Tag Archives: Jesus

How Marvelous

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Amazing how just a few notes on the piano at church can move a big ol gal like me to a whole different place. Just like being picked up and before I know it, there I am, twelve and sassy mouthed, standing next to Grannycakes who sings louder than anyone else in that cavernous chapel with the peeling light blue paint and the plain wooden cross that has a simple purple scarf draped round its arms as it stands so tall and quiet and loud up on there on the back wall.

The piano now is a shiny black baby grand, but the one back then was old. Towering and brown in all its Southern Baptistness, a little out of tune and twangy as its hymns bounced off the unfinished wood floors that were half covered in indoor/outdoor carpet, blue to match the walls.

The light switches were those push-button kind, rectangular panels of little circles that I loved to push –mash as my grandparents would say- and listen to the clunk and see what hanging light would go off with my mashing.

I stand amazed.

But really, not so much.

Not when I’m twelve and I think my grandma sings horribly and I pretty much hate being there but I love her enough to go when she asks the night before with a twinkle in her eye.

grannycakes a

My granddad speaks that morning, -little churches can never keep a preacher it seems- and he cries and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard that and doesn’t it just tear up the heart of a female to hear a grown man cry?

And then that big cross.

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Not much else to look at as the piano plunks and the ten or so people try to follow along but all their ears can hear is the short little lady from the South in the second row singing her out-of-tune heart all-out to Jesus with every four feet and eleven inches of her while her chubby and pimply granddaughter stands awkwardly by and attempts to not look like she’s singing while she’s singing enough to not look sullen.

It’s hard to look cool when you don’t feel cool.

It’s hard to blend in when you’re standing next to someone whose voice is filling the whole sky.

grannycakes

So when the preacher sings I Stand Amazed and it’s five-thousand miles and thirty years later and you don’t worry so much about looking cool anymore and neither do the kids next to you because they’re cooler than you ever were and don’t care if they’re not, I’m carried to the robin’s egg blue and that simple wooden cross and I can almost hear her through the tears that surprise me because really, it is pretty marvelous, isn’t it?

Pretty marvelous that the pimply little girl who didn’t know what it all meant but thought she knew it all, well, she eventually learned, and now she knows she doesn’t know it all, but she doesn’t pretend to anymore either.

Pretty marvelous that in her not knowing, she came to know what she needed to know to teach her children what they’ll need to know.

Pretty marvelous that as they’re all learning what they know…and following what they know…and teaching what they know…they can be with others who are doing the same.

Those ones who sing loud and proud like Grannycakes.

Those ones who are shy and awkward and still searching.

Those ones who stand tall with every inch of themselves and try to sing it true even if it is a little off-key.

Those ones who are like children still and are pimply in their faith.

Those ones who have bodies that ail and won’t be with us for too many more years.

Those ones who grieve and mourn and can only manage tears around their choked out words.

Those ones who forget things now, names and places and people, but they always remember why they’re singing.

Those ones who sing all-out to the One who gave out His all…

…and isn’t it marvelous?

I’d give every penny I have to hear her sing again.

But some days…

…if I listen hard enough…

…and if the song is just Baptisty enough…

…and if my heart is just soft enough…

I can almost hear her.

And in almost hearing, I can see that paint and those lights and the tall walnut pews and the quietly loud cross and all those the people who aren’t cool but who cry…

…and even though it wasn’t perfect and even though there was pain and even though it was a long and bumpy road to find what I now know…

…I’m standing in the presence and it reminds me that one marvelous day, her and I, and all of us here who know just how marvelous it is, well, we’ll all stand there.

We’ll be amazed.

And we’ll sing.

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~

I Stand Amazed
Chris Tomlin

 

Strong Men

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It used to be men were strong and women were gentle and that was just the way of it. But now women are strong and men are soft and if you watch any show on television, you’ll soon learn that men are wimpy. Spineless. Weak.

Except they’re not.

At all.

They are still strong and when we remember that, and treat them like we remember that, they’ll show us just how strong they really are.

