Two deaths. Two significant deaths have occurred in my world and this morning I was saying that I don't know what I am supposed to feel. I have been saying this a lot lately. Ever since my first husband died in May. He had been sick a few years ago, recovered but then the sickness came back. And 20 minutes before I could get to the hospital to sit w/our son and him, he left. His wife - his beautiful loving wife and kids had been with him all day. His oldest had already booked a flight w/her family to fly out on Mother's Day to spend what they thought would probably be their last time with him. But he couldn't hold on. His oldest son, his and my youngest sat with him and held him at his last breath. And I was there - with the family during those next few days as we all said good-bye. It was hard and awful and sad and I did my best to support our kids and his family and all the while, wondering how do I do this? What am I supposed to feel? I am the former spouse. Do I have a right even to mourn. And there were or might be people wondering why I would be sad...I mean, I divorced him...But I was. I was sad. And also grateful that we had spoken about a month earlier and made peace with each other. And it was such a blessing - a treasure. Something I will be forever grateful for. And I didn't want him to die. I wanted, and still want him to be here for his wife, his kids, the world...because there is a big hole now in the fabric of the universe - of life. I came to an awareness shortly after his death however and it is still something I am wrestling with. I realized I had never mourned the loss of our marriage- our future - our dreams. I knew that unless things changed - we got counseling - did our emotional work - the relationship had to end. And there was sorrow - and pain but that was from the literal act of ending the marriage. It is not easy. And it's not anything anyone should undertake lightly. Although I can't imagine that people do. How could one take it lightly? But it happened and I went on and we all went on living our lives...but I never mourned what didn't come to pass. And it is ok to be sad about that - and sad that things didn't work out when one had so many hopes and dreams - even if they weren't actually practical or realistic maybe. And we continued living. And then a text came from my sister. She told me that my 2nd husband - my friend since our teens - (and should have remained friends - not married but it happened) was in the hospital. I had been told he had melanoma but that apparently was not the issue. Over the next few hours I heard how he had been sick, but gotten better but then had been found by his brother and was taken to the local hospital and it wasn't looking good. I went to see him and to be with my son who had been close to him. Even tho' there had been some hurt feelings. It wasn't the same for my daughter - and didn't have to be. But he had provided for us, he did love us - very deeply and now he was in the hospital and no one seemed to know why. I went and spent a day w/my son - and visiting in the hospital. Maybe two days? I don't actually remember. And my sister came - and our mutual friend who was a steady presence in his life - for many years. And then the stories of what had happened over time were told...and how he got lost but was trying to find his way back to health and wholeness and then this happened. And after a week, we were told he did have a stroke. There was brain damage. But it didn't compute. Especially since he seemed to be deliberately trying to communicate. He even tried to get out of bed. But the dr. said it was all just a reflexive response. But then I was told that when my son walked in his room at one point, his face lit up. I can just see it. It breaks my heart but I do believe he knew that the kid he loved came to be with him. And I went home then came back. But before I came back, I saw a vdieo of him trying to speak. And he even said a sentence. But the dr. said it was a reflex. And then I came back And sat w/him. And tried to get him to respond. But he wouldn't. And now he was DNR. And on morphine. And his nephews and nieces came to see him and say good-bye. And my son sat w/him every day for 2 weeks. And I sat w/him his last night and sang his favorite hymn. And the next morning he was gone. And it broke my heart. And once again, I realized I had not mourned the end of our marriage. The loss of our hopes and dreams. That got buried because I was so angry and having to go through this again - but it's how it worked out. And there were other things I was angry about - and rightfully so but it wasn't a one way street and God my flaws and imperfections did their own damage. Yet after our marriage ended - we stayed friends. Or something. And he even came to my 3rd wedding and visited us and remained close w/my son. Until not. But now I am again saying I don't know how to do this...what am I supposed to feel? How am I supposed to feel? Because it's enough to realize someone significant in your life is gone but then two people!?! Even if imperfectly - we were important to each other at one time. And then aha! I don't have to know how to feel. I just have to feel. To let the emotions break over and in...and while I don't want it to be so much that I can't function - I still have to let the feelings come. And it's exhausting. And painful. And all the regrets and sorrows come crashing in as well. And the self-recriminations. And the coulda - shoulda - wouldas. They are there too. And it's all just one big reminder of how things did NOT go as planned and that was as much my fault as anyone else's. But I wish I could have said good-bye. I wish we could have talked as well. And now there are 2 gone from the fabric. Their shadow, their memory is all that is left in the tapestry. And my present beloved - who has his own health concerns going on - now needs in ways he hasn't before...and I want to be there for him but I'm working at half measure...and it's all so confusing. I mean like what is going on? Is this supposed to be some great life lesson - or just another it is, what it is? And there is no seeming purpose to all this. I mean - we are born, we live, we die - big deal. But that is not a reflection of the faith I profess. But I don't know what happens after we die and I don't know that life - our existence has any more or less meaning other than that we should make the most of our time while we are here - and we should just be kind to one another. Why is that so friggin hard?

In the beginning...all over again.

January 1, 2018 It does not seem possible that it is 2018. At least on the Gregorian calendar. Other calendars indicate different delineations of time. Clearly, our time of existence is far longer than 2000+ years. I woke up around 6:20 to the faith barking of our dogs. It was a bit hard to get out of bed as I did not get to sleep until around 1 a.m. this morning, the second late night in a row. On Saturday, we took our annual pilgrimage to my brother's house in NJ. Since I was reunited w/him and the rest of my biological family in 1999 - I and my family have been invited to his home every year to engage in the holiday family festivities. It is a gift just to be with them. We have a great time. No matter what configuration of family exists at the time of the gathering, we are all welcomed to his table. There are people missing and the ghosts of people I never met but if not for them, (Florence "Ruby" Fertig and Paul DeMartino), I would not be here. More on that later. Anyway - the moon lay abreast of the new fallen snow. I know exactly what image Clement Clarke Moore wrote of in his Christmas poem. That's what this morning's landscape looked like. It is is so beautiful. Then out to feed the animals. We don't have as many as we did in previous years so it doesn't take too long. It has been below 10 degrees every day for the past week. But...but if I remain in my Vera Wang pjs, I can throw on my heavy coat, my gloves and my hat and I am good to go. I know that once you wear pjs out to do chores, you are officially a farm woman but not sure there are too many who wear Vera Wang out to do so. But I did it last week since I was just too tired to change before going out and I discovered that as cold as it was, my pjs kept me warm. The really cool thing is they don't make me sweat when I am sleeping and these are fuzzy and cozy. So, Vera Wang - i've always enjoyed your fashions although I don't wear them but I now have my own VW pjs thanks to Hubby and Christmas and they are simply the best. Hubby wanted to know what they are made of and it's synthetic polyester and some stretchy fabric. But 10 degrees is not pj outdoor weather so the fact that I can comfortably finish chores and not be chilled says something. Can I be your spokeswoman VW? We'll be seeing friends later. We got to see another couple last night. It was totally impromptu but our timing was pretty good. We stopped by just as they finished dinner. Since it was still out on the table, they asked us to have some - scallops and fettucine. Great New Year's Eve supper w/homemade cookies for dessert. It felt very holiday-ish. I like to connect w/people so I was really happy Hubs agreed. We also wanted to see if they knew the whereabouts of another dear friend. She had gone back to family for the holidays. It was a hard year for her. Her beloved died unexpectedly in September and I know it's completely rocked her world. The rest of us who were friends to both are also recovering so I can only begin to imagine what she is feeling. It happened so damn fast. But not just to us. Others have written about the newly empty spaces in their lives. And we all keep promising to do better at staying in touch. At coming together. At not letting time slip away from us but I'm not sure how this year will be different form last year. Can we truly change the future outcomes ala Ebenezer Scrooge? Can we change ourselves enough to make room for the truly important? What do I have to let go of to make sure that my actual relationships will blossom and grow? I am probably going have to drastically reduce my FB time. I am returning to school - for my Masters in Clinical Counseling w/MSW hopefully along w/a Spiritual Direction certificate. It will be the culmination of my educational aspirations, which I have carried for many years. Not that achieving them will signal the end of the educational endeavors. Hopefully I will be open and able to learning till my last breath. And hopefully, I will navigate the choppy waters of our national circumstances and now allow the toxins of others to poison my heart, mind, soul and psyche. May i be able to enable and ennoble the world in which we live from this day forward. And may those whom I love find the year to come to hold all the good surprises and grace that this cosmos holds.

