What a countryside weekend!
Tom and I visited Becker Farms and fed baby goats, patted a horse's head and ate ice cream at a picnic bench where I finished reading Just Shy of Harmony (adored that book).
We also drove to yard sales, but bought nothing which is wonderful since this next weekend will find us hosting our own yard sale along with Naomi. Oh, I am feeling ruthless! Especially after having watched the hoarding lady for the third time on Oprah. Wow.
We picnicked again beside the cemetery where Tom's ggggg-grandfather is buried (how amazing to move to New York from Nevada and find him here!). We walked over to the grave and amongst others, many with people born in the 1700's, and thought our own thoughts and shared some, also.
We attended our local county fair and in the sunshine and breezes visited chickens, bunnies, cows, horses and pigs. We spoke with our neighbors, Rich and Bev, at the classic car show and picked our favorite car --a red and white 1957 Corvette. So very Paul Drake-ish (you know, from Perry Mason).
Tom and I sat at an outdoor table with our hamburgers and cherry pie and listened to a mid-50's guy sing quite good country karaoke. I felt teary-eyed sitting there, surrounded by other people, and it was one of those times God whispered to me, "Know why you're feeling blessed? That person is doing exactly what I've called him to do. He's using the talent I gave him."
I love it when that happens.
Another weekend to remember. We've had so very many.
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My longtime readers will remember the little book cabin in the middle of nowhere (Childs, NY) made from a 1909 voting booth.
You know, the place Tom and I drive through the countryside to visit sometimes. Well, actually, he sits in the car and reads the local paper from the shop next door while I peruse the shelves. I'm nearly always the only person inside the silent, dusty cabin.
On Monday we drove out there again, first time this year perhaps, and my eyes bulged when I beheld the boxes of un-put-away books upon the floor. I dived into them and found five books, smiling like a Cheshire cat. Then when I stepped to the metal can in which to place my quarters--hardback books are 50 cents--suddenly the Holy Spirit whispered, "Put in $5, instead."
I started to argue, "But that's double of what I owe," and then I stopped. When God tells me to do a thing, I know by now that it's useless to give Him excuses. Or to try to change His mind. So I dropped in the $5 bill, stepped outside of the cabin and felt terrific.
Sounds like such a tiny thing, I realize that. But you know? I don't believe obedience to God is ever small. Obedience always matters, that is, if we want to grow.
It's an awful thing to be stuck in disobedience. We too often want what we think we want and that's what trips us into dark ditches of sadness.
God says, "Forgive that person for hurting your feelings," and we tell Him ten reasons why we shouldn't have to do that. Or He whispers, "Leave some of your beliefs behind," and we gasp and say, "But I've always believed those things!"
He tells us, until we do or give-up this one thing, He can take us no deeper in faith, in ministry, in peace of mind, and we think, "You certainly can't be serious, can you?"
All those no's to God add up. They add up to no growth, no change and no happiness.
Today, let's all say yes! And then see what lovely things, happen.
***
Here are the books I found at the cabin:
Just Shy of Harmony by Philip Gulley
Family Ties That Bind and Gag by Erma Bombeck
Seeds of Contemplation by Thomas Merton
I Grew Up Little by Patsy Clairmont
And a book about the Southwest for Tom
Those first four books are perfect for this time in my life. Just perfect.
****
A young friend of mine at Facebook wrote something like:
"I hate housework! Hate it. Hate it. Hate it."
Uh-oh. Housework is a Fact of Life. Well, unless you're wealthy and can hire help for it all or if your spouse does your cleaning for you. But for most of us, hey, it's there. The floor that gets dirty, the dishes in the sink, the laundry, vacuuming, beds which need to be made, the cooking, the--
That's a whole lot of stuff to hate! Besides, hating anything (or anyone) zaps energy which could be put into work or creativity, instead.
So what to do?
Teach ourselves to enjoy housework--and create some lovely rituals.
I put dishes into soak, light a candle, turn on the radio. Then I might feed the birds, sit down inside or on the patio and read a few pages of a good book.
Then I wash a few dishes, put some others in to soak (I store dirty dishes in the dishwasher whose handle is currently broken, not that I used it that often before), do some dusting, then return to my book. Or check my email or blog.
Then I might put in a load of laundry, finish the dishes and sit and watch a few minutes of Oprah. Make dinner during the commercials. Or bring in tomatoes from the garden, peek at the new growth or pull a handful of weeds.
I try to mow the lawn in the early morning while it's cool. I water my plants on Mondays and Thursdays and have special days for vacuuming, too. And always there are my books, the computer, the tv and times for staring out the window as my rewards for completing my tasks. Coffee and toast and lunch breaks, also.
So many rewards to anticipate.
What's there to hate about housework done that way? I'll tell you what I hate-- I hate it when I look at housework like a necessary evil and leave it all until it becomes a cluttered, grimy, out-of-control mess. It's then I must attack that mess while kicking myself for not keeping it under control sooner.
So much of our lives involves cleaning and organizing our homes. Why not enjoy that time?
Why not seek ways to make it go faster, easier (realizing the less we own, the less time we must spend caring for our stuff)?
Most anything in Life can be made distasteful. Most anything can be made enjoyable.
*****
"Attitude, attitude, attitude."
Want to read a fun autobiography? I'm just now finishing Patsy Clairmont's delightful, I Grew Up Little. Highly recommended.
*****
To the kind soul who left a nice comment which is not showing up at my last post, please forgive me. It was early, 4:45, and I accidentally hit delete instead of publish. Gah! That's what I get for approving comments all bleary-eyed in the morning.
*****