And when we go one step further, and remember what strength really means, what being strong looks like, we’ll see a lot more strength in our men.

Strength isn’t arrogantly flashing a college degree or a tricked out Cadillac Escalade or fancy jewelry or fancy words while you forget to care for the people the Bible tells us to care for.

Strength isn’t flaunting sparkly clothes and surrounding yourself with shiny happy people while you ignore the undesirables of the world.

Strength isn’t joking about your inadequacy or making yourself a bumbling sitcom idiot.

Strength isn’t beating your chest and lording it over the females in your life that you are a man.

Strength isn’t raising your strong male hand to any creature weaker than you.

Strength is protecting your woman and your children with the muscles God gave you. The ones in your arms and the ones in your mind.

Strength is humbly pouring into a congregation of people for over forty years with the hope of bringing a community to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.

Strength is remembering where you came from and remembering where you are going and trying to bring along as many as you can, no matter where they happen to be now.

Strength is seeing something ugly but loving it anyway.

Strength is telling your wife to enjoy the sermon while you sit with the sick child, even though you rarely get to sit in on classes at church because you’re always so busy serving at church.

Strength is letting the tears of joy fall free when you are reunited with your church family after missing Easter service and you choke up but keep talking anyway as you bring them all before the Throne with your words.

Strength is using what God gave you, practicing your skills and becoming a self-taught professional who uses his fame to show the world what it means to love your Savior and your family above worldly wealth and riches.

Strength is teaching the boys of this nation how to be gentlemen, how to treat girls, how to shake hands, how to put others first, and how to open doors. How to be a man of strength just like you.

Strength is taking your arms and stretching them wide, wide enough to circle the earth, and letting people who hate you hammer iron spikes right on through. Strength is not wanting to do that part, but loving enough to do it anyway.

He was strong because God asked Him to be.

And God asks our men to do that too.

And if we let them, they’ll do it. They’ll show us their strength.

They’ll show us all the gentleness and tenderness and sacrifice and selflessness and love they keep stored under those big muscles in their arms and right underneath their broad backs and right there under their ribs where their heart pumps loud and steady for all those they love.

When we quit flexing our hate-them feminism muscles and start remembering the treasure we are…as strong women…as gentle women…as soft women…as cherished women…as His women…

…we’ll see it.

We’ll see their strength.

And then we’ll see them.

 It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure.  2 Samuel 22:33

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Standing in the Presence and…The Ugly Cry

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I’m not a big crier.

Unless you count that one time when I was about halfway through my first pregnancy and couldn’t sleep so I decided to stay up late and watch Beaches. You know, Bette Midler…Atlantic City…her best friend dies Beaches?

I found myself sitting in the dark in front of the TV that night with a roll of toilet paper next to me, most of it in torn-off clumps all around my fat lap, shocked and surprised by the body racking sobs that had overtaken me.

I’m not talking just a good cry here. I’m talking snot flowing, spit flying, teeth bared, I can’t breathe kinda sobs. I didn’t know what came over me! That had n-e-v-e-r happened before.

I was later informed by my bff, it’s what’s called…

…The Ugly Cry.

(For the record, there is a counterpart to The Ugly Cry called The Ugly Laugh. It looks much the same but there is usually table pounding involved.)



I don’t not-cry in attempts to be stoic, or strong, or studly, or because I hate crying. It’s none of those things. My heart isn’t hard and I’m touched deeply and moved by life’s tender moments and love to talk and write about them all openly and honestly. Without tears.

Unless…

…unless it’s one of those moments where I just know I’m standing in the presence of God.

Now, I could write pages on that one little sentence alone couldn’t I? How do you know when you’re standing in the presence of God? As a child of God, isn’t He always standing with you? Or for that matter, how can God stand anywhere?

All good questions, and we could talk long about them theologically, but I think you know what I mean.