Moving on

We are winding down. We've barely been farmers for 6 years now but it's time to wind down. This has been on my mind a lot as I consider how physical farming is and how it really can't be done part-time. At least not the amount of work that we need to engage in to get the barn back in shape and do things around the farm yard that will improve it's looks and ability to function. Not sure if the animals are picking up on this. They do their animal thing and trust that we will take care of them. We do our best - but still haven't outwitted the fox or raccoon that have visited recently. The containers that hold food are broken into and a couple of our older birds have died from old age, or been on the menu for another creature. I consider this element of life also a lot as I think about the many, many posts of animals getting along and acting all cute and cuddly. And they very well may feel that way the moment the picture is snapped. But give it a few minutes or a day or two and there is no more cute n cuddly photo op. That animal may be raging against who knows what or it turns on it's best friend, human or otherwise. We can't fully, completely control what anyone else, including animals do...so we need to be wise when we engage with them. Even the most trustworthy of pets can snap and bite if sick, injured or feeling cornered. It isn't thinking about it's relationship with the other live being in the scenario...it's acting on instinct and that instinct can direct it to self-protective behavior. When our 100% lovable mini-Schnauzer was still with us, people would ask if they could pet her. And they'd ask if she bit. I said she never had but I would never 100% say it couldn't happen. She was a dog. (She never did bite anyone throughout her days...not even Ivanhoe the cat who would ambush her from the futon in the living room and then engage in a wrestling match.)

Week of July 3, 2016

I am thinking and thinking about what, if anything to write that hasn't been said or referenced already in the last few days. As a preacher/pastor, I feel obligated to say something but I don't want to add more words to the fray, or repeat previous thoughts ad nauseum. I want what I say to be measured and well thought out, providing insight perhaps, while suggesting some kind of action that will help heal and not hurt but all I can come up with at this moment is that the words need to "comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable." So, nothing original there...I can't speak as a person of color, although as a woman I have experienced some level having my worth devalued in our patriarchal society, not earning the equivalent amount as a male would for the work I've done and do. And that would only be a part of the injuries that occur when not in the power position. And I do recognize that my status as a white woman still offers more security and status than if I was a person of color. I recognize and accept that the system is racist...it's biased and prejudiced as well. This has to be acknowledged if we are ever going to begin to change it. I know as well what it feels like to wear the blue thus becoming another kind of target for those who see that color and not the person wearing it. For a small short while in the "80's, I was employed as a police officer. Yes, it was for a college campus but one that was situated in the middle of a large township, with its own diverse identification: white, blue and pink collar, still rural oasis as well as suburban tracts, black, brown, white; different ethnicities, different religions, it was all going on back then. Upper, lower and a robust middle class. The job was campus security but the training was police procedures and firearms training and being located in such a way that people who may have had nothing to do with the school could drive through the campus, most just going about their business but who knows what a traffic stop might produce? And who knew when someone might be driving through, getting stopped and deciding they didn't want to be scrutinized by law enforcement officers? Hey, it could have been anyone who didn't take kindly to blue and blue made the wearer a target. I experienced that for about 8 months at a time when I had two young children at home whom I was trying to provide for while at the same time, paradoxically putting myself in a slightly more than ordinary vulnerable position. But it was a position that provided health benefits, a paycheck (which for the record I am only making $2000.00 more some 30 plus years later in a professional job) and some stability. Well stability for the most part. It was also a shift job which meant my working hours changed every 6 weeks. That did not work for me. My body did not adjust well to those insults to my system and I missed seeing my kids on the days when I worked as they attended day care and then by the time we met up, it was dinner and bed time for them. That was enough. But this isn’t about my life - or is it? Is it about how I was trying just to get through each day that the injustices and wrongdoings that I was aware of in my consciousness weren’t anything I thought I could actively address? Is that how it is for others? Just trying to get through each day, keeping the kids fed, spending a moment or two with spouse that there isn’t any room for anything else…is that what’s keeping the system from changing? Is it maybe a part of it? Or is it the BIG STUFF, the ugly racist beliefs that keep being passed on down from generation to generation? The idea that the color of someone’s skin is the thing that determines whether or not a person lives or dies; or gets a chance at redemption; or is included in the power board and broker rooms where decisions get made that affect the global population? And how do I go up against the institutionalized separation, the forces of degradation, the lies that keep humans separated? I’ve been told I hate my own race (a mix of any number of influences I’m sure – no purity test here) which would make me laugh except that it allows that person to remain distant or uncaring about the real issues that need to be acknowledged and then addressed. Acknowledging the wrongdoing of past and present and how I as a white woman benefit from that has NOTHING to do with me hating my race. It’s possible I may feel hatred towards those who keep the system going or those who do actual harm to another human being because of their skin color or culture. But hate isn’t going to help here or anywhere. I read a book in seminary – Dismantling Racism and I believe it spoke of the fact that race itself doesn’t exist…it is a cultural construct. There is no such thing as race, biologically speaking. It came into existence so that one group of people could claim superiority and authority over another. And we see how that has worked. But just recently, I started another book about how trying to dismiss the whole notion of race, dismisses the conversations around it and attempts to change the way the issues are dealt with. I don’t know right now. I know my brothers and sisters of color are tired and heart sick and they have every reason to be. So are my brothers and sisters in blue but there are very distinct, differing reactions to the events of this week and until they are addressed and dealt with in ways radically different from what we’ve been doing, we will not move past this place that we now find ourselves in. Earlier I said I wanted to respond in an even, measured way, a way in which the volatility of the circumstances would not be recharged but as I responded to a post earlier in the week, I find myself, coming up with this response – Shit. Just Shit. This is all bullshit and while I am not directly involved I am as a human being affected by what is happening in my country. I want to cry and mourn with those who mourn. I want to bring healing to the wounded. And I want to just punch my fist in rage… I want people to understand that there is s systemic difference in the way some of those in blue deal with those whose skin is black or brown or something other than “Caucasian.”” I heard first hand conversations in the academy about how a suspect would be stopped or approached for a traffic violation perhaps. Which already tells you something. Why is one particular motorist, JUST a motorist in one traffic stop but in another, a SUSPECT? Why would a black/brown/Hispanic driver be stopped for driving through Deal NJ in a) a used, kind of dumpy car or b) a luxury model, current year? Don’t know? Well, there are NO residences in Deal who would be housing a used, dumpy kind of car…Long Branch, Asbury Park, sure but not Deal. So, said person must be in the neighborhood for no reason - well, a reason, probably drugs. OR, there is no possible way that a person of color would be driving a current year luxury model car through Deal, because, well, no one of that description would be living in Deal. So, it must be stolen. I couldn’t believe it when I heard these conversations. They took place around the time that DWB was becoming a thing. Although it hadn’t reached Alphabet soup acronym status yet…it was being called profiling. And I was naïve to think it worked any other way. The rationale was that you need to know what’s out of place…an early version of “see something, say something.” So, jump to now. What I can I do? I can use the power and authority of the pulpit to speak out against violence – violence of any kind. But I can also name the wrong that is being done to the black/brown/people of color community. I sometimes hesitate when I am in that position of power because I like to speak of the church community as “we.” We worship together, we commune together, but do we really suffer together? People who look like me don’t experience what others do. I may be vulnerable as a woman, but not as a woman of color. I serve, as part of our congregation a black couple…in their 80’s. They are our lovebirds…the couple who laugh and joke about each other and invite us into that. But they also have had experiences that none of us has ever had. And while they invite us in, it is only to a point. And so, I always ask how they are doing, I call when they don’t come to church to make sure things are ok…I was told, by one of them that they had been through some tough times. And as I attempt to speak out against racial bias and prejudice, I sometimes wonder if they want to hear me say anything about what they might actually have gone through. If I do, will it come off as pontificating or just espousing thoughts with no real meat to back them up? It occurs to me that this is not the first summer of such discontent. Back in the 60’s, neighborhoods around the country were going up in flames, flames fanned by too many years of being discriminated against, being lynched, being abused…and the only reason for it was a longstanding notion that people of color do not deserve or get to be treated well, hell, treated as humans by the white class…the “ruling” authority. South Africa engaged in apartheid, so did we. In our own ways. And it wasn’t in far off places, but 45 minutes north in Newark, and 5 minutes away, in Matawan…the borough. The citizens of the “black” part of town were feeling what people today are feeling. Angry, tired, scared, uncertain and insecure. And the citizens of the “white” neighborhoods apparently didn’t really care. They wanted those other folks to stop whining, stop trying to change things, accept their “place” as it was determined by the white citizens. Preachers are preaching, some are seeking calm, others calling for change, RIGHT NOW before another black son, father, brother, uncle, best friend is gone. And that is regardless of his past. If those situations involved a white “suspect” I am about 99% sure that the men would be alive. Does this condone the take down of the officers in Texas – No. But it does reflect the frustration of a group who are targeted on a regular basis. And at this point in time, I am not sure that it has been determined who fired on the officers. Was it payback or was it an attempt to instigate more violence. Here’s the thing. Violence does begets violence. And what will that accomplish? NOTHING. And people like former Senator Joe Walsh ( not of the band.) need to keep their horrid thoughts to themselves.. Free speech is part of our heritage but inciting violence against our President…that could be considered treasonous. Sad thing, he isn’t alone. We know people in our neighborhoods who have verbalized the same thoughts. You don’t have to like the President but targeting him because of his skin color, inciting violence against him…your hands are dirty. Anyone who incites or engages in violence against others are dirty…the Church has its own handwashing to do when violence occurs seemingly condoned by it – generated by the things the Church says about another marginalized group – the LGBTQ community. We the Church must also take a stand against all the violence that is occurring, especially against those who use their platforms to demean, degrade and denigrate others. This is not how Christians are to behave so if you call yourself a Christian yet engage in racist, prejudiced, hateful ways against others then you need to be called to account. And then to consider how Jesus holds both you and the object of your disdain in his arms. (Had I written earlier in the week, this would have been a reflection on what it means to observe or celebrate or ignore the whole 4th of July happening. It probably would have included something about our son spending the weekend with us and how much I wish we lived closer to him, his sister and her family.)

