Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. -Romans 8:26 ESV
Recently at church we talked about standing up for Christ. About sharing the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ with our friends, family, acquaintances, and everyone else that we may come in contact with. After one particular service I shared with Jeremy on our way home that I have no idea how to share Jesus. Which kinda seems weird since I grew up in a culture where going out on missions and sharing our beliefs was totally normal. But I'm just not really that person. I mean I have shared my beliefs with friends and family but I'm just not the type that strikes up a random conversation with someone I don't really know and tells them all about Jesus and my faith in Him. I know that as Christians we are supposed to share Him and I want everyone to know about him and have the opportunity to accept him as their Lord and Savior but I want that to happen without me having to stretch out and feel uncomfortable and share Him with others. in my perfect world I would wear a button kind of like retail workers sometimes wear and it would say "Ask me about Jesus and how you can accept Him as your Lord and Savior!" Because I really don't mind sharing Jesus but I don't like the idea of bringing the topic up. If someone would ask me outright about my beliefs I am happy to share. But that isn't what we are called to do. We aren't called to sit in our comfort zone and share Him only with those who actively seek information about Jesus. We are called to go out to everyone, stretch ourselves in ways that we don't feel like being stretched, be uncomfortable at times, and make sure that when someone meets us they ultimately meet Jesus.
But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth. -Acts 1:8 ESV
Since I told Jeremy about my lack of confidence in sharing Jesus with others I started really thinking about what I could do to be a "better Christian." I wanted to find a way to make myself comfortable with sharing Jesus. I wanted to "feel better" about myself and feel like I was doing everything I could to share Jesus. But lets be honest here, growth is painful. It isn't easy to become a better person and it can't just happen. But I really didn't have any idea how I would stretch myself. The only thing I could come up with was just forcing myself to walk up to random people and ask, "Excuse me, do you know where you will go when this life is over? Would you like to know more about Jesus and how you can be saved by His grace?" And starting to ask this question as a habit every time I meet a new person just didn't seem right, nor did it seem like anything I would ever actually do. But recently I have been thinking about the few blogs I have written about my faith and I started having this thought in the back of my head that blogging is how I was supposed to share Jesus Christ. I was supposed to share Him, His message, and His Gospel through our blog. And every time this thought popped into my head I immediately would think to myself that it was a ridiculous thought and I would immediately dismiss it. But as I was praying a few nights ago the thought came very strongly to me that I needed to blog about Jesus. And as strong as the feeling was I still wasn't ready to accept it. Blogging about Jesus just seems weird to me. Jesus who lived such a simple, humble life, travelling town to town by foot, a carpenter who's apostles were fishermen, a man who shared His Gospel through parables and on hillsides would never want little old me to share him in a virtual world. But the next morning while I prayed I couldn't deny that my recent prayers to have the courage to find a way to share Jesus were being answered and even if the answer wasn't what I thought it would or should be it was none the less God's answer to my prayer.
So here I am. Writing my first blog since being prompted by the spirit to share Jesus by writing about Him and His teachings. And I want to be very clear here. I am not confident in my Bible knowledge. I do not think I am even sort of knowledgeable when it comes to the teachings of Jesus. Every time we go to church I learn something new. When I read the bible I constantly come across things that I don't understand. But I am putting my faith in God trusting that if it is His will for me to share my faith through a blog that He will give me the messages he wants me to share and he will speak through my fingers. I plan to share a weekly "devotional" here on our blog and will also continue to blog about our family and any other random things that strike me.
If you do not have the desire to read my Christian posts I am totally ok with that. I hope that the messages I share will reach those who are searching for faith but I realize that not everyone is open to my beliefs or cares to hear my thoughts on faith. When I share my blogs I will try to post in such a way that people will know if the posts are a devotional or something of a different nature. But if I don't share that information and you open my blog and realize you don't want to hear what I have to say close the window and move on. If you feel so inclined feel free to share by blog with others. And please bear with me as I attempt to follow the promptings of the spirit and share my faith in Jesus because right now I am very unsure of this but I know that starting this blog is an answer to my prayers and God has a purpose for me and this new adventure.
Friday, March 4, 2016
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Not everyone was made for toe shoes
From the age of four until the age of 18 I took dance lessons. I took ballet, tap, and some clogging. And I was fairly good at clogging and tap. In fact I really loved tap dancing and at one point in my life had hoped to audition at Radio City. But for most little girls that take dancing classes I dreamed of being a beautiful ballerina. And I am kind of built for that, long, skinny (at least back when I was dancing) and mostly leg. But here is the problem. I am not a super graceful coordinated person. I can't tell you how many times we would be working on leaps across the dance studio and my dance teacher would have to tell me that ballerinas should not sound like elephants.
I put my heart into my dancing and I really loved it. And for the most part I went through my dance classes with the same group of girls. We all just moved up together. And in that group what we all looked forward to was our seventh grade year because that was the year that we would be able to get toe shoes. And really what kind of ballerina doesn't wear toe shoes?
So the anticipated time arrived and we were talked to about toe shoes. We were educated that there were certain qualifications we had to meet before we could get our toe shoes. You may have seen a meme on Facebook showing a ballerinas feet and saying something about the sacrifices because toe shoes are very hard on your feet. And really your legs, knees and hips. Our bodies just weren't made to wear toe shoes. The teacher I took dance classes from was older and believed that you needed to be physically ready for toe shoes in order to increase your chances of safely and successfully dancing. So we were presented with the physical tasks that we would have to complete in order to qualify for toes shoes. That first year only half of the class was able to qualify and the other half of us although bummed were ok because we knew we would qualify the next year.
