off to See the Wizard" and the applause faded away.

Dorothy is a dreamer. She doesn't get right home from school because she's too busy picking flowers, watching clouds and dreaming about faraway places Over the Rainbow. Sure, she loves her family and her home, but it's a big world out there, and she's curious about what she would find if she could just get away from RFD 2 and explore it.

But then a tornado carries Dorothy far away from the familiar Kansas homestead she shares with Auntie Em and Uncle Henry. And, all of a sudden, Dorothy's biggest goal is to get back back home to the very place that she dreamed about escaping. I've been there. You want to escape a place or a situation, and then when it happens, you realize that it wasn't so bad after all.

Dorothy becomes a hero to the Munchkins after inadvertently crushing the Wicked Witch. The little ones are glad to point her on the way to the Land of Oz, where they advise visiting the Wizard for a way to get back home. Little ones often point the way, if we just listen.

There are other predictably helpful people along the journey, like the Good Witch.

Photo by Caden Patterson from Facebook. My photos with the Good Witch were blurry.

Sometimes, the people who think they are lacking some important attribute just don't realize how valuable they are.

The Scarecrow didn't think he had a brain. But he supplied much of the know-how and logic to get Dorothy where she needed to go.

The Tin Man thought he didn't have a heart. And the Cowardly Lion was sure he didn't have enough courage to make the trip. But they found enough of both to help Dorothy escape the Jitterbugs and the Wicked Witch's equally wicked sister.

Even the scary things sometimes don't look as scary when the lights come up.

We may be walking a yellow brick road or city streets. We may have to stop and get the rocks out of our shoes as we walk pebbly dirt roads. Obstacles inevitably come our way. They take a million different forms - whether situations or people or even just doubting ourselves.

But we find the most valuable asset isn't what we're wearing, even though those ruby slippers do have pizazz. And it's not always the expert who helps us find our way. It's often in the brains and heart and courage and prayers of the ordinary people around us.  They are the ones who help us find the rainbow's treasure. And we don't need a Wizard to help us when God is there for each and every step, through the hills and the valleys. Thanks, my friends. Please keep the prayers coming for Randy.

Everyday Easter

It's easy to celebrate Easter when you're singing "Up From the Grave He Arose." That high F just seems to soar on a such a day of celebration: Friends are in their Sunday best, and little ones race toward the front of the sanctuary for Children's Time, girls twirling their fancy dresses and boys smoothing down their brand new shirts as the preacher tells the Good News, "Christ is risen! Hallelujah!"

And we rejoice, too. The somber message of Maundy Thursday and the darkness of Good Friday give way to Resurrection light.

But kind of like those new shoes we break out for Easter Sunday, life starts "rubbing" on us. And it causes discomfort - and maybe even blisters - as we plod along through worry and uncertainty and just plain living.

And it feels like darkness overtakes us. It doesn't feel much like Easter anymore.

Even though we're surrounded by things, we don't know where to look.

We're tired, and we just want to cry out and quit.

And that's when we can nestle into God's arms, arms that hold us as gently as a Grandma holds a sleeping baby on Easter Sunday afternoon.

Or as joyfully as a new mother coaxes out smiles.

Or a little child makes a new discovery - in tulips ...

... in new adventures like backyard swings ...

and yes, in the miracle of hands and little toes.

And that's when I need to open my eyes again to God's promises ... like the Son breaking through on a cloudy day and illuminating all the lines and wrinkles and details and paths of my life.

And even though I pack away the Easter tree eggs for another year ...

... I need to hold on to the Easter message and its beauty - all year 'round.

And just like at the center of the Easter lily, I can again find the 3 I should make my life's center - Father, Son and Holy Spirit - and I remember Easter all over again.

***

Today I'm again participating in the Leap Into Spring Challenge with Project Alicia , Live and Love Outloud and Bumbles and Light. Today's theme is Easter/Eggs. Check out others' photos and thoughts by clicking on the links.

I'm also linked to Hear It On Sunday, Use It On Monday at Michelle's Graceful: Faith in the Everyday.