One stream of consciousness thought... Just now · When I moved to Greene County NY after marrying David Tipple, (8/8/98) he as a pastor and I as a student pastor joined the Catskill Ecumenical Group. While it initially began for only clergy members, we extended the invitation to the laity - baptized members of a Christian congregation who are also imbued with gifts of the Spirit for ministry - living out Christ's call to us. I don't remember when it started but shortly thereafter, 3 congregations decided to meet during the summer, sharing pastors and pulpits. The 3 congregations who did this were the AME Zion Church on Water Str., in Catskill, The United Methodist Church on Woodland Avenue and The First Reformed Church, Catskill, 310 Main St. We'd decide before June where we'd meet and who would preach. Over the next few years, it grew into a full communion of believers, brothers and sisters in Christ, who worshiped, prayed and sang together. I don't think I need to point out why this was a truly moving and faithful experience. If you know anything about church denominations and separations, you know that for at least 3 months, there was a reprieve of Sunday a.m. worship being an example of the most segregated times of the week. The summer worship gatherings continue these days but only between Catskill UMC and First Reformed. After the previous and much beloved pastor, Rev Moses Carter left, the Bishop of that conference told the congregation they could no longer continue to engage in worship together. It wasn't racist - he would not be in a position of power w/in the whole system although he could be biased or prejudiced against the white congregations. I don't know and we've never heard. I think it was one of the worst things to happen to our community. The Ecumenical Council still works together, with white, black and occasionally the Hispanic congregation present but we should still be coming together to worship. Especially after a week such as this.

Who Are We? The RCA decision to prevent full inclusion in the life of the Church by those who are LBGTQ