The next year came and more girls qualified for toe shoes, but not me. Because I'm so tall and had grown so fast my joints just didn't have the stability that they needed to have for toe shoes. According to my teacher I was a sprained ankle waiting to happen. And to get to the point of this story I never got to wear toe shoes. And it was pretty devistating. And at one point my teacher told me that being in flat shoes wasn't so bad because I made a good "base dancer" and that was an important roll as well. But here is what I heard as a 16 year old girl, "You don't have the skills to be a real ballerina but that's ok because your big and do a great job in the same position that is usually filled by male ballet dancers." It just wasn't what I wanted to hear.
I know all of that seems probably random and dumb but I really do have a point here. Proverbs 3:5-7 reads,
"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the Lord, and depart from evil."
Recently at church we have been discussing Gods plan and what Jesus, in the Gospels, is asking us to do in order to be his disciples. And as we were discussing the fact that we have to give up our plans and our desires and dedicate ourselves to His plan for us the above information came to my mind in the way that it relates to my life right now.
And there is more to my dancing analogy. Because I was never going to get my toe shoes I chose to put a lot more dedication into my tapping. Like I said earlier I even had aspirations to audition at Radio City. I told my parents about it and I told my dance teacher. They were all supportive. My dance teacher started helping me to work on specific things I would need in order to make this dream a possibility. And then the summer before my senior year my mom helped me find information about auditions so that I could start preparing to audition the following summer. And that is when my balloon burst. Due to the nature of the Rocketts they have specific physical requirements one of which is a height limit. At the time that I was wanting to try out you had to be between 5'7" and 5'10" (I think it was 5'7", I wasn't super concerned about the bottom height). I am 6' tall and all in a matter of minutes there was my other dancing desire gone out the window.
And now I will tie this all together. God is like our dance teacher. He knows what we need and He knows where we need to go in this life. He won't force us to follow the path He has set for us. That is a choice we have to make. If we really want to wear those toe shoes He isn't going to stop us, but He also isn't going to prevent any sprained knees or broken ankles that we get as a result of our choice. When we chose to sin and stray from His Word there will always be consequences. At the same time when we follow Him and strive to live a Christ like life that does not mean that we will receive what we want or that our way will be easy. In fact we know that following Jesus is not easy. There are many many references in the Bible that affirm that struggles and persecution are par for the course in the life of Jesus' followers. But ultimately God has a great plan for our lives.
I am in no way anywhere near the place that I would be in this life if I were the one making the plans and receiving the desires of my heart. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined my life being where it is now. But I LOVE where I am now. Well, mostly. I still wish that God would have answered some of my prayers in a different manner. I still pray for things that I desire even though up to this point those desires have not been met in the slightest. But as I count my blessings and reflect on where I've been and where I am now I cannot deny that I am more blessed than I deserve. I have had wonderful opportunities in my life and even when I wasn't trying to follow God he still saved me from situations that could have been disastrous even though I thought those were the things I wanted. I wanted the "toe shoes" and the title "Rockett" but God knew that I was a much better "base". And He has put me in a place now where although my prayers are not being answered the the way I would like, I am receiving answers to prayer that I never even considered.
So although we may be striving for the toe shoes God knows what our most beautiful dance will look like.
Saturday, January 9, 2016
"Just" a Christian
***Please read my whole post or none of it. Please don't read a few sentences and make a judgement. This is a very thought out, personal, emotional post for me. I know it will take the whole thing to really get my point across.***
In the past several years, but mainly in the past 3 years, I have done tons of spiritual searching, learning, and changing. I don't ever remember a time in my life where I wasn't very spiritually directed. And since I was 13 or 14 I have also, for a majority of the years between that age and about two years ago, been very spiritually confused, unhappy, and unsure. I believe that spiritualism is different for each person and cannot be defined in a generalized way. I had a friend in high school that I would describe as very spiritual with a strong connection to his higher power. I would guess though that if you asked most people that we went to high school with they would say that he probably didn't have a spiritual side at all. And I attribute this to the cultural idea of what spiritualism should look like. And to be overly stereotypical it should look like a clean cut young man wearing a suit and tie sitting in the front corner pew with about eight other guys that look just like him.
