Our Gentle Privilege

Sometimes it's embarrassing to admit what's important to our hearts.  In this case the embarrassment lies in the fact that the object of importance is a privilege and, should that privilege be withdrawn, the proper response should be, "alas, it was a gift for a time".  However, this privilege is tightly wound into our love for the place in which we dwell.  This privilege I speak of is the view from Bag End. 

Each morning we discover a surprise: a mysterious fog hiding the shore, a holy mist hovering above the water, a faithful blue heron sneaking between the cattails, or (as delighted in this morning) an artistic life-through-death fall color reflecting on the surface.  The view is a magnet for the eye that few have the power to resist.  It has been the exclamation point on many passages of Scripture and the period at the end of "you only need to be still".*  It is a victim of long gazes as mind games are fought within. 

To put this view-privilege in its place it should be said that among all the sites to behold it is certainly not, nor ever will be, sought after by world travelers.  But it is comforting warmth and refreshing breath to the residents and guests of Bag End.

Not long ago an orange flag marked the beginning of the tainting of the view from Bag End.  After an orange flag would follow a sign; a sign whose intent was to protect and guard against recklessness but whose impact on Bag End was disruption and a bit of marring.  The purity, perhaps, was the loss most felt.  Secret plans to reposition those arrogant orange flags (so as to resposition the placement of The Disruption) thankfully died in right-thinking.  The plans were contemplated in the first place, for you see


the most accurate depiction of my perspective is best captured in the image below.

A problem arose: no one seemed to empathize with my sense of loss (by no one I mean the friend who puts forth great effort to understand me and has done so for nearly two decades).  This could serve as great opportunity to trust my Heavenly Dad with my (back to the first thoughts) embarassing emotions, if the courage to be thoroughly honest could be mustered.  He handled them like a champ and wasn't apalled or frightened by them one bit!  In fact, He succeeded in stirring them in the heat of His love until they melted down into peace.  (The heat was really quite hot though, and it burned.)  But He took all and threw them into the pot.  It must be noted that He didn't take only the mature and selfless ones.  

And so, the story goes on.  The peace came and the new sign-inclusive view would be an altar to remember to pray for the people the sign would protect and to trust, again and again, my Eternal Dad with my heart.

But suddenly one day the shock came too: the permanently placed sign was to be moved.  It was to find its new permanent home a few yards to the east and a few yards out of our gentle privilege.








*Exodus 14:14

Significance is relative

 You might see a narrow dirt road.  If that's what you see, this image probably has very little significance to you.  I see the road that leads to the upper pasture; the road that we took to see the herd of horses at Cran-Hill for the very first time.  There were so many beautiful horses and Ellie was dying to get out of the car and stand at the gate to get a closer look.  She was 13 and her head was full of horse dreams.  Now we travel this dirt road frequently and every time we do one of those horse dreams moves from her head to her reality.  Thank you, Lord for this dirt road.  

You might see an old corn crib.  If that's what you see, this image probably has very little significance to you.  I see a corn crib just like one that set on my Grandpa and Grandma's farm.  Grandma and I passed this corn crib on our way out to the garden to pick dill for the pickles she was canning.  That corn crib was the back drop to my days as a Rosebush girl.  The first time I saw this corn crib at the Ranch, the farm-girl that had been buried (or maybe just tucked away) came to life again.  Thank you so much for this corn crib, Lord.

 It's not a fantastic photo. You may just see the backsides of two horses and the backs of two kids.  But it's a brother and sister who share a love for horses.  It's a teenage girl who takes time to trail ride with her little brother and it's a pre-teen boy who's not too cool to trail ride with his big sister.  It's a result of what Jesus can do for relationships within a family.  Thank you, Jesus for their friendship.

Seeing the Ranch for All that It Is

His Glory in the Storm

We often see storms move in across Hillview Lake.  With south-facing windows, we watch the fearsome clouds fills the sky.  If we're lucky, a strong lightning sequence heads our way.

Wagon Parking Only

Stone House Simplicity

   This is one of my favorite buildings at the Ranch.  It's as unique on the inside as it is on the outside.

Landscape Artist's Dream

Family Camp Haven

The Walk to Worship

One of the best parts of summer is gathering for Chapel in the Pines.  This is the the path that leads to the outdoor chapel.  There is something really special about these mornings.

Peaceful Moments

Splendor Above

Fresh and Clean

A Time to Write

I challenged the kids to set aside some time each day this summer to write.  Writing is a wonderful way to process our thoughts.  It used to feel like a form of torture.  I'm not sure when it stopped feeling that way. Now, if I could, I'd write all day. 

