Initial Evidence

Oh! Mama!: Initial Evidence

Lydia puts this so well....

Merry Christmas

I used to have a Peanuts cartoon that said "Happiness is seeing Christ in Christmas". I hope that Christ's love and salvation touch your life in a special way this Christmas.

I can't feel your feet

K was leaning over my shoulder reading emails and he kept stepping on my toes. I finally said to him, "Why do you keep stepping on me? Can't you feel your feet?" To which he matter-of-factly responded. "I can feel my feet, Mommy. I just can't feel yours!"

The Santa Trap

K asked recently if Santa was real. Well, no, not really, though there once was a man like Santa, but he died hundreds of years ago. But because he was so good, parents still pretend he is alive and do things in his name.

So, we stopped by Dari-Mart for milk the other night and the clerk says to K excitedly, "Are you all ready for Santa?"

"Santa's not real," says K, looking at me, then at her.

Without missing a beat she says, "He is real if he is in your heart!"

K smiles.

Now K is devising plans to find out if Santa is real. First he thought he could take all the presents from under the tree (there are none yet, by the way) and see if any appear overnight on Christmas Eve. We told him he could sleep on the couch if he wanted. Then he thought about leaving the video camera on all night, then setting a trap.... But then he thought, perhaps if he did those things, Santa would consider him naughty and not leave him a present.

So he is still thinking this one through. I'm pretty sure Santa will sneak a present under the tree for him. He's a pretty good kid. It's amazing how "real" Santa is, isn't it?

Recently, K has gotten into the Santa Spirit...He has been wearing his Santa hat and we bought him a tree skirt, in lieu of a costume, and he has been wearing that as a Santa cape....And has really been enjoying wrapping presents. He even had his horses make pictures and cards for everyone who will be at L & J's on Christmas.

Narnia

K was watching TV the other day and the question was asked, "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?" K's answer? "Narnia."

Yeah! Me too!!

Calling the Cows

One of my favorite memories of my brother Clifford is from when I was young and he milked the dozen or so cows they had on the farm. Often, the cows were across the creek, up the hill and he would send the dog to go get the cows. Sometimes there would be a "troublemaker" and he would have to go up himself to get her.

But when all the cows were stanchioned and fed, I used to sit in the hay above the cows and just listen to the rhythm of the automatic milking machines pulsing and whooshing and clicking, and to my brother singing above the din of it all in his deep bass voice. It was a safe, comfortable place, filled with the glorious smells of warm milk, sweet hay, grain and cows. Yes, I like the smell of cows!!

I think one of the things I loved so much was the music. There was no shyness in Cliff's singing. It was loud and confident; I suspect even the cows liked it.

I think I was born to be loud and boisterous and carefree. I watch my son during basketball practice; and while the other kids are dribbling, bent-kneed, quick and agile, he is skipping and dribbling, carefree, and just happy to be in the moment. He is SO like Cliff that way.

I think I was meant to be that way, too. It always seems to sneak out of me in unguarded moments. I talk too loudly or I get up from my chair and dance into the kitchen to the tune of some old music on TV (much to the amusement of my husband). But Mom had to work when I was little, and left me in the care of "Nanny", a 70-something-year-old lady who could not tolerate noise or raucous, and so I learned to be quiet in my speech and movement...most of the time.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons I loved Cliff's singing so much. Perhaps this is where I learned that it was okay to be noisy around cows. Or perhaps it's something in the genes.

I heard several stories about Cliff's ability to call the cows today. I was a little surprised to learn that it was a gift or a skill. I had seen him do it all my life. It never occurred to me that not everyone did this. I have worked for three dairies over the course of my life. When I worked for the Pitneys, Jim had his replacement herds in various pastures. In the summer he would run a herd of young heifers on a pasture off Cox Butte Road. I never saw the back of the pasture. We took a 5-gallon bucket of grain out to them every day, checked their water and did a head count and cursory health check. One day we went out and there were no heifers to be seen. I said to Jim, "Where are they?" He said to me, "Watch this." He dumped the grain in the feeder then turned the bucket upside down and began to beat on the bottom of it like a drum. Shortly, I heard rustling from the shade of the woods. It grew louder and louder and pretty soon 22 heifers emerged from the wood, trotting over to their dinner.