At many times in my life, especially during high school and then again right after graduating from college, I feel that I fell into the cookie cutter idea of spiritual. I was in the Beehive presidency, the Miamaid presidency, and the Laurels presidency (I was president a couple of times, counselor multiple times and I think secretary twice.) Now if you are not familiar with the LDS church these are all positions that can be held by a young woman in the Sunday School system for girls 12-18. I remember being in church related meetings with comments somewhat jokingly made about what a strong spirit I had and that I was a Relief Society president in the making. In fact at one time in our meetings it was normal for other teenagers in the meeting to refer to me as President Samantha and a friend of mine as Future Bishop (name withheld to protect the innocent). Because of the area I grew up in most of my friends were LDS and being a "good LDS kid" was "cool". And even though I had questions and doubts I didn't really entertain any of the doubts because everybody went to church on Sunday, everybody was in Seminary, all of my friends talked about which temple they wanted to get married in, and all my friends made the "what I want in my future husband lists" as part of Young Women's activities and they included traits like returned missionary, eagle scout, honors his priesthood. I found one of these lists that I made recently and a few of the traits I wrote down included "has a mustache", "rides horses", and "wants a whole lot of kids". I sat in Young Women's classes where leaders would say things such as "You need to decide now that you want to get married in the temple. Decide now that you will only marry a man that can take you to the temple and be a priesthood leader in your home." But you want to know a secret? Even at 14 or 15 I would sit there and think to myself that I didn't understand why it was such a big deal. Sure temple marriage seemed important and would of course be nice but in my mind it wasn't a must. I surly didn't care if I married a returned missionary or even a worthy priesthood holder. I remember a particular Sunday where a baby was blessed. The parents of the baby were not active members and the babies grandfather was the one who blessed him. After the blessing the young mother stood to bear her testimony and stated how grateful she was to have a dad that could bless her baby. The after church conversation included "how sad" it was that this woman had to be thankful that her dad could bless the baby because it "should have been" the babies father performing the blessing. And I'm fairly certain there was a comment about this being one of the reasons that it is so important for my sisters and I to look for "worthy" mates. But I remember telling my mom that I could see me being just like this young mother from church. "I don't think it would be so bad to be thankful that dad could bless my babies. My husband doesn't have to be able to do it." I'm sure that comment made my mom freak out on the inside, and probably on the outside a little bit too. The point is that this wasn't a weird thought for me. I didn't see the importance in following all the rules of the church and having the picture perfect LDS life complete with primary calling, 5 kids and a Suburban. I wanted my relationship with God as being slightly different. The problem though became that I was living in a world where I didn't really get the idea that having a "slightly different" relationship with God was possible.
When I was in college I began exploring spiritual options. And I explored some very diverse options. I attended several different denominational services including Catholic where I'm fairly certain I almost got my friend and I kicked out after leaning over to him and whispering "stand up, sit down, fight fight fight" with his response being a fairly loud snort and giggle. I attended a Lutheran service, I looked into Native American spiritual practices, attempted some yoga/mindfulness techniques to connect to the spiritual world, and attended a Methodist service. Long story short I did not feel spiritually fulfilled in the LDS church and I was sure there was something I was missing. Sadly I ended up resigning myself to the idea that because of my sins I could not feel spiritually fulfilled. I actually thought that I had screwed up so much that Jesus would never be able to fully love me. I tried reading the scriptures to become more connected and to build my faith but honestly it never helped. I didn't understand most of the bible and the Book of Mormon didn't make much sense either.
So I graduated from college and got my first "real" job. I had no friends there so I went to church because I figured a ward (more specifically a Relief Society) is just 20 or so pre-made friends. And I really thought that I could use the "fake it till you make it" approach to my spiritual life and relationship with God. And I tried this approach for several years.
Since we have move to Blackfoot in 2012 I wasn't attending any churches. And I will be honest with you I had more or less given up. I hadn't actively attended the LDS church in over a year. I had attended a few services in Wyoming and a few here but I didn't find anything where I felt that I had any better of a spiritual experience than I could have sitting on my couch at home watching an uplifting movie. I know this sounds pretty bad but that was where I had settled spiritually. After having church leaders tell me that I was being punished for mistakes I had made and having one leader tell me that I would never find spiritual happiness if I was married to Jeremy I had pretty much given up. I knew I could not associate myself with a church that believed that Jesus would take away blessings just because I had made some mistakes but I also couldn't find any other churches where I felt any love from Jesus. So I gave up.
Now enter Jeremy's job. He started working at Cal-Ranch shortly after we moved here. So one day this guy comes in and needs help finding a new water trough for his horses. Jeremy being the good employee and social butterfly that he is he helped this gentleman with his need and struck up a conversation. They discussed that this gentleman (who I now know as Pastor Dave) and his wife had recently moved to this area from a Carolina (I feel really bad but I can't remember which one). Jeremy told him that we had recently come here from Wyoming. Then he asked Pastor Dave what brought him and his wife to Idaho. He told Jeremy that he was a pastor and they had come out here to help plant cowboy churches. Knowing that I wanted to find a church Jeremy got more info.
He called me on his lunch, gave me the info, and told me that I was invited to attend church that night at 1900. And on a whim I went. And I liked it. There was a great message and some really good country gospel music like my Grandpa Al enjoys.
But here's the thing. I still had that issue with not being sure if Jesus even liked me. So it was quite a while before I ever went back.
I'm gonna skip a whole lot of the middle at this point. But the story is a good one. Because eventually Jeremy and I started going to cowboy church services together and we started attending fairly regularly. We were baptized as followers of Christ on October 4th of 2014. Our baptisms took place at an arena and we were baptized in a horse trough, by Pastor Dave, which I think is very fitting. And I am happy to say that although I have so much room to grow, I have a personal relationship with my Savior Lord Jesus that is better then my relationship with Him has ever been. And Jeremy and I are consistently working to have a marriage that is more centered on God and Christ like love for each other.
But the point of all this (and I was much longer winded then I intended to be) is that I am a Christian. I am not a Mormon, or a Baptist, or a Catholic, or anything specifically denominational. But I am a Christian, I am one of Gods children. And being one of His children, and being part of the family of Christ is everything. It (should and usually does) define me and the decisions I make. Being a follower of Christ helps to form the decisions I make, the actions I take, and the way I conduct myself. But I tell people that I am "just" a Christian because even though being a Christian is at the core of who I am I want people to know that Christ is my Savior and I follow him and where I worship and who I worship with is not the pivot point of my faith.