I just read a commentary written by a sister in the denomination in which I serve - The Reformed Church in America. We are a denomination born out of the Protestant Reformation and in the 1700's evolved from being the Dutch Reformed to the RCA...(google for more information.) My sister spoke of how our General Synod gathering this year was filled with hatred and mean spiritedness. (GS - time of decision making also Google) After hearing the decision to try and rework our polity (form of governance) it so unnerved her that she felt she needed to self-injure to move the pain from her heart and mind to her body - in order to alleviate it. This pain stems from being told that she as a Queer person is worthless, has no value, should be eliminated etc., etc. But that changed as those of us who are seeking full inclusion for LBGTQ people in the life of the Church reached out to assure her that she is loved and welcomed and is "fearfully and wonderfully made." This compelled me to write and share some thoughts. Last night our classis -(regional governing body) had the opportunity to sit and talk to each other about where we stand on the issue. There are a variety of people with a variety of views on whether or not folks who are LBGTQ should be able to be ordained and married. Yet, while we differ, we were able to sit and share our thoughts respectfully in a safe place and way. This apparently is contrary to what the special council who met in April and our General Synod experienced this year. We heard a report on what occurred at both of these events and frankly I am horrified and disgusted. The point of the special council was to honestly and openly sit and discern together what action the RCA could take going forward about this issue. Several recommendations came out of that discussion but General Synod, which met in June failed to heed any. What happened was a proposal to basically change our polity and elevate marriage to the equivalent of a sacrament. This is not Protestant. This not how we do things. All in the name of keeping same sex couples from being married in the Church and individuals who are called to the ordained ministry from that calling. What really makes my blood boil was hearing that members from other regions did not come to these gatherings in order to wrestle honestly with the issues or what it means to a major section of our denomination - our brothers and sisters in faith...Instead, those gathering were told that they were to take a particular stance and adhere to that stance or else they would face difficult times when they returned home. How dishonest! How disingenuous! And when members of the Body who believe that the "bible says" no to full inclusion, they don't just say it's because of their faith. They apparently do so in the meanest, most derogatory way possible. Shame on them. And these proposals, which are made to prevent members of our denomination from full inclusion took place on the night that Orlando occurred. But Orlando wasn't the only tragedy that took place that night. In our region, a child, just 14 years old, took her life because she was being told s/he wasn't worthy, s/he was a freak, s/he had no value. She was transgender. In this case, it wasn't coming from her church but kids at school. However, this occurs far too often because when people hear church folk saying these kinds of things, it seems to give others a pass to act just as horribly. It shouldn't be happening by anyone. No one has the right to tell another that they have no value or that they can't live their lives in the way that the rest of the Church or society does. We the Church are complicit in these tragedies and we need to acknowledge this. This leads me to ask why ii is only conservative, bible literalists that get to offer commentary on these issues in the news media? There are many ordained individuals who would speak a new or different word on the issue - people who are just as bible literate as the conservative literalists believe themselves to be. The Church and Society needs to hear the position that ALL are welcome at the Table of the Lord and all are invited into full participation into the life of the Church. The LGBTQ community certainly needs to hear this. They need to know they are just as welcome as anyone else to share their love in the marriage arena and serve as ordained ministers. I also want to say is that while some may have a right to believe what they wish, I have heard of NO ONE killin themselves as a result of being loved and supported and invited into the full life of faith - including being able to be married or ordained. But enough people have ended their lives believing the lies that say they aren't good enough, are freaks, and are not welcome into full inclusion. This means more than being tolerated or welcome to join a faith community but not be able to do the things that some say are off limits to them. This is NOT how the Body of Christ should be functioning. We have blood on our hands. In light of that - I also have to say, while many are speaking out against leaving the denomination in order to be present and offer hope for the LBGTQ members who wish to remain in the denomination, I applaud the notion that we are not saying we're taking our ball and going home because things aren't going our way. That is a very mature and faithful way of proceeding forward. But here's the thing. After you've been told for so long that you are worthless; after being told you're welcome to be with us but only to a point; after you've been told terrible things, it has started to sound like the abuse victim who remains in a relationship because "it really isn't all that bad." Or, "this is my home, where else would I go?" We counsel people to leave abusive relationships and make a new start. I'm suggesting that perhaps it is time to consider making a new start. The conversation about marriage and ordination of LBGTQ people has gone on long enough. The arguments against it are the same ones that were made in order to keep women and people of color from full inclusion in the life of the Church. Jesus did indeed say that there was an appropriate time to "shake the dust of your sandals" and move on. Perhaps it is time for us to get shaking and become the community in which EVERYONE can fully participate and are welcome - because they are truly, fully loved. I lift this thought in love as one possible way forward. Anything else seems less than Christian.

The point is...

Sunday: December 27, 2015 Horses got out this morning. I was on my way to church. A congregation of about 13 people. About 6 appeared this morning. It was very similar to Christmas Eve when only 6 of us attended plus the family of four of our organist. It wasn't the end of the world but I keep wondering - focus on church, or on the farm? That is the question. Well, the farm would be doable except that Dave and I are both feeling like we should be wrapping things up, not trying to turn it into a financial success. Fortunately, we have leased some of the land to 3 farmers who grow produce and support CSAs and sell their wares at various farm markets. They are doing what we thought of doing. We also through of establishing a refuge, rescue center for people and animals. That didn't go quite as planned either. But we're hanging in there. We have the 3 horses; Zeus, and sisters Kentucky Rain and Cherry. Here's what I didn't think about when we brought them to live with us. Kentucky and Cherry came in 2010 and were 7 and 8 years old. Zeus came in 2011 or 12 at age 4. Guess what? Horses live until about 25, 30 years old. I will be 86 in 30 years. Dave will be???? So, even as we enjoy them we have to start thinking about their futures. And then there are the pigs. The pigs. Clare who is our 3000 pound pet. And Cinnamon - also a pet. And Bernie and Lil' Spot who make adorable babies. Who grow up. Who need to be fed. Time to reconsider... time to figure out the next round.

Some more random thoughts for 6/24/14

I arrived home about an hour ago from getting my hair done.  It always looks so nice when Leah is finished.  It NEVER looks as nice as when I work on it myself.  Oh well, that's true for a number of people so it's not like it has to be a big issue.  But I want to look put together and professional.  When one of your foster kids compliments you after a visit to the salon by saying, "Now we don't have to be embarrassed when we go out with you,"  you know it's more than just a bad hair day.  That was a genuine comment made a couple of years ago.  It reminded me of being embarrassed by my mom & dad when I was younger although it was more often the case with mom.  From what I know most of us are embarrassed by our parents but it was usually short lived because I didn't want people laughing about or commenting on my parents.  It made me feel sad.   They were older (38) when I was adopted.  That made them rank (at least in years and experience) ahead of pretty much all my friends' parents.  And yes, Mom was overweight.  It definitely stemmed from emotional stuff that she preferred not to deal with but you can't ignore the issues.  They find ways to make themselves known.  Overeating, mood swings, crying jags.  Of course one can experience these as a result of chemical or biological imbalances and life issues are very complex but ignoring the wound inside is generally going to cost something. Because of Mom's issues around eating and almost everyone we ever knew was on a diet, I am aware that my own self-image has suffered.  I look back at pictures of myself, my younger self and wonder why I was so hard-hearted toward me.  There are the pictures that no one would deny aren't flattering but overall, there were as many nice shots of me as not.  But the inner critic wouldn't let me alone.  I was ugly, I was too heavy, it didn't matter what, I could brush off any compliment in record time. 

Now - in my 50's I am really trying to be a lot kinder to myself.  And I do look good in the stylists' chair.  But not only then. 

Small dog goes after something.  Our dog Pansy, the smallest creature in the house things she is a hunter.  Anything that catches her attention sends her into fits of anticipation as she jumps up and down trying to get my attention.  We had already taken our morning walk, successfully when she started the attention dance trying to get me to take her out again.  I did.  Yes, she runs things.  She headed straight for the line of evergreen trees several hundred feet from the house and became frenzied.  For the life of me, I couldn't see anything but she was onto something.  While trying to separate the tightly knit branches of the tree, I heard a hiss.  That did not sound safe.  I manuevered around - on my knees - in my pajamas mind you, trying to see what was making her crazy.  And then I saw brown fur and dark eyes.  It was a baby woodchuck.  Not a newborn but young enough.  Maybe his mom left him there for protection.  Maybe he got lost and found sanctuary.  At this point, this was as far from sanctuary like as it could get but he hung in there and I quickly pulled her away.  (That heavens  I put her on the leash.)  We went back to the house and had breakfast. 

A number of wood chucks make their home on our property.  Another woodchuck story later. 

Spiritual Discipline

It's funny how people pray for things they think they want and then when they get them realize that maybe they didn't want it so much.  Ok, not they - me.  But it's a not uncommon phenomenon.  For my whole life I've wanted a farm. I never thought it would happen that I would own a farm complete with farm animals.  But it happened and for the past 4 years Dave & I have been working on getting the farm back in prime condition.  It's a tough job....a long term project. 
However, what I have come to realize is that the farm is also an answer to prayer, the prayer for spiritual discipline.  Boy - be careful what you pray for.  It has taken a while but I now realize that by having the farm, I am working on my spiritual life at a deep level.  I have come to the point where I find it difficult to keep up with some of the work but it's occurred to me that that's the point.   It's not easy to stay focused and committed to things that take great responsibility and aren't always fun but it's necessary and important. 
So, while my writing discipline still isn't to the level I would like it to be, I realize that I am working on the issue of discipline and focused commitment in the ongoing care of our animals and farm. 
Ok - it's late and I need to go to sleep but I wrote what I needed to. 
Maybe more will come tomorrow.  Or Friday - or sooner or later. 