Those times when it’s been ages since I’ve made a point to dig into the Word and I open it, determined to read today, but scared that He’ll have given up on my wandering heart. And there, right there on the page where I last left off, are words that speak so tender to my heart it could only be that the Author wrote them just that morning while I waited for the coffee to brew.

Or the day when I didn’t even realize I was needing some extra guidance from Him, but pulling out of the driveway that dark morning to go meet a little horse I suspected belonged on our farm, I was shocked to flip on the radio right in the middle of an hour-long interview with a woman who spoke about horses and Jesus and the power of one to bring us closer to the other and how these animals have a way of bringing out the best in us and bringing us closer to Him.meandcharlottespring

Or when I’m at church and the praise team starts a song my heart knows from childhood and it’s almost like I’m standing in the old, light blue chapel with Granny Cakes again, her loud, off-key voice belting out the song after hearing just the first note while her large-print hymnbook rests, unopened, on the pew next to her. She sang so much louder in church than she did at her kitchen sink. I’d wish she had one of those soft, soprano sing songy voices like other grandmothers had and it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized, she held the tune for the whole group of fifteen. She knew all the songs and she sang them as loud as she could and she loved the Lord she sang her heart out to and she didn’t care what she sounded like and now, as a grown woman I’d give all the money I had to stand next to her in church again and hear her beautiful voice sing.

Those are the moments I’m talking about.

Those are the moments when tears will come.

Because even though He’s always there, it’s in those moments you know He’s there. It’s in those moments you feel He’s there. And it brings forth tears straight up out of your heart that you didn’t even know were there.

So yesterday when I didn’t want to go to church…when I wanted to let the blankets keep me warm and keep me wrapped and keep me isolated from the movements of the morning and the people of the day…

…doesn’t a soul just get tired sometimes? And doesn’t the road just seem long sometimes? And even when it seems like it should be so easy, can’t it get hard sometimes?…

…I went anyway.

Because my little people need me to.

Because my husband said we were.

Because even tired in the body and weak in the spirit and weary with the weather and burdened with the everydayness…

He says get up.

He says even when you’re tired, especially when you’re tired, when you seek me with all your heart, you WILL find me.

He says I am with you. And I will strengthen you.

When we want to isolate isn’t that when we need to stand in the presence the most?

So awkward and bumbling, I go, walking through the movements, bringing what I can to Him, my kids, my smile, my out of sorts, my weak.

The songs can sometimes be the same, those poems up there on the screen and the organ starts up and the preacher starts singing and then I’m ten again and Granny Cakes is in my ear except it’s not her, it’s our dear Mrs. K who teaches the babies like my Granny Cakes did and who loves Jesus with all her heart like my Granny Cakes did and who sings loud for Him just like my Granny Cakes did.

That sweet voice in my ear makes the tears come and my knees buckle and here out of the blue comes The Ugly Cry because how could I have almost missed this today?

My husband brings Kleenex and my boy holds his Mama’s hand strong and the tears just trickle on down as I was brought Nearer, Nearer to the cross where Thou hast died.

I stood in the presence and all I could do was cry.

He was with me.

And in that moment my faith grew a little stronger.

The deacon, that man who is a little like me and has tears when He stands in the presence, well he talks about the goodness of the Lord and brings us righteous Good News.

And the friends that were in a car wreck two days ago, cracking ribs and crunching their big truck right up there on a stretch of road known for killing people, they walk in and people in their seats cry quiet happy…we have them with us still.

And the preacher talks about hard things that make him want to cry but when you speak in front of a crowd, you have to work hard not to because up there it could go real quick to The Ugly Cry.

And I might’ve yearned for my blankets to keep me safe, but this…

…this is what really covers me. I needed to be here. These people need me. And I need them.

Even when it seems like I just want to stay home and give up the familiar, routine, every-week-for-years-now Sunday morning steps, God gave these people to me and they are the ones that help me walk toward the joy when I’m having a hard time finding it on my own.