For my friends who do identify themselves with a specific religion no matter what that religion is I think that is great and I have no problem with denomination specific faith. For me the "religion" part of my faith isn't important but I respect that for many people it is important and it strengthens them spiritually and bolsters their faith, and I think that is great. I don't have a problem with any religion and this is not meant to be taken in that way. This is my faith story, this is something that has been on my heart recently and something that I felt I needed to get written down and share.
In the past several years, but mainly in the past 3 years, I have done tons of spiritual searching, learning, and changing. I don't ever remember a time in my life where I wasn't very spiritually directed. And since I was 13 or 14 I have also, for a majority of the years between that age and about two years ago, been very spiritually confused, unhappy, and unsure. I believe that spiritualism is different for each person and cannot be defined in a generalized way. I had a friend in high school that I would describe as very spiritual with a strong connection to his higher power. I would guess though that if you asked most people that we went to high school with they would say that he probably didn't have a spiritual side at all. And I attribute this to the cultural idea of what spiritualism should look like. And to be overly stereotypical it should look like a clean cut young man wearing a suit and tie sitting in the front corner pew with about eight other guys that look just like him.
At many times in my life, especially during high school and then again right after graduating from college, I feel that I fell into the cookie cutter idea of spiritual. I was in the Beehive presidency, the Miamaid presidency, and the Laurels presidency (I was president a couple of times, counselor multiple times and I think secretary twice.) Now if you are not familiar with the LDS church these are all positions that can be held by a young woman in the Sunday School system for girls 12-18. I remember being in church related meetings with comments somewhat jokingly made about what a strong spirit I had and that I was a Relief Society president in the making. In fact at one time in our meetings it was normal for other teenagers in the meeting to refer to me as President Samantha and a friend of mine as Future Bishop (name withheld to protect the innocent). Because of the area I grew up in most of my friends were LDS and being a "good LDS kid" was "cool". And even though I had questions and doubts I didn't really entertain any of the doubts because everybody went to church on Sunday, everybody was in Seminary, all of my friends talked about which temple they wanted to get married in, and all my friends made the "what I want in my future husband lists" as part of Young Women's activities and they included traits like returned missionary, eagle scout, honors his priesthood. I found one of these lists that I made recently and a few of the traits I wrote down included "has a mustache", "rides horses", and "wants a whole lot of kids". I sat in Young Women's classes where leaders would say things such as "You need to decide now that you want to get married in the temple. Decide now that you will only marry a man that can take you to the temple and be a priesthood leader in your home." But you want to know a secret? Even at 14 or 15 I would sit there and think to myself that I didn't understand why it was such a big deal. Sure temple marriage seemed important and would of course be nice but in my mind it wasn't a must. I surly didn't care if I married a returned missionary or even a worthy priesthood holder. I remember a particular Sunday where a baby was blessed. The parents of the baby were not active members and the babies grandfather was the one who blessed him. After the blessing the young mother stood to bear her testimony and stated how grateful she was to have a dad that could bless her baby. The after church conversation included "how sad" it was that this woman had to be thankful that her dad could bless the baby because it "should have been" the babies father performing the blessing. And I'm fairly certain there was a comment about this being one of the reasons that it is so important for my sisters and I to look for "worthy" mates. But I remember telling my mom that I could see me being just like this young mother from church. "I don't think it would be so bad to be thankful that dad could bless my babies. My husband doesn't have to be able to do it." I'm sure that comment made my mom freak out on the inside, and probably on the outside a little bit too. The point is that this wasn't a weird thought for me. I didn't see the importance in following all the rules of the church and having the picture perfect LDS life complete with primary calling, 5 kids and a Suburban. I wanted my relationship with God as being slightly different. The problem though became that I was living in a world where I didn't really get the idea that having a "slightly different" relationship with God was possible.
When I was in college I began exploring spiritual options. And I explored some very diverse options. I attended several different denominational services including Catholic where I'm fairly certain I almost got my friend and I kicked out after leaning over to him and whispering "stand up, sit down, fight fight fight" with his response being a fairly loud snort and giggle. I attended a Lutheran service, I looked into Native American spiritual practices, attempted some yoga/mindfulness techniques to connect to the spiritual world, and attended a Methodist service. Long story short I did not feel spiritually fulfilled in the LDS church and I was sure there was something I was missing. Sadly I ended up resigning myself to the idea that because of my sins I could not feel spiritually fulfilled. I actually thought that I had screwed up so much that Jesus would never be able to fully love me. I tried reading the scriptures to become more connected and to build my faith but honestly it never helped. I didn't understand most of the bible and the Book of Mormon didn't make much sense either.
So I graduated from college and got my first "real" job. I had no friends there so I went to church because I figured a ward (more specifically a Relief Society) is just 20 or so pre-made friends. And I really thought that I could use the "fake it till you make it" approach to my spiritual life and relationship with God. And I tried this approach for several years.
Since we have move to Blackfoot in 2012 I wasn't attending any churches. And I will be honest with you I had more or less given up. I hadn't actively attended the LDS church in over a year. I had attended a few services in Wyoming and a few here but I didn't find anything where I felt that I had any better of a spiritual experience than I could have sitting on my couch at home watching an uplifting movie. I know this sounds pretty bad but that was where I had settled spiritually. After having church leaders tell me that I was being punished for mistakes I had made and having one leader tell me that I would never find spiritual happiness if I was married to Jeremy I had pretty much given up. I knew I could not associate myself with a church that believed that Jesus would take away blessings just because I had made some mistakes but I also couldn't find any other churches where I felt any love from Jesus. So I gave up.