When Gary and I were first getting to know each other, one thing that amazed him about me was my ability to call the cows. He has a memory of me leaning out the barn door, calling, "C'mon ladies!" and the whole herd began to wake from their afternoon naps and meander into the holding pen. (I always felt more at home in a milking parlor than anywhere else...I could be loud and dance and just be myself...and the cows never told a soul!)

Anyone familiar with dairies knows there is no magic in this. Cows are conditioned...they want to eat and they want to be milked. Usually, at four in the morning, the lights turning on in the parlor and milk house, the sound of the hay being thrown down and grain being scooped into the feeders, and the sound of the vaccum pump and rinse water being run through the lines--all of these things are equivalent to ringing the breakfast bell.

But dairy cows are one thing. They are used to being handled. They are tame.

I remember my first experience with beef cattle. It was on the Mendenhall farm and we were moving a couple of herefords that had gotten free back into a pasture. My job was to stand by the gate and make sure they did not go past me and past the gate, but rather through the gate. My first lesson in cow herding--stand there and wave your arms if they come toward you--probably earned me my first job on a dairy. (I would learn later that this does not work for sheep at all--they will run past you, under you or even over you... or even try to run right through you like you are not there--nope, I don't speak sheep at all!!) With cattle, if you are taller than they are, you are bigger.

By and large, dairy cattle are much tamer than beef cattle. And aside from beating the "tom-tom" to call them out of the woods for supper, they are not handled much and are in general, not likely to come when called. They ARE still cattle though, they get used to a routine, and they come to food. I'm sure my brother's ability to call them rested in the fact that he talked to them when he fed them or talked to them at all, and they knew his voice.

When I go out my back door, my horses always come. I am the chef. The back door opening means the possibilty of food. The truck starting up might mean we are going to get hay or something better. When I come home from a walk, a whinney nearly always greets me.

When I walk down the driveway to get the paper, there are usually three or four cats following me. Why? I don't feed them out on the road or take them for walks...they just follow me. And they follow me back to the house too. When I get up from my desk, my entourage of two dogs preceeds me. I cannot sneak anywhere in the house when the dogs are in, becuase whenever I get up from wherever I am, they go ahead of me. My old beagle was so attuned to my customs that if I put my "walking" shoes on, she would eagerly stand by the door and I could not leave without her.

I think the "ability" to call the cows (or the cats or the dogs or whomever) lies in the relationship to the creatures. My grandma could make friends with any creature. No matter where she was in the world, she took time to observe and interact with the creatures around her. I think THAT is the real gift. I suppose anyone could "call the cows", but not just anyone cares to!!

Another great post from Jamie

This was so good, I wanted to share with you all. My cousin, Jamie Downing, wrote this.


Saturday, December 6, 2008

The Imitator

Isaak likes to set the table, because that's what he sees the rest of us do. When the girls sit down at the school table to do schoolwork, Isaak climbs up into a chair and sits down to color. If someone is reading a book, he goes and gets one of his books to look at. Last week, he opened the door to the garage, just like everyone else is capable of doing. He's seen us go down the stairs sliding our hands along the banister, so when he scoots down the stairs (backwards), he slides his hand along the baseboard, just like the people he admires most!


As I watched him navigate down the stairs the other day, Ephesians 5:1 popped into my head. (OK, the verse popped into my head; I had to go look up the reference!) "Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children."

Isaak is always watching us, the big people in his life. He sees how we do things, and how we say things. He is learning from our examples! How much more should we, then, be imitating God!

Isaak has learned so much already from us, and now I am learning from his example. Imitating God is not a once-in-a-while deal, or a when-I-feel-like-it kind of thing. It is a watch-Him-constantly and always-do-our-best-to-copy-Him in every area of our lives kind of thing!

And it's so simple, a 19-month-old can do it! :)

Christmas Season has Begun

Some scenes from Christmases past....

2007~ This was the first year EVER that we put up lights. (Can you tell what humbugs and scrooges we are?). K found the reindeer relatively cheap at BiMart, on sale before Christmas!! So we put one with his front feet on the tree, like he was eating it, as deer (and horses) do. 2004~ This is Joe Kitty hiding under the tree. She would hide and every time we walked by, she would attack our ankles.

