Music makes my heart happy...

Have you ever been listening to a song- a familiar song- and out of nowhere a line in it just smacks you in, well, the ears, and you’re thinking Why have I never heard that before? or Absolutely! I completely understand what they’re saying. I’ve been there several times. Too many to count, actually. It’s like that one lyric sums up everything you’ve been going through… puts it to words for you in one neat little package.

A couple years ago I was really struggling with something. I was listening to my iPod and heard this… “I need your grace to remind me to find my own.” And I melted into a puddle on the kitchen floor. The song was very familiar to me… I’d heard it hundreds of times but never listened too much past the chorus. My husband had been handling the issue I was struggling with so much better than I had, and his example led me to do the same and get past the problem as well. In essence, I found my own grace and began to extend it, and the problem dissipated. Song:Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

Most of the time I feel pretty confident in my skills, my knowledge, my ability to be objective, but some days I just feel worthless. I feel like I have nothing to offer. I feel like a jack-of-all-trades but master of nothing. I feel like no one needs me. I don’t have many days like this, but I do have one occasionally. Then I’m listening to my iPod and I hear “Sometimes I believe that I can do anything. Yet, other times I think I’ve got nothing good to bring.” Exactly! That’s exactly how I feel. In my head, I know better. I do. But some days it’s just too much to believe. Song: Free to be Me by Francesca Battistelli. 

I love music- all kinds. Music is like “a symphony, all around me, running through me.” (Switchfoot’s Your Love is a Song) I love the mystery of it, the simplicity of it, the complexity of it. I love it when it‘s silly and when it’s serious… when it’s subtle and when it’s in your face. Most of all I love the music that reflects a little piece of who I am or where I’ve come from or where I’m going. Just yesterday I was laughing about David Frizzell’s I’m Gonna Hire a Wino to Decorate our Home… one of the latest additions to my iPod. It’s where I come from… I remember listening to this in the bars in my small, one-horse hometown with my grandparents and great grandparents in the afternoons when I was a child. [In Minnesota, of course, out of the Bible belt, where children were actually allowed in bars] To me, these were good times. Carefree. It makes me smile... …even if I did think they were going to hire a rhino.

Two worlds collide...

While out and about today doing chores I literally saw two of my worlds collide.  Rodney went to the oilfield today and asked me if I would go to the wheat fields and check the cattle and make sure the water tanks are full and functioning properly. 

We are in the middle of a work transition that will affect our lives dramatically.  So many things are going to be different.  As of the January 2011, Rodney is employed by DRC Oilfield Services as a foreman.  We signed a contract with the auctioneer yesterday for our farm sale happening next month.  Rodney has spent a good bit of time working at gathering up all his farm stuff- feeders, bunks, implements, tractors, mowers, etc. and rowing it up here at the house for the sale.  We live on ten acres here in town, so we will have the sale here at the house & barn instead of in the country on our land that we're selling.  He hired a high school boy to shine up his iron and clean out the cabs.  I told Rod that it looks like a wax commercial from the late 80s where they go into the junkyard and polish up different old cars and make them shine like new.  The auctioneer was very impressed when he came out to shoot pictures of our stuff for advertising.  That was exciting.  After the sale and at the conclusion of harvest, he will officially go full time with DRC.

But today when I was out and about, it was very depressing.  We need rain desperately.  The wheat is burning more and more with each passing hot, windy day.  Sure, from the road it looks beautiful, but when you walk out in it or get above it, it's turning blue.  The dark spots are stressing due to lack of moisture.  This will be our last harvest and we'd really rather go out with a bang instead of a bust.  We don't have another year to "make it up".  Oh, Lord Jesus, please send rain... and do it quickly.

At my first stop, I found some cattle who were munching on our hay pile.  We used to have it fenced off, but they mangled the fence so we just picked up the fence and let them have it.  They looked pretty guilty... they even fled when I pulled in.  Busted.


The dark line in the middle of the picture is where the burning starts.  This is east of Custer City.



At my second stop, I said hello to a couple old friends, Roanie and Bay Boy... the horses were grazing with the herd and I stopped for a chat.  I did all the talking.

This is east of Thomas on a neighbor.  The dark running through the middle like a river is burning wheat.