Now enter Jeremy's job. He started working at Cal-Ranch shortly after we moved here. So one day this guy comes in and needs help finding a new water trough for his horses. Jeremy being the good employee and social butterfly that he is he helped this gentleman with his need and struck up a conversation. They discussed that this gentleman (who I now know as Pastor Dave) and his wife had recently moved to this area from a Carolina (I feel really bad but I can't remember which one). Jeremy told him that we had recently come here from Wyoming. Then he asked Pastor Dave what brought him and his wife to Idaho. He told Jeremy that he was a pastor and they had come out here to help plant cowboy churches. Knowing that I wanted to find a church Jeremy got more info.
He called me on his lunch, gave me the info, and told me that I was invited to attend church that night at 1900. And on a whim I went. And I liked it. There was a great message and some really good country gospel music like my Grandpa Al enjoys.
But here's the thing. I still had that issue with not being sure if Jesus even liked me. So it was quite a while before I ever went back.
I'm gonna skip a whole lot of the middle at this point. But the story is a good one. Because eventually Jeremy and I started going to cowboy church services together and we started attending fairly regularly. We were baptized as followers of Christ on October 4th of 2014. Our baptisms took place at an arena and we were baptized in a horse trough, by Pastor Dave, which I think is very fitting. And I am happy to say that although I have so much room to grow, I have a personal relationship with my Savior Lord Jesus that is better then my relationship with Him has ever been. And Jeremy and I are consistently working to have a marriage that is more centered on God and Christ like love for each other.
But the point of all this (and I was much longer winded then I intended to be) is that I am a Christian. I am not a Mormon, or a Baptist, or a Catholic, or anything specifically denominational. But I am a Christian, I am one of Gods children. And being one of His children, and being part of the family of Christ is everything. It (should and usually does) define me and the decisions I make. Being a follower of Christ helps to form the decisions I make, the actions I take, and the way I conduct myself. But I tell people that I am "just" a Christian because even though being a Christian is at the core of who I am I want people to know that Christ is my Savior and I follow him and where I worship and who I worship with is not the pivot point of my faith.
For my friends who do identify themselves with a specific religion no matter what that religion is I think that is great and I have no problem with denomination specific faith. For me the "religion" part of my faith isn't important but I respect that for many people it is important and it strengthens them spiritually and bolsters their faith, and I think that is great. I don't have a problem with any religion and this is not meant to be taken in that way. This is my faith story, this is something that has been on my heart recently and something that I felt I needed to get written down and share.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Farming, Feminism, and my dad
So I started this blog in early June but decided it needed to be finished today. I'm a little behind but that's pretty typical.
It is early June. We have had plenty of rain. The grass and hay in the field are knee high. So that means its time to cut a first crop. Now of course, since today was a good day to cut hay and there is supposedly a fairly low chance of rain in the next few days and the swather we are using gets bogged down if the hay gets too thick, I am alone at home and Jeremy is in Utah for work. However I have an awesome dad who is willing to inconvenience himself in order to help us out. So dad and I cut hay this evening.
The swather that we use is old. Like probably at least 10 years older than Jeremy. Currently a very large wrench is required for steering, one of the belts just quits whenever it feels like it, and apparently red does not indicate a live wire. But to give it a little credit the swather started right up and ran like a champ.
So I grew up around farming. My dad grew up on a dairy farm, my moms grandparents had hay and sheep, and a lot of my friends were farm kids. I understand how important water is. I also understand that the difference between a good year and a bad year is mostly in Gods hands. At church we are always praying for moisture. Most of the people at church are tied to agriculture in one way or another so we pray for rain and thank God when we get it. However, now that I am older and we have a hay field in our back yard which supplies us with all the hay we need for our goats, I am gaining a much better understanding of just how stressful farming can be. (and yes for anyone out there trying to be argumentative I realize that 4 acres of hay is not a real farm...but if you ask the insurance company it is a "hobby farm".) I am inclined to think of the Luke Bryan song "Rain is a Good Thing" when I think of farming. But it turns out that that is only sort of true. Rain is great. Rain makes things grow. Rain also makes mud and mold. And that is a problem. You can't cut hay if its wet, or if the field is too muddy, and once you cut hay you needs some awesome sun shiny days to dry that hay out and get it baled.
We finished swathing tonight just as a great big thunder head started to roll in. The good news is that it produced very little rain. And the other great part of tonight was spending time with my dad. He's a pretty awesome guy in my opinion. And I kind of felt like a little girl tonight. Riding along on the tractor with my dad, him teaching me all sorts of things about swathing, driving, when to move the header, how to turn without wrecking...all sorts of useful information. When the weather started to look bad dad asked me if I wanted him to drop me off at the top of the field so I could go into the hours. First of all I wasn't about to let me dad do all of the work that I was supposed to be doing and secondly and most important of all I was with my dad. I'm an adult now and getting one on one time with my dad just to chat doesn't really happen not to mention I haven't got to do farm work with my dad since I was 16 and I was really enjoying it.