Sediment in the System

Dave had to work on the tractor the other day and as he finished up, he got some sediment into another part of the tractor - not sure what it's called.   By his exclamation it was apparent that this was not a good thing.   That got me thinking.  We get sediment in our systems and don't run the way we were made to.  Physically our cholesterol gets to clogging our arteries, inflammation affects our functions and sometimes cell existence goes awry.  Mentally and emotionally we also get sediment in the system.  Negative energy, toxic relationships, obstacles which challenge us to our limits are all types of sediments that interfere with smooth sailing.  But we can't avoid it.  The good and the bad are all part of the picture. 
I've been very mindful of the emotional/mental sediment and how it's interfering with my best self.    Therapy and medication are tools I use to keep the system running smoothly but over the last year life has been running like an engine using the wrong fuel.  There are biological reasons for this and ''just because" reasons....It's made it tough to keep on keeping on around here.  I keep myself busy so that my thoughts don't overtake me but it's a crapshoot.  Sometimes the physical work works, sometimes not so much. 
And the thing is, it's affected my relationship with the farm...with the animals.  It's been hard having to take care of the animals.  These days - except for caring for my grandson, the only thing  - person - I want to be responsible for is me.... I've loved animals since I can remember but the drain of having to care for them has become an obstacle to overcome.  It's not fair to Dave who works so hard around here and has grown to love our fur babies.  I still love them but because of whatever it is that keeps me off kilter - I want to say good-bye to them and find them another good home. 
But having them keeps me going....keeps me getting up in the morning because I'm not going to let them suffer.  The dogs and cats as well....but they are such loves, how could I say good-bye, really?

Listening to Garrison Keillor - A Prairie Home Companion...I live in my own Lake Woebegone...if only it were that easy - just to say Woe- Be Gone and the black cloud would dissipate into little fluffs.  But it's just another day on the farm...the end of the day and the animals ar settled for the night and I am ready to surrender to sleep.  And then tomorrow I'll wake up again and take care of the animals and they will be alright.  And I'll be alright....the sediment will get shaken out evetually.  

The Farm - June 2014

It is 5:30 a.m.  Miracles do occur.  It's been 3 days straight that I have awakened at this early hour.  Previous medications had me sleeping until 9-10 a.m.  I'm not sure if this is a side effect of my most recent medication regime but I'm not complaining.  My morning chores are done - although there is always something to do here on the farm.  The animals are fed and watered and later I will attend to mucking out stalls and helping Dave with anything he needs. 
It also occurs to me that if I am able to keep this a regular wake up time, I may actually be able to post on a regular basis.  Write and post.  Write and post.  That has always been a part of the plan for my life but I have been so negligent.  But no self-flagellation.  Just do it.  However, even at this early hour the dogs are managing to be a distraction.  It's amazing the things that can come between a person and her intentions.  Of course it doesn't take much.  Although I say that I want to write, it's truly amazing how much I let distract me.  To quote Dorothy Parker, (I think), I'm more of the opinion that I like "having written."  The actual sitting down and writing takes an amazing amount of discipline.  It's too reminiscent of having to do homework and term papers during my school days.  It's funny though because once I get started, I enjoy crafting the paragraphs that tell a story as well as doing research if necessary.  For me, it's like discovering hidden treasures.  Having to write a sermon on a near weekly basis is pretty much the equivalent of writing a term paper.  Weekly.  That's a lot and I know that when I was younger, it would not have been voluntary thing. 
So - as to farm life, I enjoy the physicality of the work although let me not kid myself.  I do not overload myself when it comes to heavy duty requirements.  The thing is - it's not that I don't want to. I do but my stamina and energy and physical abilities stop lower on the ladder than that of others.  I just cannot exert anymore energy than that of oh, I don't know, a 54 year old grandmother.  But that's really not an accurate picture of grandmahood.  Many women my age as well as both younger and older have much more energy and physical strength to accomplish specific taskes.  And to prove it's not a matter of my age, it's been this way almost forever.  I was never the one to keep up with the crowd, whether running or bicycling.  I do help Dave with his endeavors but he knows not to push the envelope.  Once I feel I've exerted my maximum effort, I'm done.  It's over.  I have to go and replenish the energy stores for further tasks. 
This is the really funny or maybe ironic part of this whole farm thing.  It's been more my practice to do less work and here I am taking on what is basically and endless enterprise.  Never mind household ownership, farm reality dictates that there will always be something to work on.  And I volunteered for this.  Wanted it even.  Mom & Dad always indicated that farm life was hard work.  I would say I wish we lived on a farm and Mom would basically snort and say, "Never again." She had grown up on a farm and couldn't wait to leave.  She moved to the city in her late teen years and remained there until she and Dad decided that their family needed to be a suburban family so when I was four, we moved to Monmouth County, NJ.  After reading Charlotte's Webb and other animal related tales, that's when my desire to live the country life awakened.  But Mom & Dad did not mislead me.  For those who fancy the romantic notion of living on a farm -please let go of that fantasy if you ever find yourself with the opportunity to own/live on a farm.  It takes energy, effort and efficiency - if you are inclined to that level of self-discipline.  For those who are - things may be somewhat smoother. For those of us who are, shall we say, more flexible, it can be daunting to get everything accomplished that you want to.  And even that statement is somewhat misleading as there is no ending to the tasks that are part of farm life.  However, living on a farm provides endless fodder for storytelling and so that's the plan as I continue this blog.  Which up till now had only 20 entries.  Yikes, that's not going to get me anywhere.  Not if I'm serious about wanting to write....and since the advice is to write what you know, this is what I know.  Or am learning about. 
But -as my most recent FB posts shows...while life on the farm is work, it also provides a lot to write about.   Yesterday's upheaval with the chickens comes to mind:  After one of our chickens came running around to the front of the house - faster than Andy Pettite I ran to the back in time to see a fox picking up "dinner." I started screaming "fox, fox!!!" Our weekend/holiday kid J came running back around as well and threw the hot dog buns that he was holding, over the fence and then hauled himself over. The fox wisely decided to make a break for it. As we headed back to the grill J says to me in all seriousness, "I thought you were shouting the F word." I am still laughing.  And I am...still laughing.  what a hoot.  Although that word has escaped my lips before, it's not something I would be running around screaming...in my head  - maybe but not out loud.  In front of a kid or kids.  Anyway - this is the type of thing I want to record and share for those who may be interested but it's also a way to just do what I say I want to do and that's write.  Does anyone else have any ideas to keep me going? 