I’ll stand in His presence and they’ll help hold me up and I’ll help hold them up and together, tears and mess and mistakes and all…

…we’ll grow a little stronger.images

My husband’s big strong arm. My boy’s getting-bigger strong hand. Mrs. K’s strong voice and stronger hugs. The strong laugh from across the room. The strong smiles of all those who might be a little like me today, feeling outside the circle, tired out with the time of year…the time of month…this time of life. When I’d rather stay home, let my blankets protect, let the familiar of my house keep my insecurities safe, they’ll come too and stand with me in His presence and I’ll stand with them and when we’re the weakest aren’t we really the strongest?

When we’re weak and weary and burdened and we come to Him, won’t He give us rest?

When I take His yoke and learn from Him, doesn’t He prove that He is gentle, and humble in heart?

Won’t I find rest for my soul?

He says it all right there in red in that eleventh chapter of Matthew’s book. He told us true and spoke it into the generations.

It’s easy. And it’s light.

When we stand together…

…no, sometimes we won’t want to…

When we stand with Him…

…yes, our knees might occasionally buckle …

While it might be hard…

…you’ll probably find yourself hit with The Ugly Cry once in a while…

Don’t we need to though?

Stand in the presence?

To sing. To pray. To learn. To lean. To grow.

To be weak.

Together.

Because when we’re weak…

…that’s when really…

…we’re strong.

“‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’. (Jesus)
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me…
For when I am weak, then I am strong.”(Paul)
2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Heaven Came Down

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It’s been ten years since I told Jesus I do.

A short ten years. In that decade I’ve watched a lot of other people get baptized.

And do you know, after they come up we always sing Now I belong to Jesus. But on the day I came up it was Heaven Came Down. Just that once for some reason. Oh what a wonderful, wonderful day.

And on that day Heaven did come down. And glory filled my soul.

But some days it’s just too much. And that filled soul just wants to weep.

When there are people dying of cancer. Or when three families stagger under the loss of their loved ones and whole communities grieve their stunned hearts out. Or when a mama leaves early and her babies are little, so little. Or when a baby leaves early and her mama is left just a shell. When cities riot. When a dear friend’s heart is breaking. When a country falls apart.

And today the preacher talked about a caterpillar. Tucked up tight in its cocoon, all wrapped up in there.

Clinging.

A thread.

Holding right there tight to the branch. Secure, that tree keeps the cocoon from falling…

…right on down into nothing.

Into death.

Those strong men today telling Jesus I do, up out of the clean, getting stronger. They didn’t fall. Slippery floor they stand and against the stagger they stood and they said Now, I belong to Jesus.

And then that cocoon…

…oh what emerges. The butterfly…flying, and don’t we all know that story? That beauty of when Heaven came down?

And we weep with joy.

But we weep with sadness too. At the weight of what death leaves behind. The shell.

But when it emerges, when we watch for it, if we look and see, search for it with all our hearts….

…in the falling we can still find the beauty. Right there in the weight of it all, right there in the sadness…

…glory fills our souls.

…weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5

© Cassandra Rankin, This Crazy Little Farm

Last Day of a Decade

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My life is no longer than the width of my hand. An entire lifetime is just a moment to you; human existence is but a breath.  Psalm 39:5

On the last dIphone photos Summer 2013 501ay of her twenties it was all new.

New in the marriage that, at a decade old, was starting to change. New in the child that was not yet two. New in the friends that were coming into her life. New in not working the job she once loved to instead work each day in her warm old house. New in the baby that was still at her breast.

And it was especially new in the Book she was reading, that anthology of 66 that was teaching her so many things…so, so many of them…all brand new.

New ways of living. New ways of learning. New ways of growing. New ways of reacting. New ways of saying yes. New ways of saying no. New ways of trusting.

She was fresh up from the water.

New.

And when she turned thirty, her friends came and her husband smiled and her heart beamed. And she wondered.

The old could still cling on.

She wasn’t sure what the pull inside was exactly, it just felt…new.

So she kept following it. Even when the old pulled on.