Now feminism doesn't have much to do with my dad but it does tie in to a frequent discussion that Jeremy and I have. I see lots of posts from women all the time about how they are strong and independent and do not need a man. And for anyone who knows me I tend to be that way. I like to describe myself as a feminist hippie living in the wrong era. But its not quite true. When I see the posts like this from women I agree. I don't NEED Jeremy just because hes a man and I'm a woman. I can do it for myself. My dad could have opened up the field, given me a swather driving crash course and he then could have just gone home. I would have been fine. Not as fast but fine. I can haul hay, I milk every morning, I have a good career and could support myself. But that isn't the point. So many of the posts I see mention things about needing a man who understands that he is not "needed". A man who can "handle" a strong woman. But here's the thing. I could survive without Jeremy and he could survive without me. But he is my best friend and the love of my life. And sometimes when tough jobs need to be accomplished I am more that happy for him to help me. Because I do need him. I need him to love me, deal with me when I am stubborn and refuse help, and to jump in and help when I fail without giving me the "I told you so" routine.
I am a strong independent woman but that doesn't me I have to drive men away but telling them they are not needed. How would you feel if someone told you that you weren't needed? I don't think it's anyone's dream to be in a relationship where they are disposable. And that is how I perceive all those dumb posts. Strong women want disposable men.
But I don't want a disposable man. And he is needed and I do appreciate him. Even when I know that I can do it without him. When all was said and done and the hay was cut and drying I was so very thankful that Jeremy would be home in time to bale it. And when that time came I helped. I went on multiple parts runs, I brought out water and I even rode on the tractor for a while. And I am more than OK with that role.
But if Jeremy is gone next year when the hay needs to be baled you can bet I will do it. Because I don't need a man but I have an awesome wonderful man and I know that do the harder things for me is how he shows me that he loves me.
It is early June. We have had plenty of rain. The grass and hay in the field are knee high. So that means its time to cut a first crop. Now of course, since today was a good day to cut hay and there is supposedly a fairly low chance of rain in the next few days and the swather we are using gets bogged down if the hay gets too thick, I am alone at home and Jeremy is in Utah for work. However I have an awesome dad who is willing to inconvenience himself in order to help us out. So dad and I cut hay this evening.
The swather that we use is old. Like probably at least 10 years older than Jeremy. Currently a very large wrench is required for steering, one of the belts just quits whenever it feels like it, and apparently red does not indicate a live wire. But to give it a little credit the swather started right up and ran like a champ.
So I grew up around farming. My dad grew up on a dairy farm, my moms grandparents had hay and sheep, and a lot of my friends were farm kids. I understand how important water is. I also understand that the difference between a good year and a bad year is mostly in Gods hands. At church we are always praying for moisture. Most of the people at church are tied to agriculture in one way or another so we pray for rain and thank God when we get it. However, now that I am older and we have a hay field in our back yard which supplies us with all the hay we need for our goats, I am gaining a much better understanding of just how stressful farming can be. (and yes for anyone out there trying to be argumentative I realize that 4 acres of hay is not a real farm...but if you ask the insurance company it is a "hobby farm".) I am inclined to think of the Luke Bryan song "Rain is a Good Thing" when I think of farming. But it turns out that that is only sort of true. Rain is great. Rain makes things grow. Rain also makes mud and mold. And that is a problem. You can't cut hay if its wet, or if the field is too muddy, and once you cut hay you needs some awesome sun shiny days to dry that hay out and get it baled.
We finished swathing tonight just as a great big thunder head started to roll in. The good news is that it produced very little rain. And the other great part of tonight was spending time with my dad. He's a pretty awesome guy in my opinion. And I kind of felt like a little girl tonight. Riding along on the tractor with my dad, him teaching me all sorts of things about swathing, driving, when to move the header, how to turn without wrecking...all sorts of useful information. When the weather started to look bad dad asked me if I wanted him to drop me off at the top of the field so I could go into the hours. First of all I wasn't about to let me dad do all of the work that I was supposed to be doing and secondly and most important of all I was with my dad. I'm an adult now and getting one on one time with my dad just to chat doesn't really happen not to mention I haven't got to do farm work with my dad since I was 16 and I was really enjoying it.
Now feminism doesn't have much to do with my dad but it does tie in to a frequent discussion that Jeremy and I have. I see lots of posts from women all the time about how they are strong and independent and do not need a man. And for anyone who knows me I tend to be that way. I like to describe myself as a feminist hippie living in the wrong era. But its not quite true. When I see the posts like this from women I agree. I don't NEED Jeremy just because hes a man and I'm a woman. I can do it for myself. My dad could have opened up the field, given me a swather driving crash course and he then could have just gone home. I would have been fine. Not as fast but fine. I can haul hay, I milk every morning, I have a good career and could support myself. But that isn't the point. So many of the posts I see mention things about needing a man who understands that he is not "needed". A man who can "handle" a strong woman. But here's the thing. I could survive without Jeremy and he could survive without me. But he is my best friend and the love of my life. And sometimes when tough jobs need to be accomplished I am more that happy for him to help me. Because I do need him. I need him to love me, deal with me when I am stubborn and refuse help, and to jump in and help when I fail without giving me the "I told you so" routine.
I am a strong independent woman but that doesn't me I have to drive men away but telling them they are not needed. How would you feel if someone told you that you weren't needed? I don't think it's anyone's dream to be in a relationship where they are disposable. And that is how I perceive all those dumb posts. Strong women want disposable men.