Enough of winter

It's winter.  There's snow.  A lot of snow.  But it's winter in the northeast and snow is traditionally  a part of the picture.  It's just that this winter there has been a lot more snow than we've seen in recent years.  Funnily enough it was a winter like this when Dave & I first met; February 1994.  We  both attended New Brunswick Theological Seminary in NJ but didn't know each other.  That February there came the deep snows that people remembered from our childhoods.  The kind that had snow mountains on every corner of every street.  The snow started coming down and kept coming so by the end of the day I knew I wouldn't make it home.  The wipers weren't clearing the windshield and although it was only a 16 mile drive home, I wasn't going to risk it.  I asked the RA of the dorms if I could stay in the extra room and he said ok.  It turned out to be an ok which led to a rather route changing event....I was about to meet the man of my dreams.  How corny but true.  We actually met in October when a mutual friend introduced us while doing Hebrew h.w. in the library.  Dave was rummaging through the books for his h.w. and noticed Kathy and myself talking and working.  He came over, said hi, I said hi and that was the extent of our communication.  But 4 months later we got to spend a couple of hours together playing a seriously competitive Trivial Pursuit marathon with other resident students.  Over the next several months we got to know each other as he finished up his final semester and I added a couple of credits to my files.  Twenty years later and we're living on a farm in sort of upstate NY (south of Albany - 150 miles north of NYC).  So, an "ok" led to my childhood dreams coming true; the man of my dreams on a farm in the country. Cold country however. 
It's been cold this winter.  Zero degree and below kind of cold.  The snow just keeps on falling.  Which is fine except not this year.  I don't know why but I've had enough.  After moving north in 1998 I took up xc skiing and came to enjoy the snowy days and nights which provided time for little mini-retreats from the everyday routine.  Maybe it's that we have to be out more often tromping around in the knee deep snow in order to feed the farm animals.  I've always wanted to live on a farm and now I do.  I enjoy it.  But I confess that having to carry water from house to barnyard in 20 and 10 degree weather is not fun.  I don't know how people manage to work in the cold for days and weeks as a time.  The animals manage. We keep them sheltered and fed.  But it does wear thin after several weeks of it.  So yes, I have been whining.  At some level I have adjusted.  I noted recently on my FB page that I was running back and forth to the gym in shorts.  In sub-32 degree weather.  Which I would never have done in my younger years.  So yes, getting older doesn't mean things can't change.  Other things that change don't always feel good.  Like memory loss.  It's not like I haven't forgotten things before but that was mainly due to distraction or not really being interested in what I needed to be interested in.  But now I'm forgetting things that I really am invested in - although I second-guess myself by saying that if I was really committed to them I wouldn't forget.  But I'm really forgetting.
Like meeting times and appointments.  I have to write big notes and leave them around so I can be reminded of where I need to be.  And even then it's not always enough.  I have meeting reminders what's the word - oh yes forget them too - programmed into my smart phone but the phone isn't smart enough to make sure I pay attention and tonight I missed a meeting I wanted to attend and am really mortified and pissed.  I cannot believe I missed it.  I had everything all planned out as far as chores and dinner and getting out the door on time.  And I did all that.  Except I was an hour behind time. 
Where oh where is Erma Bombeck when we need her?  When I need her.  She went through the experience of being oh so human while also being able to turn it into fodder for her column which provided her with an outlet and an income.  Wouldn't mind being able to do that for myself.  That's part of why I joined Toastmaster International. I wanted to be able to hone my speaking and leadership skills and maybe find an outlet for my love of speaking and also being able to uplift others.  Laugh at self, encourage others, earn a living.  Living on the farm provides it's own material which if I could pull it all together would find me where I'm meant to be.  But no more whining. At least not for tonight.  It's time to check things out - make sure the animals are settled for the night and then plan my day for tomorrow.  It will be interesting to see if I can fulfill the goals for the day.  But if nothing else...the cow, the pigs, the horses and chickens, dogs and cats will all be fed and sheltered and in that the day will be well spent.  Dreams really do come true. 

Rooster Haven - progress?

Good Evening Self -
Why is it that I can have a great thought in my head and not get it down when I actually go to sit and write?  I have great topic right around me, the animals and the farm and yet here it is again,  a year later and I have not given my writing it's due.  Oh well.  The farm is still here, the animals being their animal selves and I had a couple of great stories but let it go....
Oh for pete's sake.  I'm done for tonight.  Next time I have a thought - I have to actually WRITE. 
Thanksgiving though for my crazy dogs, cats and animal friends.  Oh dribble.  What on earth.  Let's start again tomorrow.

Catching Up

     It's amazing how many pieces or blog posts I've written over the last year or so...truly amazing I tell you but you have no cause to believe me.  Why should you?  I haven't posted a darn thing in all that time.  I write really great stuff.  Too bad it stays in my head.  Today I've had about 3 hours of free time in which I could have done any number of things, writing included but I spent about 2 of those hours procratinating or finding elswhere to focus.  The expereince is very similar to the typical Saturday night antics I engage in while working on Sunday's sermon.  It's remarkable how all of a sudden all kinds of things need to get done "right now" instead of doing any actual writing.  I know this is not uncommon but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with.  I really wonder what the hold up is, the obstacle that prevents me from doing what I say it is I want to do - which is write. 

Oh well..it's not that there's a lack of things to write about.  The animals provide many opportunities for me to create the written picture of life here on the farm but once I get in the house, the inspiration drains away and I end up doing anything else but writing.  I did read somewhere that anyone can write when inspired...the trick is to writing even when there's no inspiration around.  This is work  no question about it but so maybe that' my issue.  It's work and although I enjoy "having written" as I think Dorothy Parker said, writing is something else. 

Red letter day here on the farm. The old septic system is gone and a new tank was just installed.  This is very good news.  According the the man who did the work it looked like it hadn't been pumped out or replaced since the 1960's.  I have no doubt about that...heaven knows the stench made the case for it having been quite a while.  Mama Jo is very happy.  Work seems to be progressing around here.  It goes by fits and starts.  I have a fit and Dave starts working is the basic formula.  It's not that he sits around twiddling his thumbs.  Serving 2 congregations keeps him pretty busy and he was definitely sidetracked whe he got hit with the flu bug or whatever that horrible experience was.  I got sick for 5 days - very very sick but then got over it.  Dave got sick and after a month - 5 weeks, it seems as if the bug has given up and gone elsewhere...or just succumbed to its own life and death cycle.  That was a lot of time that he could have been doing things.  But we're not going to revisit that.  He has started work on the upstairs bathroom and it will be completed this year.  Three and half years after pulling out the tub, toilet and sink.  But other things had to be taken care of ....mainly the foster kids.  They kept us going in a whole 'nother universe but after 3 years of kids in and out of the hosue - we're back to just us two and our son who helps out around here.  Once or twice a month, one of our "kids" comes to hang out and have some one on one attention in order to have some space which is working out well.  Having been a full-time foster parent was something I'd always wanted to do and Dave eventually agreed but I came to realize that there are reasons for the seasons of life and right now the only kid I really want to spend time with is our new grandson - who is all of 3 months old.  There is nothing like being a grandparent and I don't even get to spend that much time with him....since he and his parents are 3 hours away but it doesn't matter.  I've entered into a new community - one which is just thrilling. 

As I think about any number of things this thought keeps recurring...I wish Erma Bombeck was still with us.  She was so able to bring humor to life's not always humourous moments as she shared with her readers.  I started reading her columns when I was very young - probably a teen.  She could mae me laugh out loud even though I really had no common ground with her at that time.  While she wrote about being a parent and facing the fact of aging - I was still in the "life will last forever" phase of my life yet that's how good she was.  She told funny stories and whether or not one could identify with the details, we could all identify with the humor.   I miss Erma.  I need her funny reflections on what going through menopause is like and what's it's like to be closer to the end of one's life than the beginning.  Her life was cut short no question.  She had to face that earlier in the cycle rather than later.  She did that well too - finding ways to share what living with cancer was like - for her...including finding the humor in a very dark place.  I miss her...