Then two more babies later, and many more times in that Book, through that Book…late night prayers and late night tears and missing him when he had to go to work, sometimes far away, and loving him when he came home, and smiling when he too came up fresh out of the water, and learning how those children grow and how they act and how they love and what makes them giggle…and praying, praying all the years along and then one day soon before she knows it…

…it’s the last day of another decade.

And it’s not the old kind of new anymore.

It feels like a different kind of new.

A comfortable new. A familiar new. A warm new.

An old new.

It might not be a new new but in this life, isn’t every day new?

A sunrise, a good morning smile, jobs waiting, chores to be done, friends to be made, people to love. Another day, just one day, fresh, ours, air into the lungs, God into the heart.

New.

The old can still cling on, but not so much anymore.

The last day of her thirties she smiled the whole day through.

Through the leaky roof and the chores and the blue tarp and the mud and the rain that just went on and on.

When her boy, not near two now, but near on twelve, did the wet and cold and messy man work on the farm while his Daddy worked hard for their paycheck, her heart smiled and she thought of him as a toddler. Back then he liked to help Mama bake cookies, his strong mama who held him tight. He liked to help her do the fun work of homemaking. Now he likes to help his mama with the hard work, the ugly work of farm making. She doesn’t have to be so strong when he’s there. Almost a man he shows her.

And her heart smiles joy.

That girl, that baby just a decade ago, she tends too, but she tends tender and keeps the young ones inside, warm and dry and away from the parts of farm life that just might hurt a heart too young. She protects without even knowing that’s what she’s doing and because she does, they get a little more time to just be little. Almost a mama that girl could be.

And her heart smiles love.

Those other two, precious babies, so tall now but always her babies, coming in the first half of the decade, they hold her heart and make her smile. Growing so big. But still so fresh. So young. So new.

And her heart smiles peace.

And that old that clings on doesn’t cling so tight.

And the new she feels is an older new.

A wiser new.

A thankful new.

What can another decade bring? This marriage, still new but almost crossing the two-decade line; these children, growing so strong, learning so much, changing each minute;  these friends, holding her up, making her laugh and growing with her year by year, what more could come?

What new could come?

Could it be here in that Book? That Book, that 66 volume Book, old but so fresh.

Alive.

Active.

Ancient.

New.

She flips through its pages that last week and realizes how much more she wants to learn. There is so much more to know about Him, that One who wrote it for her, for all of them, and she looks forward to a whole new decade of learning…reading…studying…growing.

The old that clings on now is the old that smiles.

Her history.

The path that brought her round on to Him.

The road to Jesus that marched her straight through her thirties. That two-track that feels like the road she always wanted to take…the road she never wants to veer off of.

She feels the pull and it still feels…new.

New ways of living. New ways of learning. New ways of growing. New ways of reacting. New ways of saying yes. New ways of saying no. New ways of trusting.

How much more can another decade bring when the past ten years brought so much?

Those are the things she ponders up in her heart on that day….

… the last day of a decade.

Ancient words ever true…Changing me and changing you…We have come with open hearts…Oh, let the ancient words impart…Image

Little Princess

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So I’ve been teaching the girls at church how to be a princess. And isn’t it when you teach the most you learn the most?

And how can I tell a room full of six to eleven year olds, their big eyes hanging on my every word, and not believe it myself?

I can’t.

So when He tells us right there in our Princess Manual that I’ve been adopted into His royal family, that I am His daughter which makes me an heir, that He is my King and He is enthralled by my beauty, well, when He tells us that right there and signs it all in red ink, I need to tell them. And I need to believe it too.

A princess? Me?

Them, yes. Of course them. Their sweet, precious, innocent soft faces. Their eyes big as we read together from a chapter book. Their proud smiles as they show me how hard they worked to memorize the verse I wrote for them on the board. Their faces lovely and untainted just yet by too much of what the world has to offer them. Unblemished, free of too much world-ugly.

Of course they are princesses, each and every one.