The kids and Trevor were gone the other day and I had a large chunk of uninterrupted time on the horizon.  I also had this memory of a commitment I'd made to Tate that had been haunting me for weeks.  So the commitment and the time on my hands made a deal.  I scoured my old journals and notebooks for the bits and pieces of notes I'd jotted in the margins the past 3 years. These notes were for the book I promised Tate we'd write and illustrate together.  I took the ripped out pages, my Bible, paper, pen and a bottle of water and climbed up on our roof.  (The thought was that the view would be inspiration for creativity.) 

Reading through my past scribbles, there was some pretty good stuff!  I didn't use any of it.  I tucked it all away in the notebook pocket.  Empty lined paper sat in my lap and I closed my eyes.  I wanted to go back to the moments when the idea was first given and remember the impact it had on my heart.  I asked God for help, creativity and ability.

I'm not sure how long it took.  It must have been a while because my water was gone and Ellie was home from picking asparagus and the book was done. 

So, now Tate's filling his first days of summer break with creating the book's illustrations.  When they're complete, we'll be seeking to have it published.  Going for it!

freedom! (well, at least part of the definition)

Freedom is creating something and not being crippled by the potential failure. 

It's not that painting a crazy and colorful design on a lamp shade requires great risk, but it could end up looking awful (and needing replaced). 

In real freedom, I'm free to try it anyway.

I think there are things inside of all of us that we have imagined or envisioned that we keep locked up because of fear. 

Maybe it will look stupid or the colors you pick will blend terribly - it doesn't matter.  Maybe the poem won't inspire anyone or the shelves will be crooked - it doesn't matter.

God has been bringing new freedom as He scrapes away the fear of failure and keeps whispering, "Try it." 

I could argue that when we are creating something, we are caught up in a moment of being the best image-bearer we can be.

In the past week we have made a colorful toilet paper holder, painted a few walls with a splash of color, glued magazine mosaics and, yes, painted a lamp shade in vibrant colors. 

It's been a very free week. 

He has the best ideas

"Oh Marilla, how much you miss." (from Anne to Marilla Cuthbert)

I guess you could call me Marilla, at least until a few days ago.  Instead of giving up something for Lent, God asked me to add something to my daily routine: a walk.  Such a simple thing has brought so much life.  It's often late evening before I have a chance (or take the time) to go for a walk, but the dark winter nights have been incredible.  I'm slightly grieving all the walks I've missed, but no more.  It is too refreshing and empowering to miss these quiet interactions with creation and the Creator.  Today is full of thankfulness for His idea - He knows our hearts!

When I grow up I want to be a destruction worker!

There was something in Jackson's nature that was bent toward being destructive.  It wasn't true all the time, but it would show up in at times and surprise me.  Most of the time, his destructive actions happened when we were outside and the recipient was a section of tree bark or a flower or some path-lining plant.  I remember discussion after discussion with him about not being destructive.  It seemed so contrary to God's character and therefore not a characteristic I wanted to encourage in our son.

Today I see some error in my thinking.  I've been reading through Jeremiah in the Bible and the book is full of destruction.  A "therefore" started clicking:  God is holy and all that He does is holy.  God brings destruction of what's evil. Therefore it can be holy to destroy what is evil.  And that's when the William Wilberforce ghost started flying through my thoughts again (this is the second time in two days! - see article in the National Review about Eric Metaxas).  Wilberforce committed his life to the destruction of the evil of slavery.   

So go ahead, Jackson - build up that part of you that's bent toward destruction.  Just promise me you'll let the Holy Spirit channel it.  Maybe you and I will be a part of destroying something in our culture that's inherently evil.

Know the 1st

Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech.  Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of the press.  So, the press can use it's freedom to abridge our freedom of speech.  Oh, I see. That makes sense.
No, it does not make sense.  It is absurd and non-Constitutional.  But it's the condition of our nation.  Fasten your seat belt if you believe that there are moral absolutes or if you believe that Jesus is the only way.  It's about to get choppy...
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Check out this article.

Homework

The State of the Union is tonight.  The kids were thrilled when they heard their assignment for Social Studies today is watching it and taking notes.  (bit of sarcasm)  I'm trying to create essay questions for them to answer tomorrow regarding the speech.  They love that.  (another bit) There's a small part of me that wants to toss the assignment out the window because they're giving me puppy eyes; but only a small part.

The other part of me wants to teach them how to listen well and carefully weigh the words they hear.  We watched Obama's inauguration and all they remember about that is Aretha Franklin's bountiful bow.  Clearly that school assignment was a "huge" success.  Maybe they won't remember specifics of what our president has to say tonight, but I hope listening adds a layer to the foundation we're trying to build in their brains to process everything; every message...