Persistence or Plain Foolishness

The hen is back on the nest.  Now this isn't news... hens are generally expected to sit on their nests, doing their duty to nurture and protect the prospetive chickies through gestation.  But this wanna be momma has lost all sense of limitations re: her responsibilities.  I wrote about her the other day - how she's been nesting since before Thanksgiving.  I took her off the nest that day and put her in w/the others - in her own little nesting box.  However, over the course of the last few days, the chicks in that living space have been able to come and go as I did not keep the coop locked.  Well, guess where she is?  Yep - back on the nest where I didn't get rid of the eggs.  She has been sitting for about 3 consecutive days and continues to sit and wait, through the bitter cold and today's snow.  I don't know what to do - or if I should do anything.  She is spending her life waiting for something that will never happen and who am I to determine she should do otherwise?  But, but, she's a chicken.  She doesn't know those eggs will never hatch.  I know they won't but she doeesn't.  Is there any level of chicken awareness that will reveal that piece of information to her so that she can continue to go on with the business of living?  Which isn't much more than eating, pecking, scratching and sleeping.  Not quite the full itinerary that us humans have.  Our days can be as full or empty of activity as we like - theoretically speaking.  Some of us have full schedules that have more to do with the simple desire to live and meet basic needs while others have the freedom to decide how full or empty they want their days to be. 

And The Vinny - (her name - sort of) is free from all the angst and expectation that we have upon awaking each morning.  There is no thinking - no considering the fact that her due date came and went weeks ago.  She doesn't care or more likely - she doesn't process that reality..she just sits and waits; sits and waits.  And I can only assume that she is fine with it.  I really shouldn't let her just sit there...it's cold, bitterly cold and there is nothing that is going to come out of this...other than a frostbitten comb.  Yet I also wish I had her persistence and determination...if I did maybe at least one of my collection of ideas would come to fruition.  One book, play, collection of poems, children's story, something would be finished.  Or I would have found a way to pursue earning a living that would provide more income so that we could finish the many un-done projects around here - house or farm.  Something would be done.  But it's all a work in progress.  Dave feels that it being a work in progress is progress.  I understand that there are things which have been accomplished but I want the Big Project to be closer to done.  You know, the upstairs bathroom which has been waiting for 3 years...or the downstair bathroom which needs to be moved...or the other side of the house which could conceivably be an apartment - thereby serving 2 purposes; that of providing someone w/a home and providing us w/income.  The stalls would be done, the chicken coops completed, other avenues of income would be open to us...but then we're back to the beginning of the circle.  Dave finds his satisfaction in the working on the projects.  I don't mind and even enjoy it but want to see some completion.  And then I go out and see The Vinny.  And she just is....

Still is....I think I need some of that.

Ok -writing again

Why is it that I create so well in my head, walking around the farm and then when it's time to write, I can't remember anything at all that I intended to write about.  Yes, I know, I should be carrying a note pad and pen with me so that I can jot down reminder notes.  But I don't. So, I'm left with remembering and that doesn't work so well these days.  Oh well.  It's Yom Kippur today...the day of atonement.  I am clear I have much to atone for...

Ahh - the memory has returned.  The other theme of yesterday...family.  Although it is actually much larger than that.  I was asked a few days ago why I do what I do?  Why am I so driven to do the things I do - the things that I think matter.   I seem driven and why is it that the 2 or three important things that I do don't seem to be enough?  Well, I've been asked that many times before...I've been asked if I think I'm not good enough or if I have to do more for God to love me...  I've thought about that on many occasions...over time, through the years.  I've never really been able fully understand what or why I do - only that when an opportunity to give, to serve, to be there for others is set before me, then I respond. Yes, I know, I don't need to save the world.  Trust me - I've gotten over that.  But if there is something I can do in my  little corner of it, then I want to do it.  Why?  Because I believe that we are called to "bear one another's burdens", to "do justice, love mercy, & walk humbly with God", and to "proclaim the year of the Lord's favor...."   No, I am not called to save the world, but when God puts a call upon my heart then aren't I to answer it.  Lofty isn't it? I don't mean to be.  All I can say is that it is cellular - this need to respond when a need is expressed.  I have pared down, I do say no, I don't expect that I am the answer to all the questions but yes to some.

And then there is the real essence of why I do what I do - why I am who I am.  It came to me today - not in an epiphany moment - no, that would be too easy...but as the culmination of years and years of trying to answer the question that was put to me again earlier this week - what drives me?  Why do I do what I do, be who I be?  Because - after years of not wanting to be like my mom and dad - and then years of respecting them, I find I do indeed want to be like them. Not a carbon copy -that's never going to happen but to live out the values that they embodied and lived.  Those values which echo or reflect the values I espouse and have sought to live out through my life.  And why are they my values?  Not from going to Sunday school or church so much although I did hear of them and was taught them on a spiritual level but because Mom & Dad lived this way...because of who they were created to be. They weren't "believers"...they just lived out hospitality as is taught was the way of our spiritual ancestors,  They lived a life that sometimes looked more Christian than those who spend their lives professing their faith.

I want to be like Mom & Dad...in that I have sought to re-create family - re-create hospitality to the stranger - (perhaps entertaining angels, unaware.)  I came from a created family - adopted at birth, but loved no differently than a child born to her parents.  I lived with these people who opened their hearts and their home to the people who needed to be welcomed or to find respite from the upheavals of life.  I didn't always appreciate the effort they made to make the world a little less of a harsh place - especially when it seemed to interfere with my personal wants and desires. Ultimately whether by osmosis, patterning, or whatever element it was, I did come to own the essence that when there is a need, I can be someone who responds to meet it.  Not for self-aggrandizement although have also wondered whether there is anything as pure altruism,  as it does feel good to be there for others.  It does...can't ignore or deny that reality.  But when I was asked, again, I wanted to discover the answer and I think I have.

What if I was to write today?  Just write and write and write...oh wait - should that have read, "what if I were to write today?  Here we go - one sentence in and the editor is already working.  But whatever.  I know that writers write...and if I want to be a writer I need to write.  I have time during my days to do this - yet I don't.  Still working on uncovering the obstacle.  Sometimes I think if I could just go away for a week...actually I probably can.  That would be my test.  I will either write or I won't.  Lord knows I have had some really good ideas to write about.  But don't.  But The Daily E-Mo - Geranium Farm, or Anne Lamott, that's my genre.  I could do this...but I don't.  Well, not consistently.  Sporadically speaking here I am again...writing about not writing.  SMH.  This is absurd.  And yesterday I had 2 really good themes to work w/but a day later, not having written them down, I once again am writing about not writing.
Well, there was the chicken - who I know should have some kind of profound lesson for me, thus the world, that I could use...the fact that one little chicken has been sitting on a clutch since before Thanksgiving...with one or two forays from the nest.  It has to be more however or I don't think the poor girl would be alive.  But 2 days ago, after observing for so many days straight that she was still on that nest, I picked her up and put her in the coop with the others.  I mean, her clutch was in the wagon seat, in the barn, no protection from the icy cold of this month and it just didn't seem right to let her stay there any longer, even though seeing her there every morning was something I contemplated in the hopes it would inspire some insightful meaningful work on my part.  Finally it just got to be too much.  I mean her persistence is indeed admirable...but after so long with NO possible hope that the eggs would hatch?  It just got sad.  So, is there a lesson in there about knowing when to keep pursuing something and knowing when to stop, to let go, to move on?  I don't know - you tell me.

January - ruminations

"And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game."