My princesses, the two that live here with me, well their Daddy calls them his Warrior Princesses. Muddy feet and messy hair and mosquito bites on their legs, they hold their big brother down and if it’s a happy day, tickle him. If it’s an angry day they might just hold him down. And their Daddy tells them a story at bedtime about two Warrior Princesses and their adventures. It’s a years-long story. And they delight in it. And deep down they know they are really the princesses in their Daddy’s story.

And how can you be a princess for ten years and know it, but then when you teach the little girls at church, you discover it all over again?

Ten years.

My mama, she acts like a princess because she’s brave and strong in her battles. My one friend, she brings love and light and beauty to everything she touches. I have another princess friend who would feed the whole world if her castle kitchen would allow it. And another is princessly by getting right to the truth of a matter. Another talks to animals and they listen. And one, well she suffered so much loss in her life you’d think her mama princess heart might just fall out of her beautiful chest one day but she somehow keeps it in there and manages to love…oh, she loves with the biggest hugs you’ve ever known and a song so beautiful you’ve never heard such a sound and a smile so bright it really could light up a city.

Yes, I know some princesses.

And now I know fifteen more. Little princesses. Jesus’ princesses.

So I’m learning, again, deep down, I’m the princess in the story.

You’re the princess in the story.

When you belong to the King, when you are daughter to the Most High, when you are no longer a foreigner or an alien, but a fellow citizen with God’s people and members of God’s household (Eph 2:19)…we get to be princesses together.

Not a Disney princess or a TV princess or a princess that has to wear a ball gown even. No, you are a princess who has a royal Daddy and He adores you and your mosquito bitten legs.

And even if you didn’t have one that told you bedtime stories when you were little…or if the bedtime stories he told were painful ones…our royal Daddy takes all that in His big strong arms and He says here, nail it all up there and leave it because I AM STRONG and I LOVE YOU and you don’t need to carry that around anymore because it’s just.too.heavy and I want You to carry around my love instead. It’s a lot lighter and I custom made you for that job and you are beautiful and you belong to me and I know you can do it.

And then He shows us how. He says I’ll show you how much I love you and I’ll show you how to live as my daughter, my princess.

We get to choose that. We get to choose to be royalty. He tells us right there in the Princess Manual, John, 1: 12 that those who believed in His name, he gave the right to become children of God. I get to pick Him! And then in picking Him, He shows me how He really picked me first. From the beginning of time. He’s just been waiting for me to say yes, Daddy, and traipse my muddy feet over onto His walkway where He’s waiting arms open for me to come in.

And the bedtime story, that years-long story, ten years now and finally, finally, I realize, it’s really me! He’s talking about me! Instead of Once Upon a Time though it says right now, today. This is it. You are royalty and The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing. (Nehemiah 3:17)

And that makes me feel like a princess. A Warrior Princess. A muddy feet and messy hair princess that has a Daddy who loves her very, very much.

Because of that I can teach those little precious girls that they are Princesses too.

That they are each and every one, Jesus’ Little Princess.

The king is enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your lord. Psalm 45:11

Crown

© Cassandra Rankin, This Crazy Little Farm

Life is Messy and Things Aren’t Always Little on this Crazy Little Farm

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    “…for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine.” ~Psalm 50:10-11

We’ve had our little farm just three years. Not long in the grand scheme of things. But you’d be amazed what a mama can learn in three years, especially when it comes to animals. And kids of course.

An especially poignant day comes to mind when this mama found herself in the surreal situation of stuffing the way-back of her Ford Expedition full to the ceiling before sunup one morning, cages and kennels teetering while she drove through the early morning dark, her children’s faces in the rearview, solemnly brushing the lint off their white fancy shirts, combing their hair and their coon skin caps and quietly practicing their showmanship routine.