Checking on my last herd is where the collision was... north of town, less than a mile from where all the wild fires were burning this week, and it's changing daily.  Formerly a one-horse road that was barely passable even in the jeep wrangler (and not passable all the way through), now it has 2 oil rigs on it and a third going up as I write this.  The roads are new and wide and extremely rough from all the heavy traffic.  Oh, the traffic!  There are men and pickups everywhere.  Trailer houses and  pipe stacked all around. Semis coming and going.  Workers constructing and destructing.  It's virtually a little community out there... and our curious cattle are taking it all in.  Even the 11 waywards visiting the neighbors came up to the gate wanting to come home and see what all the commotion is about.  While out there doing my job today, I was thinking that this is literally my two worlds colliding.  As we're stepping out of the farming and into the oilfield, the oilfield is covering up our "space" for lack of a better word.  It's ironic that it's here in our "backyard" yet, Rodney drove his crew to Billings today... nothing short of a 2 hour drive to work in the oilfield.  I think I'll stick with the wheat field, and when that's gone, I guess I'll have to find another way to help my husband.  I'm sure he has a few ideas.

Equipment rowed up on us as they build a new rig pad just over the hill.  Another rig on the neighbor peeking over the tree.



The first rig on us.  You can't see all the trailers, pickup and workers at the base of it.  It's hidden behind the hill.  Side Note:  we don't own the land where the rigs are... we rent it.  I only wish it was lining our pockets.  Oh the ministry that money could fund!


 

The grass isn't always greener on the other side, huh girls??

My ultimate destination... and all is well. 



A hazard to long distance venting...

No, I’m not talking central heat and air systems 101 today… as if I’m not already boring enough for most… lol.  But I want to point out a situation that I’ve personally seen and that I’ve seen in problem situations others have described to me.

We get irritated, but we keep our cool and hold our breath until it boils over and we have to let it out.  Sometimes we purposely make a call to a confidant and vent our frustrations while other times we tend to spew on the first person we come across who will lend us an ear. Venting is healthy and necessary, but remember that venting is letting out negative energy.  It helps us to process information and emotion verbally, and it allows us to analyze ourselves and our reactions while we talk out loud to someone outside the situation.

So, what’s the hazard then in venting?  It really depends on who we choose to vent to and how are they related to the situation- if at all.  Let me set this up for you.  Let's say a husband and wife are having a reoccurring issue come between them and they can’t seem to find a solution.  Let’s say it’s the wife spending too frivolously.  They argue about it a lot lately without much resolve.  The husband’s parents live 100 miles away, so they don’t have first-hand knowledge or witness too much of the couple’s marriage business.  The husband vents to his mother about the situation when she happens to call one day after he just had a tiff with  his wife about her spending.  And then he does this on several other occasions since then per happenstance... (he doesn't set out to call mom and complain, but in conversations it comes up).  Okay, where’s the danger in confiding in your parent about a problem you’re having with your spouse?  It could be here:   Mom is now seeing a different side to her daughter-in-law.  She’s forming opinions about her and making assumptions based solely on what she’s been told.  She doesn’t speak to her son often about his wife’s spending problem and honestly it may never come up again.  Mom is now watching and questioning every purchase her daughter-in-law makes (or that she hears about from 100 miles away) and mom assumes it’s spontaneous and frivolous.  In the meantime, the couple goes through a budgeting and financial class and gets a household budget in place.  Both follow it to a tee.  No more fights… complete financial/marital harmony.  Great solution!  But… no one tells the husband’s mom.  In mom’s mind the financial picture never changes.  There’s still money stress and strife, and mom unavoidably sees her daughter-in-law in a different way… through the lens or stereotype as a frivolous spender.  Only years later does mom find out that her daughter-in-law is actually quite good at managing her budget and shopping for her family’s needs... (by that time mom's opinion of her is a habit and will be very difficult to change regardless of the new information… the truth).  How we perceive someone inevitably plays a role in how we treat them or speak of them to others.  Seemingly harmless venting can be a hazard.  In this situation it’s hard for the mother-in-law to see his son’s wife in a positive light.  The true detriment is the strain it puts on the in-law relationship.