My favorite Santa and Elf.

G's favorite elf. ------->

Our favorite poodle and the Grandbeagle.

But for the creative baker in our family, K, the REAL tradition (besides lights and presents and tree and ritual cartoons like the Grinch and Frosty and Shrek the Halls and..and...and...) is our homeschool group's annual gingerbread house decorating party. Where we all come with our undecorated creations and pool our candies, make giant batches of frosting, and get loaded up on sugar. Fifty kids high on sugar. Football in the parking lot afterwards!!

2006~

I think if you click on these, you might get bigger images. Notice the K on the roof and the pretzel fence...Not for the faint of heart or unsteady of hand!

2007~ Anyone who knows K, knows how he loves trains, so this was a natural.
We got the idea from Family Fun Magazine. We learned a lot and hope to improve still this year!




2008~ (photo coming soon). K and I actually designed our own creation this year. (Not saying what it is, lest the cat get out of the bag and spoil the surprise for Friday!) I had K actually build his creation out of paper, then explained to him that gingerbread doesn't bend like paper, so we then made his creation out of cardboard, altering it slightly where the paper wanted to bend and imagining how we could make it out of flat pieces. Hoping it actually works...no one to copy....no magazine patterns...We made three batches of gingerbread dough and tomorrow mornng we roll and bake....Will post pictures later, assuming anyone is actually interested....

Notice the gold "treasure", the cannon and the pile of cannon balls, the sharks in the water with the guy overboard (don't know why K threw him both an anchor AND a life preserver, the fruit roll-up sail (gotta work on that aspect), and the snow on the deck--It IS Christmas after all! We definitely know where to improve next year!

2008~ All of our cats have been showing their kitten sides, ambushing one another around the tree, batting the bell, chasing ormanents all over the house and, of course, leaving a mess of needles that needs to be swept several times per day. What fun that the humans brought a tree in the house! Now, where is the nest? It's gotta be in there somewhere!


And just for fun...

Christmas 1965~ The REAL Santa.

Christmas 1966~ He's not the real one, he must be one of Santa's helpers.......

By Faith or By Sight?

I remember taking psychology in college (probably the easiest course I ever took) and I read about an experiment done with babies, probably about 6 months old, and the development of depth perception. The experiment involved putting a plexiglass floor over another floor about 3 feet down. Babies would crawl up to the edge, but not crawl across it. Another study was done where the babies again crawled up to the edge and stopped, but a parent was on the other side coaxing them across. The younger the babies were, the more eagerly they crawled across to their parents. As they got older, they had learned to put more trust in their own judgments.

With regard to my brother's health and my own prayers for and confidence in his healing, I feel like I am in a tug-of-war between faith and sight. By faith, I see a miraculous healing of all of this that plagues him now--the pneumonia, the Guillain-Barre syndrome, and ultimately the cancer. By faith, I see him completely restored to the man God created him to be. By faith, I see him in a relationship with God, gaining an understanding of his immense value, joyful that the One who knows him best loves him most, dancing and singing and playing his accordion again. By faith, I see any shyness about expressing his love for people gone. By faith, I see him accepting a hug from me and not blushing.

It's my flesh that struggles. My emotions get me every time. I hate riding the emotional roller coaster of better-worse-better-worse. I just need to close my eyes, I guess, and walk by faith. Oh for the trust of that 6-month-old who unhesitatingly crawls across the glass to her mother. My faith is more like that of Peter, who was eager to believe, but took his eyes off Jesus, and seeing the waves and being buffeted by the wind, he began to sink.

From "Walking on the Water" by Marcellino D'Ambrosio: "The most frequently repeated phrase in the gospels is “Do not be afraid!” The Lord is not speaking to our emotions here, since you can’t command emotions. He is speaking to our will. We must make a conscious decision not to allow fear to paralyze us. Peter sank because he stopped walking. Faith means to keep walking even when your knees are knocking."

They plan to take Cliff off the respirator Thursday. They plan to do this according to human sight. (Do not read judgment into these words. These decisions are being made by people who love Cliff and are doing as Cliff would wish.) I am still praying for and believing in complete healing.