Guinea pig shows will do that to a family. You see, this raising animals gig ain’t for the faint of heart. I said it after my kids raised the roof and cleaned house with their little pig herd, winning ribbons and prizes and honorable mentions as I just sat bewildered, shaking my head slowly. I told the judge then and I maintain it now, you just never know what road you’re gonna travel once you become a mother.piggies

And that’s the way it is with farm life too. We’re little. We have pets on the barnyard, not dairy cows or beef cattle. Our little herd of mini horses and goats are just fun family members who fill our table talk and empty our checking account. We’re not pros, heck we have to pray for strength and fortitude before we even butcher up a few chickens. Big ranchers are tough and strong and get thrown off bulls and cut their hands on barbed wire. We’re what you’d call a much softer, fluffier version of that. Think petting zoo. But not quite as cute. That’s us. With a buncha guinea pigs and a two-toed rooster thrown in.

Large scale farmers or not though, we’ve still learned a peck about life from these crazy animals. In fact, I’d venture to say I’ve learned more about life and love and how this whole operation works in the three little years we’ve had this crazy little farm than I probably did in all the years before hand. You see, when God made animals, He gave them to us humans to take care of. And yes, some animals are with us just for companionship and to keep our feet warm at night, and that’s a wonderful thing. But there’s more to it too.

The way I figure it, as long as this big old world keeps spinning, and no matter what happens on it, there will always be animals. Always. For friendship, for work, for transportation, for eats. Where there are people, there will be animals. And as long as there are animals, there will always be a need for people who know how to care for them. So that’s what we’re doing. We’ve set out to learn. We’re learning how to care for animals. And in learning how to care for animals, we’re learning a whole bunch about how to care for people too. These are just a few of the tidbits we’ve garnered:

Life is messy. Farm life isn’t like what we see on t.v. The farms on t.v. have us thinking barns clean themselves, manure evaporates, animals quietly graze on grass all their livelong days and no one ever gets sick. Or when they do, a quick visit from the vet fixes them up lickety split. Life, real life, is messy.

And you’ll more than once find yourself standing in a pile of poop, wondering how you got there, and having no other option than to just take your shovel and get after it. But after a few times of mucking, it’ll get to become a little more familiar. It won’t be so alarming after you’ve been through it once or twice. You’ll get better at dealing with the poop. And you might even start to figure out ways to head off big messes. But it’s still going to always be there. In life, there’s poop. You just gotta learn to deal with it.

Life is unpredictable. You learn to deal with messes and may even get good at it. But then, on farms, and in life, something’ll get thrown at you that you have no idea where it came from or how to deal with it. The pony will get sick and you’ll find yourself giving him shots in the neck twice a day for two weeks straight even though you can barely calm the shaking in your hands. Or the hedgehog will develop a very sudden onset of Wobbly Hedgehog Syndrome one morning which will force you to ask your husband twelve hours later if he wouldn’t mind just getting it over with by gently sending the poor animal to the hereafter while you and the kids run into town. Things happen that you’d never even think of when you woke up in the morning and the older you get, the harder it is to deal with sudden happenings, but the easier it gets too because when it comes down to it, isn’t that real life? Interruptions…Surprises…Messes…Unpredictable.

Life needs our attention. When you’ve got critters, you study them close and you study them long. You come to know what an animal needs from you. You understand more than anyone else on earth what they need for food, shelter, routine, training, affection. That animal has specific needs as an individual. You are the person that been commissioned to meet the needs of that critter. If I don’t study the critters on my barnyard, if I don’t know what they need, I’ll wake up one morning to a loose animal, a sick animal or a dead animal. It’s my job to give them my attention.

This life needs our attention.

Careers, worship, recreation, sports, education…all contain one common thing: people. There are people under my roof I need to study close and I need to study long. They have needs that only I can meet. I’ve been commissioned. I need to know how they learn, what their favorites are, what makes them thrive, what makes them shrivel.

Who needs your attention? Study them close and study them long. Make sure they’re warm and fed and sheltered and that they have your affection. We don’t want our people lost, or sick or spiritually dead.

