When Company Is Coming

Of course, when we're acting a tad crazy while preparing for company, good friends tell us, "Don't worry. They're coming to see you, not your house." And they're sweet and mean well and we appreciate their trying to calm us. Really we do.

But yet? That's one of those old sayings which doesn't ring quite true for me, especially when your soon-arriving friends told you they're coming to see you and your new farm (emphasis mine). Especially when you've poured decades of your best creative hours into decorating your home, have sweated buckets out in your yard, and the whole picture has become a reflection of the inside of you.


And especially when you so enjoy inspiring others to return home and rearrange some furniture or paint their walls the outrageous, fun color they've always meant to.


I think we who always have decorating on our minds just can't believe--or don't wish to believe--that our visitors just want to see us and won't even care about the surroundings we've poured our souls into.


These are my thoughts as I prepare for our upcoming visit with Galen and Donna from Nevada, two dear friends who will visit us for the first time in our 18 New York years. Donna's and Galen's hospitality and sense of color and style has always inspired me and I find myself wanting to return the favor, to delight them both with the whole down-on-the-farm-experience thing.


And you know? God has told me that is fine--as long as I keep it at that level. You know, to delight our friends, to give them an experience here on our place (and out and about Western New York) that they'll always remember.


But, He tells me (often, because I keep forgetting), it's not ok to go crazy-stressed-out-of-my-brain-overboard. You know, by attempting to finish every single incomplete project around here in two short weeks. And even thinking about impressing our friends is way, way out of line (He says). Killing myself by cleaning everything to a perfect shine is sooo not permissible, either and neither is trying to make this house, this yard and myself something we all are not.


It's about balance, true. But I believe it's about something deeper, even, for those of us who decorate with our whole hearts. It's about being real and who we are today, yet allowing these impending visits to stretch us, to make ourselves (and our homes) better. To give us a little push in what we've procrastinated cleaning or redecorating for sometime, yes, but to also flick us into deeper realms of wanting to inspire and care for others' needs much more than we hope to hear accolades from them.

In other words, may I see all upcoming visits as an opportunity to make our house and yard better, and my heart, kinder, and more servant-minded so our visitors will drive away feeling renewed, inspired, rested and very glad they came.



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"Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves." ... Romans 12:10



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"Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality." ... Romans 12:13

Springtime Morning

Ahhh... springtime down on the farm this misty, moisty morning.

And now you'll have to excuse me because when I opened the window to take that photo, I got a huge whiff of the beyond-belief spring air outside (and the sound of birdsong, as well). So I'm off to get dressed so I can go outside, alas, with my umbrella for it's raining again. (Big surprise.)

Oh, but if you're wondering how I feel about the death of Osama bin Laden, Sara wrote down all my thoughts here. (Thanks, Sara, for saving me some time this morning and for saying it all better than I could have, anyway.)

The Scent of Campfires

It only took me 2 years and 11 months before I made a campfire in our yard.

Oh my. I've found my new favorite thing.

I sat beside the fire and gazed all around at the grey-barked forest with its slightest hints of green and the soaked lawns surrounding me with their battle-like look, what with all the downed branches from Friday's winds. I listened to children's echoes from across the street, then pauses and country silences while I sloshed around the grass and gathered more downed branches to snap! then toss into the fire. And felt so very Mary Jane Butters.

Tom came and sat beside me for maybe 7 minutes then returned to his basketball game on tv and though I wished he would have stayed longer (hey, we only spend 16/7 together), still I loved the aloneness, too. To enjoy oneself when she's by herself is a Good Thing. To enjoy God when one is alone is even better.

But you know? Campfire scent and smoke bring everybody out, I think. I sat there and saw the times Tom, Naomi and I went camping, sitting around fires during Idaho nights with that been-swimming feeling and feelings, too, that nowhere--nowhere!--could there be a better place, a better family. And as those pictures fade, along came my grandparents and visions of all the backyard gatherings I shared with those sweet people. More pictures, more folks from my past, my present, all there within the warmth of the golden flames.

I can just hear myself at our next gathering with strangers and others. Someone will ask, "So Debra, what do you do?"

"I'm a farmgirl. Oh, and I make campfires."

And then I'll smile my most mysterious smile with memories dancing inside my eyes.

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