Hard to imagine this song is as timely today as when Joni Mitchell first wrote it. A timeless song about the seasons, the circle of life.  On this day my thoughts entailed nothing noteworthy...only continued reflections on our life here on the farm.  Zeus - a REALLY big horse was too skittish the other day for Dave to put his blanket on but we finally got around to doing it today as it is supposed to get REALLY cold tonight.  It took a joint effort on both Dave's and my part but I am pretty sure it was the apple pieces that really enthralled him.  And the girls.  As soon as they discovered that apples were in the picture, they came trotting over to see what was up.  They knew something was as they flanked him in an effort to protect him from the "big bad people."  He didn't seem to mind too much as long as he could see the apples in his sight.  It was really funny.  He remained the gentle giant that he is throughout the procedure, focusing solely on my hands which held the bowl w/the apple pieces.  Can I be as focused?  I know when I am really interested in pursuing something, I will have that laser like concentration but it's just as true that I can easily find other things to be as enthralled with.  It's not like the ADD kind of distraction...more like realizing early on I've gone as far as I can with something.
Hopefully the dedication to writing, praying and farming will continue to be fleshed out in this new year...I mean  none of us can go back and redo the past but going to hold onto the ponies as they go up and down a little longer.

Just like the dedicated little Vinnie.  There are two Vinnies left out of the original 5 - part banty/part whatever.  One of them laid 3 eggs before Thanksgiving - in the seat of one of our carts. Fortunately it's in the barn and somewhat protected from the elements. I say fortunately because she has been sitting there since mid-November trying to hatch these eggs.  It's not happening.  Other hens have pecked at her trying to get her to move since they want to lay their eggs where she is....she isn't going for it.  She did get up once to do something - I saw her running around but she went right back to setting and there seems to be no sign of her moving.  I checked the eggs out in that brief moment that she was running around and yeah - there's nothing to hatch.  But she's hanging in there.  I wonder what keeps her going.  Instinct?  A glitch?  Not sure but hope her little heart doesn't break.

Well, the day is almost over.  The sun has set...the circle continues, the cycle, the wheels go round and round.
Tomorrow the routine begins again...meetings, the gym, the chores, engaging in the day to day events...no wise words, no epiphany (that's Sunday, lol), just more of the same...the good same.

WT....???

Good afternoon Me...or you...or whomever comes across this. 
You'll excuse I hope the sort of crass title of today's post.  It's mainly the thought I had earlier about the fact I had dribbled the day away - unable to take advantage of a HUGE chunk of uncommitted time to sit and write.  I guess it's true. I am not a writer.  I am not passionate about or committed to it.  I am unable or unwilling to sit and do what is necessary in the pursuit of this (so-called) gift I have.  By fluke or happenstance - actually, I think those are synonyms but I don't want to take the time out to check because if I go to a dictionary site I'll have allowed myself once again to be distracted from my self-appointed task - that of writing - I had ALL day to write, read, relax basically because a) I drove the college kid to her classes today and was not going to drive home and back again to put 140 miles on the 2 week old/new/old car, and I had to take said car to the dealership for some service thanks to the "check engine light" which was off when I picked up the car but showed up again a few days later and I got to sit in their rockin' lounge from 8:30 a.m. until 12:30 p.m.  and I had all that time to write.  Uh - oh - that is a seriously long run-on sentence but if I stopped to edit, I'd never get it written and then I'd get frustrated or distracted and there would go the attempt again. 

No, this isn't a rumination with direct bearing on or because of the farm...it's more like an ongoing thread that runs consistently through my life but does not seem to be turning into anything more than these periodic bursts of written blathering.  Which I am good at.  I should have looked into a radio or talk show gig early on.  Heaven knows if I can do anything it's talk.  I have been quiet for short periods of time throughout my life - shoot, I was even SHY back in the day when I would have preferred to DIE rather than speak in front of anyone, never mind strangers but now I do it on a regular basis.  Today I even asked a stranger if she would be willing to share a cupcake with me.  I was (still am) in Barnes & Noble at the Colonie Mall where I finally ended up after my morning at the service garage and I wanted that little extra sweet treat which as an adult I am now free to get whenever I want just because I want to and so I did, with the straight coffee, small of course to compensate for the extra indulgence and so after taking a little bite, I realized it was too sweet for me to finish on my own and I wasn't going to bring it home with me so I asked this young woman if she'd like to have half of it.  I knew she was interested because when she saw me with the cupcake, she asked what it was and I told her it was the pumpkin cupcake. She then looked at the dessert case and  decided she'd pass.  However, I knew that she would be willing to share because what probably held her back was her own inner voice saying, "no, don't need it, don't spend the money, don't indulge, you don't have enough" or some variation on that theme.  To be clear, I'm not advocating all out indulgence of the epcurion bent or the ignoring of Inner Wisdom, but just suggesting that perhaps she held back on the cupcake because it was too much but 1/2 would have been just right so I figured we'd both benefit and indeed, she was surprised but willing to share and so now 2 instead of 1 indulged a little bit but not overly so and can savor the pleasure of the unexpected.  And the yummy.  I like to share food although it seems others in my life circle would prefer not to.  It's not that either of us are fanantical about our positions; sometimes they share very willingly and I would prefer to keep my treat all to myself but overall, I'm the one who thinks it's a great way to cut calories and stretch the culinary experience.  It's also a reminder of dinner with my parents at Chinese restaurants back when I was a kid and we'd always share because that's just what you did and it seems ok to extend the practice to other cuisines and family/group meals.  Some people totally get this and others don't.  Like my hubby.  First date, I did ask if I could try a bit of his meal but even as the words reached his ears I was reaching my fork over the table and plunging it into whatever morsel had attracted my attention.  Apparently, it was a mark of gallentry on Dave's part that he didn't spear my hand immobile.  Apparently - anyone in his family growing up who committed an act like that would have been engaged in an act of overt hostility.  There was JUST enough to go around for everyone at the table, and almost never enough left over for seconds. You took your share and ate it.  And didn't waste.  I get it...I totally do - but it just didn't occur to me that someone I knew would have been in that position or would still be carrying the repercussions so far into the future.  Not that I was ignorant of scarcity in our world....but hadn't really experienced the intensity of another's formative experience as related to food.  Not that we didn't go through our own waxing and waning of economic stability in my own home.  I just never realized it.  I eventually remembered stories of eating spaghetti for days, or hot dogs as Mom & Dad economized when we first moved into our home in Matawan NJ.  I tended to remember the halcyon (hahah - I just wanted to use that word) days of stead a couple of times a week, (which haha, I didn't really appreciate especially since they'd make us eat EVERYTHING including the fat and gristle which made me want to puke).  I also remembered the days when no matter how many extra mouths were around for dinner, they were always invited to remain.  Dad (who did the cooking - thereby assuring our safety and continued living) would have preferred to have advance notice and ALWAYS let us know how annoyed he was when he didn't get it - still was the utmost gracious host in terms of assuring whomever it was that they were welcome to stay for dinner.  The story of the fishes and loaves almost always was re-enacted in our home.  Not that they would have acknowledged a relationship to that story or its origins but that didn't matter in the long run.  There was pretty much always enough. Since I don't want to succumb to the tendency of whitewashing the memories that nostalgia can distort I'm trying to think of a time when they said "no" to someone staying and I'm sure they did but what rooted itself in my being -as part of my formative years was that element of everyone was welcome at the table. I don't need to state the obvious - but I always manage to - it seems to me that this is what currently reveals itself in my own tendencies to insist that everyone is indeed welcome at The Table.