Life needs our commitment. As I write, it is six degrees below zero. Yesterday it was 15 below, the day before 17 below zero. It gets dark at 4:30 p.m. This will go on for months, at least four, usually more like five, depending on our weather pattern. The animals on our barnyard don’t comprehend these details, but they have a keen understanding of when they’re too cold, when their water has frozen solid, when it’s chow time and who brings these things to them. Life isn’t a joy ride. It gets ugly, it gets messy and it gets cold. You have to do it anyway. Because you committed to it and because there are critters, and people, who need you.

Take care of the outcasts. Every herd has an outcast. That one who’s never invited in, who tends to stand off alone, sometimes by choice, but most times because they’re driven off. Jesus took care of them. We have to love them. And they’ll love you right back. Forever.

My little horse is an outcast. So she eats first on our farm. Every day. She still bristles though when I want to come in close. Her first instinct is to want to run. But when I use my soft voice, and gently reach out to her, she’ll come in close and let me hug her neck. She stands still and her eyes go soft. She’ll blink, almost in puzzlement. Then she’ll sigh. She receives my love. She knows that I love her even though something in her just wants to run. Even though she feels outside of the herd, she knows she is safe with me.

I’m an outcast. Somewhere, somehow, aren’t you one too? Don’t we all sometimes feel like we don’t fit? Like we want to bristle? To run? And if you don’t, trust me, someone you know does. We’re walking and talking with folks on this planet every day who’ve been run off, who aren’t invited in, who are just plain scared of the herd. Love them. Jesus told us to. You might help heal their heart. And you’ll both have a friend forever.

Kindness usually works. When an animal is mean, it is usually because it is scared or sick. Sometimes people are mean. They are usually scared or sick too. Don’t be mean back. Kindness usually works.

It doesn’t always go the way you’d hope. Death is part of life and even though we hate it, we’ll have to say goodbye to those we love. It will almost break your heart in two to see an animal you’ve loved, tended to, syringe fed, kept hydrated, administered shots to – lying there lifeless, eyes dull, no more movement in their once-strong muscles. It will break your heart in two to see the tears rolling down your children’s chins as they look on that same animal. But it will happen. It’s part of life’s natural process and seeing death in our animals helps us appreciate life with our people all the more.

Life requires help. It might be in the form of getting the sweet neighbor boys to do some work for you, or hiring a babysitter, or someone to mop your floors, or asking your best friend to go for a walk. We aren’t an island and this life wasn’t meant to be solitary and we need people. Especially during the extra messy times. When we try to walk it alone we walk it hard and in the hardness bitter is born. We need help.flat tire

It takes two. When I carry one bucket I’m a weakling. I slosh the water all over my pant leg and into my boot and bring a half empty haul to the trough. When I carry two I am strong like a teenaged boy and deliver full buckets to the barn. It’s uneven with one. Heavy. Too much to carry. It takes two. It’s balanced with two. God wasn’t kidding us when He said it right there in Ecclesiastes 4, “two are better than one”. Friend. Family. Spouse. Neighbor. Pair up with someone. Get a buddy. Share the load. In this life, it takes two.

There’s more. So much more.

Like how I’ve learned so much about my obedience to God when I train my misfit mini horse. How some animals will listen to certain people but treat others like poo on a shoe. How maddening that is, in animal world and in people world.

sun bathing rubyHow sneaky little goats make you think they’re the cutest thing in the world and then you turn your back and they cause a ruckus that raises the roof, much like a willful and exploratory two-year-old.

How a rabbit will warn all in the hutch of oncoming danger. They look out for one another and will even let kits from another nest nurse and move into their nest if need be. They instinctively take care of the helpless.

How some things are just good plain fun to watch and bring tranquility. Like a flock of chickens. Talk about boring and tranquil entertainment. And even then, there’s the blessing of eggs. Life doesn’t always have to be serious and industrious. We sometimes need a little boring entertainment. A place to sit. Something goofy to watch.

And when we do, even in the boring…
…we’ll find blessing.kit in Daddy's hands

© Cassandra Rankin, This Crazy Little Farm