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 Most days I love the life we've chosen and I am abundantly grateful for all God has given us. But there are moments I detest. Last week was one of those times. We left to run some errands one afternoon and when we got home our favorite ewe was down. We worked vigorously to save her, but she didn't make it. Knowing she was going to lamb any day we turned our attention to try to save her babies. I did a C-section and pulled out two perfectly formed, adorable, lifeless lambs. We tried to revive them - to no avail. In these moments you face your own mortality and remember how sacred life is. I scrambled for words to explain to little ones why we were soaked in blood, while lifeless lambs lay in the tub, and Betty laid dead in the barn. It's a time of sadness, reflection, and it humbles. I should have checked on her more often. If we had been home and gone out to the barn sooner maybe we could have helped her in time? Questions spin: If I had only...more knowledge...done better
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Invisible Enemy

It pushes it's way down the path, arousing leaves from their autumn slumber. Dancing it's way through the hanging chimes the music grows louder. With each passing moment it's power intensifies. Lying in bed I listen to it's howling...beating against the barn door...looking for it's's way in. I don't always think of it's existence although it surrounds me daily. Most of the time it's quiet. It's affects invisible. Something to just breath in...breath in without any thought. Sometimes it comes as a gentle welcomed breeze in the midst of July heat or the crisp coolness on an autumn eve, but in the midst of a storm the wind can not be denied. With violence it beats it's way through destroying anything in it's path. Like our enemy.   The enemy of our soul.  All to often I forget he's there.   Most of the time he's quiet, subtle, clever. At times I welcome his presence. Not intentionally of course - but if I'm hone

No Longer Children

Written a few years ago. I've been a mom for almost 24 years now. No one told me the hardest part would be when my children grew up. I remember the sleepless nights of crying babes, the never-ending poop and laundry, the chaotic days of having 4 little ones underfoot. I remember the guilt that I wasn't doing anything right or enough. The moments behind the locked bathroom door with faucet running so no one would hear my sobs.  I remember... The season I find myself in now is strange. With two grown children already gone, two more on the way out the door, a pre-teen, preschooler, and toddler, I now have a different perspective than I did so long ago. Now, when I scoop up those precious little ones my heart aches a bit in knowing the hard part is yet to come. I stand at the sink washing dinner dishes when he hugs me - towers over me. That little boy I used to wrap in my arms now wraps me in his man-sized frame. It's been this way for years, but I never get used to it.

Natural Bakers

These two are precious! Although, I must admit I much prefer her hands in bread dough rather than her being covered from head to toe in Karo syrup. When you hear two young children laughing their heads off - run because they’re into something! Lazy dogs waiting for some crumbs. Until the n... Jessie


When your belly should be swelling with excitement...but your babies lay under blankets of snow. When mothers should be mothers...but you’ve been orphaned for as long as you can remember. When children are torn from family - nothing more than collateral damage. When a loved one sits in a PSYCH Ward - they decided it was all too much. When another you love more than anything won't step off the path of self-destruction. When your child’s heart breaks your own in a way you never imagined. When a "friend” hugs you for all to see, but has taken every opportunity to stab you in the back to climb the ladder of position. When one who doesn’t know you at all, speaks of who you are and who you’re not - despite how wrong they are, you’ll forever be trapped in the box of their perceptions. When you go to get the dogs...only to find your favorite one has died. When in the middle of it all, you’re supposed to make Christmas for your favorite 2 days. When y

I Shall Not Want

Psalm 23 was the first passage of scripture I memorized. I remember I was four, and I had both the honor as well as the terror of reciting it in front of hundreds of pastors. My grandpa had worked with me for countless hours to not only memorize but understand each word. There was one part that no matter how hard I tried I mixed this day I still stumble at the same place. However, that morning staring into the sea of faces every word rolled off my tongue perfectly (Well, except for the fact that I couldn't say Lord so it came out Lerd.). My grandpa was a precious man. I miss him everyday but I still feel him with me. For the things he taught are engraved upon my heart. I feel like God may have given him special insight into all that I would face. Through the dark seasons my heart has been shattered, searching, angry, confused but when God's words come to remembrance they have always breathed life, healing, clarity, and peace. I've taught my children scriptur

Our Sweet Baby

Wednesday, September 5, 2018 at 3:04 a.m. I sit - alone. The earth weeps and so do I. Oh, how my heart aches! August 3, 2016 we cradled your sister, Miriam, in dirt. August 3, 2018 we found out we were having you! For 734 days we prayed for you. No. Begged God for you! He gave us what we ask..but we were not ready to give you back so soon. Your delivery was agonizing and exhausting. Still, I'm grateful to have felt every contraction. Those were the last hours I had with you...the special thing only you and I could share. And in some odd way the physical pain helps my heart make sense of it's pain. When my water broke, I knew losing you was inevitable. I hoped and prayed to deliver you at home but after 8 hours the rapid blood loss sent me into shock. Your dad managed to get me in the car and race to the ER were we spent part of the night. The one place I didn't want to be. Yet, every person we encountered was so kind and compassionate. Every.