So, judgment and misperception are the hazards to venting.   Honestly, how many times to we go back when a situation finds a solution and inform the person we vented to of the change?  So many times, we’re so thankful for the relief from the stress it was creating, we want to be done with it while forgetting who we talked to about it.  And never do we think through the effects of our venting on the person we vented to. Think about it.  It makes sense.  Substitute any of the three people in this example… could be a parent venting to a grown child about another relative… a child venting to a grandparent about his parent… a child venting to a parent about a teacher or another child (a friend)… a parent venting to some third party about a person in her child’s life and her child overhearing it…  The possibilities are endless and the misunderstanding, misrepresenting, and misjudging are virtually unavoidable, and relationships are strained.  

Food for thought.

I am a product of the public school system...

And sadly, I am reminded of this over and over. 

One of the hardest parts of being a part of our small Christian school is that I was raised in the public school.  This is especially true when it comes to sports.  I come from a small community with a very strong winning tradition in our sports teams in the public school.  Win.  That's what we do... in a Friday-Night-Lights sort of way.  Win, win, win... at all costs. 

We left the public school system for a myriad of reasons but two near the top of the list were respect issues and the almighty holy grail of athletics.  Both of these issues are non-issues in our Christian school.  Praise the Lord.  But, I am still a product of the public school.  I can say it [winning sports matches doesn't matter] with my head and even believe it in my heart until the clock is ticking and it's game time.  The Lord has broken me in the area of sports.  My daughter, Regan's junior high volleyball and basketball teams over two years combined, might have won two or three games... and lost around 40.  Bad, lose.  Blowout, lose.  Our high school, on the other hand, is very athletic, has much success and can play with the best of them... boys and girls.  I keep thinking there's hope.  But that's where I'm still holding out for a sliver of pride, and probably not completely humbled.  The Lord keeps telling me, "It doesn't matter.  Really."

Last night was the season end for Regan's team until next fall.  I was ready for it to be over.  It really is painful to watch.  I see so much that could be done differently, better.... but at what cost?  Do I want my children to have the same handicap that my husband and I have... the win at all costs training?  Win, win, win. [ I must say, I think my husband had it as bad or worse than I did; his high school coach played NBA.]  No.  I don't want that, and I am so pleased with Regan's coach; he is a good man, a humble man.  As Christians we don't play the political games, we don't manipulate situations or bend rules to make our team have the advantage... our coach doesn't schmooze with the officials.  We play upright and take what we draw.  We don't throw huge amounts of money into our athletic department, and we don't pay our coach an outrageous sum of money.  That's how we want it.  That's why we left the public school system.  Oh, Lord, but why can't we win, too?  Keep chiseling, Lord.  You're almost there. 

Last night another hunk of chiseled off junk hit the floor.    You see, two of my daughters played basketball last night... from two different schools, one public, one private, in two different towns about 60 miles apart, at nearly the same time.  I sent Rosalind on the bus with the team and drove to Regan's last game.  Not long after we arrived home from Regan's game, the projected time of arrival for Rosalind's team was near, so I went to the school to wait on her.  After 30 minutes, she calls me (upset) and tells me that I have to be there to pick her up right when they arrive or she doesn't get to play in tomorrow's game.  What??  I reassured her that I would be there to get her, in fact, that I was already there waiting.  She said they'd be about 30 more minutes, so I decided to just wait... boiling.  Furious.  When she arrived and got in the truck, she went on to tell me that there were 13 kids on the bus... three had cell phones.  Right when he stepped on the bus, her coach told the players that their rides were to be there waiting for them or they wouldn't get to play tomorrow night because he didn't want to have to "do this" two nights in a row.   He didn't offer his phone.  He just threatened them.  Rosalind asked to borrow a phone from one of the three, and then called me.  Funny, he didn't seem to mention to them that he was an hour late from the estimated time of arrival that was printed on the note that he sent home.  I didn't get a call telling me they were running an hour behind schedule.... oh, yeah, silly me, my time doesn't matter.  I wanted to jerk him and his arrogant, disrespectful self up and give him a tongue lashing.  Two years and three months more of this disrespect.  This arrogance.  This manipulation of our children.  I honestly don't think we're going to make it through the end of my third daughter, Rayne's grade school years in the public school system.  There is just too much wrong.  Thank you, Lord, for another example.  I don't want to win.  I don't.  I am completely humbled.