But I don't want a disposable man. And he is needed and I do appreciate him. Even when I know that I can do it without him. When all was said and done and the hay was cut and drying I was so very thankful that Jeremy would be home in time to bale it. And when that time came I helped. I went on multiple parts runs, I brought out water and I even rode on the tractor for a while. And I am more than OK with that role.
But if Jeremy is gone next year when the hay needs to be baled you can bet I will do it. Because I don't need a man but I have an awesome wonderful man and I know that do the harder things for me is how he shows me that he loves me.
Friday, March 14, 2014
Sorrow and Joy
Last Sunday was a big day here at the Hill farm. Daisy, one of our goats, started showing signs of labor on Saturday afternoon. So we spent a long night checking on her and waiting for babies. Well...nothing happened. So on Sunday we went out to the shop to work on a project Jeremy had for work. We checked her several times as she was definitely in active labor at this point. Just before 1130 we abandoned our work in the shop and went to assist Daisy. Her first kid was born breach and still born. It was heart braking to see that little tiny body limp and lifeless. The best we can figure was that he had been dead for a while because he was much smaller and very stinky. However within seconds she was pushing out the face of another kid and to our absolute elation the little nose was twitching and sniffing. This kid was born in just minutes (maybe even quicker). We worked with her to get him cleaned off but he just did not want to stand and he was shivering a lot. So we brought him in the house and milked her quickly so he could get some colostrum as soon as possible. Once he was completely dry and warm he stood up and was a perky little goat kid. He was quickly moved out to the shop in the kid pen (but not before he peed on my shower mat).
For the first few feedings the little guy, who has now been named Oberon (explanation to follow), needed help latching onto the bottle and we had to hold his head still so he wouldn't pull off the nipple. Now though he just latches right on and is drinking lots and lots of milk. He is much cuter then the below picture shows. He didn't want to hold still for his photo shoot so its a little blurry but just know that he is SO ADORABLE in real life.
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For the first few feedings the little guy, who has now been named Oberon (explanation to follow), needed help latching onto the bottle and we had to hold his head still so he wouldn't pull off the nipple. Now though he just latches right on and is drinking lots and lots of milk. He is much cuter then the below picture shows. He didn't want to hold still for his photo shoot so its a little blurry but just know that he is SO ADORABLE in real life.
This is little Oberon after his first feeding when he was literally minutes old.
So most of you are probably wondering about his name. You may know that his daddy is named Romeo. So we decided to follow suit and use names from Shakespeare. So who knows which play Oberon comes from? Anyone? Well as much as I would love to keep you guessing I feel that it wouldn't be nice. So, Oberon is the king of the fairies in A Midsummer Night's Dream. This is a play that I loved in high school so it was the first play I thought to look at for choosing names. I am not sure if we will be holding with the Shakespeare theme for the girls since both of our current girls have cutesy names but we have a couple of weeks to decide and even then who knows, we might get both boys again. We are hoping for two does from Cocoa but who knows.
So even though we were totally heart broken that we don't have two little boys to show off in this blog but we appreciate this happy healthy baby so much and we love his little kisses and his little noises and as soon as his mom's milk is usable we will have wonderful yummy milk to drink and make cheese with! (I will blog later about our plans for this years milk)
Monday, March 3, 2014
Changes
Oh how life changes. After much prayer and pondering our lives are in for a change. I have decided that although I love and will miss Camp Hippo, I am going to take a new job. I will be working with adults again, mostly older adults, in a post acute rehab center in Idaho Falls. It was a difficult decision to leave my wonderful coworkers and the kids that I have come to love so much. However this change is something that we feel will be a good change for me and us as a couple. I will be working day shifts with rotating days off.
I am excited for the new adventure but at the same time I am very nervous. I know that good things are coming for us though no matter what happens.
Other changes in our lives include the impending arrival of baby goats. Daisy is due any time now, in fact she is overdue. Cocoa isn't due until the end of the month but once the first set of babies come and we get back to milking the month is going to fly by and the babies will be here before we know it! We bought a buck of our own this fall. His name is Romeo. He has gorgeous coloring and our Daisy is so pretty, we are hoping for beautiful babies from them! I have no idea what to expect from Cocoas babies but am anxious to find out what they will look like as well.
We are planning on expanding our horizons in relation to our goats. I have been doing lots of research on goat milk products like soap, lotion, body butter, lip balm, sugar scrub...the list is long and very exciting. We are also working on getting our milk certified so that we can sell milk and food products made from the milk. Even though we aren't certified I am planning on trying new cheese for family use. I'm really wanting to make Mozzarella which I think I will be ordering the necessary ingredients for that just as soon as we have enough milk.
Well, I will post more and I get settled into my job and I will definitely post baby pictures once they arrive.
I am excited for the new adventure but at the same time I am very nervous. I know that good things are coming for us though no matter what happens.
Other changes in our lives include the impending arrival of baby goats. Daisy is due any time now, in fact she is overdue. Cocoa isn't due until the end of the month but once the first set of babies come and we get back to milking the month is going to fly by and the babies will be here before we know it! We bought a buck of our own this fall. His name is Romeo. He has gorgeous coloring and our Daisy is so pretty, we are hoping for beautiful babies from them! I have no idea what to expect from Cocoas babies but am anxious to find out what they will look like as well.
We are planning on expanding our horizons in relation to our goats. I have been doing lots of research on goat milk products like soap, lotion, body butter, lip balm, sugar scrub...the list is long and very exciting. We are also working on getting our milk certified so that we can sell milk and food products made from the milk. Even though we aren't certified I am planning on trying new cheese for family use. I'm really wanting to make Mozzarella which I think I will be ordering the necessary ingredients for that just as soon as we have enough milk.
Well, I will post more and I get settled into my job and I will definitely post baby pictures once they arrive.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
God Has a Plan
When I was growing up I used to sing a song in church that has been in my head all day. The words that are really sticking with me are:
"My life is a gift, my life has a plan, my life has a purpose in Heaven it began."
My life has a plan. How often do we forget that in Heaven a plan was set out for us. God knows where were going and how we are going to get there. Sometimes we don't like his plan. I have often found myself wondering why he won't just listen to me and my plan. Because in my infinite wisdom I must know better then God does.
I recently have been going through things in life that have made me wonder what God's plan is for Jeremy and I and why it can't be more like my plan for us. It seems so simple to me. There are things that I want for us and I think that God should give them to me just because I want them.
But now I have stepped out of my selfishness for just a minute and analyzed my thoughts. I have seen many children, and even some adults who's parents gave them everything. They didn't work for what they had, they were never told no as children and usually they aren't my favorite people. They don't understand the value of the things they have. They don't know the sadness of not getting what you want. They don't know the joy of getting something even better after you've struggled for it. They do not know the joy of patiently waiting in order to get a wonderful gift because it has always been given to them as soon as they ask.
Wait. Did I really just say that waiting patiently is joyful? I hope I am not alone in saying that it often is not joyful for me. Waiting is hard and I rarely do it patiently. But so many in the Bible have had to wait and when they did so great things came to them. Hebrews 6:13-15 says so beautifully that God will deliver upon his promises to us. He will carry out great things in our lives if we wait patiently.
Here is the hard part for me to deal with. Just because we wait patiently doesn't mean we will get the things we want. But we will get the things God has in store for us. Which, even though we may not know the reason for these things they are exactly what we need in our lives.
I have prayed to God for things that I feel are realistic blessings to ask for. Have I received these things? Some of them yes, many of them no. Do I still pray for them? Yes I do. Has not having those prayers answered in the way I want them to be been hard on me? Very. I hate to admit this but it has gone as far as to shake my faith. But by having my faith shaken, broken down in a way, God is now able to build me up to be what he wants me to be. He is able to use me in the way that He has always planned.
Ephesians 2:10 states "For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them."
That is so powerful to me. God's plan for me is ordained in Heaven. How awesome is that. I am created for good works, to be used by God.
I still don't know what God's plan for us is. I probably never will in this life. But I know that part of the plan is for us to grow in our faith of him, to do all we can to be Christ like examples, to be the best Christians we can be. I know that I have been given so much love to share with others. I don't know all of the ways that I am to share this love nor do I know how this love is affecting or will affect the lives of others. But I know that God has a plan and He is using me to build his kingdom. And I am proud to be a daughter of the King!
"My life is a gift, my life has a plan, my life has a purpose in Heaven it began."
My life has a plan. How often do we forget that in Heaven a plan was set out for us. God knows where were going and how we are going to get there. Sometimes we don't like his plan. I have often found myself wondering why he won't just listen to me and my plan. Because in my infinite wisdom I must know better then God does.
I recently have been going through things in life that have made me wonder what God's plan is for Jeremy and I and why it can't be more like my plan for us. It seems so simple to me. There are things that I want for us and I think that God should give them to me just because I want them.
But now I have stepped out of my selfishness for just a minute and analyzed my thoughts. I have seen many children, and even some adults who's parents gave them everything. They didn't work for what they had, they were never told no as children and usually they aren't my favorite people. They don't understand the value of the things they have. They don't know the sadness of not getting what you want. They don't know the joy of getting something even better after you've struggled for it. They do not know the joy of patiently waiting in order to get a wonderful gift because it has always been given to them as soon as they ask.
Wait. Did I really just say that waiting patiently is joyful? I hope I am not alone in saying that it often is not joyful for me. Waiting is hard and I rarely do it patiently. But so many in the Bible have had to wait and when they did so great things came to them. Hebrews 6:13-15 says so beautifully that God will deliver upon his promises to us. He will carry out great things in our lives if we wait patiently.
Here is the hard part for me to deal with. Just because we wait patiently doesn't mean we will get the things we want. But we will get the things God has in store for us. Which, even though we may not know the reason for these things they are exactly what we need in our lives.
I have prayed to God for things that I feel are realistic blessings to ask for. Have I received these things? Some of them yes, many of them no. Do I still pray for them? Yes I do. Has not having those prayers answered in the way I want them to be been hard on me? Very. I hate to admit this but it has gone as far as to shake my faith. But by having my faith shaken, broken down in a way, God is now able to build me up to be what he wants me to be. He is able to use me in the way that He has always planned.
Ephesians 2:10 states "For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them."
That is so powerful to me. God's plan for me is ordained in Heaven. How awesome is that. I am created for good works, to be used by God.
I still don't know what God's plan for us is. I probably never will in this life. But I know that part of the plan is for us to grow in our faith of him, to do all we can to be Christ like examples, to be the best Christians we can be. I know that I have been given so much love to share with others. I don't know all of the ways that I am to share this love nor do I know how this love is affecting or will affect the lives of others. But I know that God has a plan and He is using me to build his kingdom. And I am proud to be a daughter of the King!
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