Don't love the world's ways. Don't love the world's goods. Love of the world squeezes out love for the Father. Practically everything that goes on in the world—wanting your own way, wanting everything for yourself, wanting to appear important—has nothing to do with the Father. It just isolates you from him. The world and all its wanting, wanting, wanting is on the way out—but whoever does what God wants is set for eternity.  1 John 2 in The Message.

In honor of my grandmother...

This week my brother and I traveled to Iowa for my grandmother's funeral.  I had the honor of writing both her obituary and eulogy for the memorial service and the newspapers.  My aunts, uncle, parents, & brother were sitting around planning on Monday evening and talking about the service and assigning jobs to be completed.  We began questioning who should read the eulogy.  The preacher was suggested, but I shot that down immediately.  Someone said Rodney, but that was impossible- he was at home in Oklahoma with the rest of my family.  Dad asked me where the eulogy was... he wanted to see it.  I pointed to my head and said, "I haven't started yet."  After a bit Dad said he thought he could do it.  After giving that some serious thought, I decided that yes, he should do it.  Wayne took me home (to our hotel); Wayne went to bed and I began writing.  It came easily and right from Dad's mouth.  It was probably the easiest piece of writing I've ever written.  The day of the funeral he was nervous, but he wanted so badly to do it.  But minutes before the service began, he conceded.  I told him, "I'll do it for you, Dad..." .... because you can't, is what I didn't say.

I stood in front of my family and my grandmother's friends and read....

Mom was many, many things in her life to many different people.

Mom was a student. Being raised in Des Moines’ east side, when she married Dad, she was very much a city girl. She knew nothing about farm life and living in the country. Dad taught her everything. She’d never driven a car, let alone a truck or a tractor. She learned how to milk a cow and raise chickens. She sold eggs and tended a huge vegetable garden. With the disadvantage of losing her own mother at such a young age, Grandma Rose, Dad’s mom, taught her so many of the domestic chores of her day, and in essence became a “mother” to mom.


And mom was very resourceful. Every year we’d get 100 day old chicks to raise. Dad tried to teach her how to butcher the chickens, but his way just wasn’t working for her. He set up a log to use as a butcher block with a hatchet, but she had a tough time swinging the hatchet and getting the neck cut in one clean swing. He even set two nails into the log as guides to hold the chicken’s neck. It still wasn’t working. Mom decided to try it her way… she’d leave them on the ground, step on their heads and pull their bodies off their heads. Then she’d put them down and they’d flop around headless until they bled out. Twenty at a time, they’d do… mom and Barb. Barb would skin them and mom would gut them. We had baked chicken every Sunday. She was an excellent cook. At times she’d host Thanksgiving dinner for her family of 23 when we kids were young. She was a gracious hostess and my cousins loved coming to the farm and visiting Aunt Valda. They’d spend their whole vacation at the farm playing in the hog lots and corn cribs, driving the tractors, petting the chickens and enjoying mom’s cooking. All of them have fond memories of Aunt Valda and the farm.


Mom was a supporter. She worked hard on the farm and at being a mother. Monday was laundry and bread-baking day. She always had snacks ready for us when we got off the bus, but the cinnamon rolls were always the best. When we kids got a little older, she took a job cooking at Nickerson’s to help support the family. She always did what had to be done and she always found the strength to do it. People liked to talk to mom and seek her advice. She always told it like it was. And she was a good listener. In conversations with her, she was always fully engaged. She had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world. You could feel that she was genuinely interested in you and whatever you were sharing with her. For this reason, she made friends easily and created close bonds with her caregivers. They have expressed how much they loved her. She was very supportive of her family and showed it in many ways. When Barb hosted an open house for her first photography studio in Rogers, mom was there to support her. And when no one showed, she was there to cry with her in the hallway. Recently when Barb hosted her open house for the retreat center, mom was there with her making coffee, serving cookies, visiting with guests and making new friends. Mom always had a good word about her family… so proud of the way we turned out, but very humble in taking any credit for it.


Mom was a fighter. The list is long: She lost her mom at 13 years old. She outlived 2 husbands and has spent the last 40 some years living alone. She was a valiant fighter with her first diagnosis of cancer. Her treatment was so intense, someone half her age would have struggled. She beat it and was in remission for 4 years before it returned in a different area. Mom had a temper. Sometimes Dad liked to provoke her. One time while working on a pie, she got so mad at him that she wadded up some of the dough and threw it at him. It landed behind the hutch. It was still there, hard as a rock the day we moved. They never raised their voices at each other in anger. Well, not that we saw… not too sure how well Dad fared when her brand new frig slid off the back of the truck on his way home from the store, but besides that... She was a stubborn woman… sometimes to a fault… and sometimes to her benefit. Her biggest disappointment was losing Dad so early… too early. Every year since 1969, save one, she made the Memorial Day trip to the cemetery in Dexter, Minnesota. And every year Linda was with her and often times Ja, too. Mom was dedicated to her family and fought fiercely for them. She truly was the backbone of her family.


Mom enjoyed life… the simple things in life. She loved to travel and see new things. She collected various items from all the different places she’s been. She loved baseball and she loved the Atlanta Braves. She and her sister Kathy used to watch the games together over the phone. Mom was very talented. She loved creating beautiful things, and she was good at it. She really enjoyed all the planning and preparation that went into her work at HoJo’s as the banquet manager and she took pride in her work. She was amazing at crocheting and created hundreds of beautiful pieces. When Mom lived in Springfield, Al spent many Sunday afternoons visiting her. They’d spend the day driving around the area, sometimes they’d test-drive cars or go fishing. Mom loved to fish. And mom loved her life at Luther Park… everything about it. She enjoyed the activities and the people who lived there. They played cards and worked on puzzles. They checked on one another and encouraged each other. She was so appreciative and truly happy the last year of her life. She wanted more time… she wanted to beat this cancer one more time and live out her days with her new friends.


Mom was so many things to so many people… a student, a provider, an encourager and listener, a fighter and a lover. Mom never signed a letter or let you off the phone without telling you, “Love you, kid.” My mom was truly amazing.


I was honored to do this for my grandmother's memory and for my dad (and his siblings) who loved her very much.


Pictures from our trip to Iowa in July 2010... good times.


July 21, 2010, she turned 80 years old



My family with Grandma Val



Rosalind and Rayne in July at Grandma's birthday party



 Regan with Rayne, grandpa Denny, uncle Al, and daddy in the background




Good times are times spent laughing together with those we love



8 family members are missing from this picture this day



The kids with their mom.  They lost their dad in 1969 when they were all teenagers.





We spent some time singing and playing music for grandma before we left Iowa that day.  She really enjoyed that.



What?! You don't let your teen text??

No.  We don't.  She wouldn't even have a phone if it wasn't for our benefit.  Our 8th grader goes to school 35 miles from home, and we have to make connections everyday to and from school, and with all the variables and school activities, we need to be able to communicate.  Initially, she was allowed to text (for the 7-8 weeks she first got her phone until school started for 7th grade).  We wanted the new to wear off of it before school started and to figure out how she would use it, given suggestions but not hard fast rules about its usage.  What we found was a multitude of one word texts... "hey" or something like "wat up" with a whole bunch of people she marginally knows or who she wouldn't otherwise talk to even if they were in the same room together.  We also found that older boys, much older, were texting her.  What a waste of time.  Soon limitations were set and she no longer can text.  She can receive texts from anyone but cannot respond.  There are a limited number of people she is allowed to text... family.  Period.  If she receives a text from a friend that needs a response, she calls them.  Her close friends know she can't text and are fine with it.  She has unlimited calling privileges (well, within reason... not after 10pm).  At first this really bummed our teen out.  But after awhile she began to see it as not so bad.  And even relieving, occasionally.  She still would love to text, but she understands why we choose not to let her.

Why?  Time management and relationship.  My children are very social beings.  We don't want them to lose those social skills.  Life is about people.... real people who have something to say and who laugh.  If you'd never speak to someone who's in the same room with you, why text with them?  Are we really that bored?  Read a book.  Call a girlfriend or an aunt and have a meaningful and/or fun personal conversation.  From a time management point of view, texting can become addicting or simply habit forming and thus a waste of time.... much like email, facebook and other social media.  I admit that I text, but it's to convey simple information quickly with people I know very well.  Often times texting enables the sender to type things -inappropriate things- that they would never say in person.  Also too often, words in texts are misinterpreted.  Without voice pitch, volume, phrasing and emphasis, meaning can be misunderstood.  I allow that only people who really know each other inside and out can regularly text without too much question of intent.

I don't want my children to be labeled social outcasts, but I think if you have a face to face conversation with any one of my daughters, you'll see that's not likely to be a problem.  Ever.  And what an easy way to protect them from themselves for just a little while longer.  Hopefully, by the time they leave my house and are able to text their little hearts out... or thumbs off, they will be past it with many meaningful relationships in their lives.  I'm choosing to be the parent.

Let me throw in one example of where our mindset is coming from.  Rodney has worked closely with the research and development department of a global corporation with mechanical trouble shooting and software feedback.  What he found was that there was one day a whole board room of Generation Yers couldn't communicate face to face in a round table problem solving meeting that the management- baby boomers- called for because of an urgent problem that Rodney discovered.  The Gen Yers had the knowledge and the ideas to remedy the problem, but they could only function through email and texting immediately after the meeting from their computers and phones.  Upon this realization, this particular corporation has changed it's recruiting focus and interview process.  And I'm fairly certain that several of the Gen Yers lost their jobs that day. 

Communication.  Relationship.  It's vital to our lives.

The cross or the crowd...

I recently listened to a sermon that talked about the thoughts and feelings (positive, righteous feelings) that come naturally to committed Christians who literally work everyday at choosing the cross over the crowd.  Read that first statement again... slowly.  Initially, I'm thinking come naturally...  because I'm thinking that natural is carnal, but just maybe, when a believer makes a decision to think and act a certain way... and with years and years and years of practice, maybe it does become natural.  I don't know, maybe.  I've come a long way in 13 years, but I cannot say that for all those years that I've consistently chosen the cross over the crowd, nor can I say that it comes naturally yet.  But that's not the topic of my blog today.  In the application of this message I was listening to, it might have said that extreme and radical following of Christ instead of the crowd will change your life, but it didn't say how.  Let me tell you how it changed mine.

Following Christ puts you against the flow.  Think of a mountain stream- about shin deep or more.  To go with the flow is relaxing... like a gentle float down the river.  A lazy river, if you will.  But have you ever stopped and just stood?   To begin to look around and really see what's going on around you takes much effort and concentration to not lose your balance.  If you are strong enough and choose to start working your way upstream, it's on...   Purposeful, intentional choices and actions as you start your swim against the tide... soon you realize you're meeting friends, family, co-workers who are all moving in the opposite direction.  Still you fight, fight, fight against the flow and it soon becomes easier as you get stronger and you begin reaping the benefits.  But at some point you look around and realize that your friends have abandoned you- even your church friends, possibly your family members, too.  You may be overlooked at work for that promotion or dismissed from consideration in an interview.  If you don't go with the flow, you are seen by the crowd as *uncooperative, a threat to the establishment- the management, the system, the foundation. *I had great difficulty finding the right adjective to correctly convey my meaning here; others that fit almost equally as well are:  contrary, headstrong, unswayable, unbending, resolute.  I have felt this time and time again, situation after situation in every area of my life over the past 3-4 years... since we made a drastic, radical change in our focus, our faith and our obedience to the cross.  I can't begin to tell someone how to prepare for it.  I had no idea it would affect my inner circle so dramatically.  I just hadn't anticipated it, that's all.  It makes sense that it has to infiltrate every portion of your life to make true change that actually changes you.  Friends and family- some will go along for the ride (join you or support you), and others will not.  And that may- no, that will break your heart.  But in the larger picture, what's important is Christ... following Christ, not the crowd.  So go ahead and be contrary, headstrong, unswayable, unbending, and resolute when it comes to following Christ.  It is worth the effort... it is worth the heartbreak... it is worth the division you feel in your earthly relationships because the heavenly blessings are so much richer.