Hallylooyer! It's Harvest Time

It is truly a glorious day in Pennsylvania. From my loft window I'm looking down on our frost covered cars, frosty white grass, and a frosted cornfield. But it won't last long. Mr. Sunshine is up and doing his thing, kissing the earth so all things glisten. Patches of steam rise, fog hovers above the browned out cornstalks. And the frost melts away, making for a fabulous day.

Why am I trying to wax eloquent when that's already been done by James Whitcomb Riley, back at the turn of the past century.  Here are the first and last verses of his frosty pumpkin poem. I love the hallelujah of the rooster, and Riley's farmer's wanting to play host to angels. Eloquent I tell you.

When the Frost is on the Punkin

WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then the time a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

 

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!...
I don't know how to tell it-but ef such a thing could be
As the angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me-
I'd want to 'commodate 'em-all the whole-indurin' flock-
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

 

Riley's poem speaks of early morning calls, clucks, and carrying on of farm stock. I, on the other hand, woke to bam, bams of rifles popping off geese and small game, as well as big booms -- muzzle loaders trying for deer. With each bang I hope the critter gets away, at the same time hoping hunters get meat for their family. These are sounds of harvest.

 

Less gruesome though, a massive cornpicker rumbles through our field, and tractors clatter back and forth, up and down our driveway pulling first empty then full wagons of chopped corn home to their own barns. Sounds of harvest. Farmers reaping what they've sown. 

 

They reap what they sow, as do we all. 

 

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

 

And sometimes: Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. Psalm 126:5 Hallelujah!

 

Hallelujah says the rooster, and me,

 on this glorious fall day 

with frost on pumpkins, and fields and wild game ready for harvest.

 

 

With These Rings...

Just over 41years ago Tom put a dainty size 3 1/2 gold wedding band on my finger and I put a more stout gold ring on his. We both promised to love and to cherish, and for the most part we have. You know, except for that day when he was being so selfish, a complete jerk...or wait, was that me? Yeah, pretty sure that was me. Whoever it was on which ever day(s) we got over it and still to this day love and cherish one another almost all the time. And speaking of time -- as the years passed, that size 3 1/2 ring got a little difficult to remove over my, say, 4 1/2 size knuckle. The last time I took my wedding band off, a year or so ago, I did the wise thing and didn't put it back on.

For my birthday, my 60th birthday, (still getting used to that) I got a new wedding band and had my diamond reset. There were so many choices, a wrap, nesting rings, diamond chips in the band or alongside the diamond, white gold, which seems to be more fashionable these days, two bands, one on either side of the diamond ring. I tried on some exquisite looking rings and then asked for something almost just like what I already had. The bands are a bit thicker and the diamond placed in a magical setting that makes it look bigger, but not too big.

 

When I went to pick up my rings, days before my birthday, I loved them. They are just what I wanted, only perhaps more beautiful than I imagined. I was overwhelmed to the point of tears. Yep, I cried. Those poor jewelers, but I'll bet in their line of work, they're used to tears.

 

This lovely, lovely birthday gift is a reminder of a promise two kids made more than 40 years ago. A reminder of promises kept, for richer and poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish.

 

I Corinthians 13:7-8

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends...

 



Cards, Gifts, Flowers...

Either somebody died, sombody is ill, or somebody has a BIG birthday coming up. It's the latter and it's me. 60...oof. Really? There I said it. I've been anticipating this since July when my family had a party for me, which was very kind of them. It sort of helped, being eased into it. They could razz me, and I could laugh, because I knew it wasn't happening...yet. I wasn't 60...yet. We could joke about it as if it weren't a reality, because it wasn't...yet. Still isn't. Two more days to be 59, and then, oh no, oh yes. Please don't...

“Remind me that my days are numbered.” Psalm 39:4

There is only one alternative to turning 60 and that's to not. So you see, birthdays are GOOD for you. The more you have, the longer you live. And it isn't me who calls the shots. It is not me who tells the creator the number of days I wish for my life. My calling and privilege is to praise him for what I have, honor him with who I am, and bring glory to him all the days of my life.

It's a tall order, and I fall short. But as long as he gives me more days I'll keep trying to get it right. Oh how I relate with my boy David's song, Unafraid.

Yes, there are times when I've wanted to be someone else, or just a better version of myself. I've prayed for second chances, and gotten some. I've learned too many things the hard way. And, I am frequently distracted by the part of me that never got it right. But...

I don't want to look back on my life and wish that it was different...

 

I just want to give all that I am

To the One who gave

All that he was

All for us.

 

I'm not gonna be scared of what may come

Or what may not

I'm gonna be unafraid.

 

Unafraid of turning 60. Unafraid of the unknowns. Unafraid of what's been done, what's been overlooked, left undone, all that is yet to be done. Well aware that my days are numbered, I want what I do to count...but I don't have to live this life like it's the only one I've got.

The song says, "I wanna go dancing in the rain." I'm not much of a dancer, but the other morning I went swimming in the rain...about 55 degrees outside, 82 in the water, raindrops making bubbles all around me. I'm not sure there is anything more delightful.

David Henning's CD The Beginning of You can be purchased or downloaded http://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=847726005­717

A Few of My Favorite Things

Psalm 71:14

As for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.
              
Along with beautiful rainbows (see previous post) I have some other favorite things...

 

Fall flowers (especially bouquets from my hubby), colorful leaves,  kitty cats, babies, children, sunny days, my home, family, friends, good husbands (I only have one, but I know there are other good husbands out there...not as good as mine, but still), green grass, my pool, friends to share the pool with, walks, a cozy bed, a cup of coffee (first thing in the morning, or later in the day while talking on the phone with a good friend, a sister, a daughter-in-law, or over dessert with company), books, music, the Bible (as I read it and hear God's voice, not necessarily the way others interpret it), people, and the Creator of all -- these, in no particular order, are a few of my favorite things.

 

At this moment they are. 

 

 

 Then I look at this picture and I'm reminded -- my bright dining room with big windows, an abstract painting from an artist friend, a dry sink (that belonged to my husband's mother) laden with sentimental gifts from friends and family, an antique butter churn (always loved that butter churn), and through the windows I see my big back porch -- these are all high on the list, just a few of my favorite things.

 

Looking outside to see deer browsing in the front field, squirrels chasing, rabbits hopping -- those too, are a few of my favorite things.

 

 

I haven't scratched the surface, but this list did the trick. As long as I have breath to praise God, I will always have hope. And, as long as I have hope, I will praise Him... more and more.

Hope and a Promise

 

 

Rainbows paint the sky beautiful in the midst or aftermath of storms. Don't you just love those colorful arcs? Signs of hope and a promise since the days of Noah:

"I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life." Genesis 9:13-15

Hope. To look forward to with confidence, great expectation. If we lose hope we've lost our way. So don't lose hope. Hang on to hope. There is... Always Hope

To the beaten and broken, to the callused and bruised,

To the one who's crying silently inside,

To the helpless and hurting, to the lost and confused,

To the one who's searching for the meaning of life...

 

There is an answer. There is a Father, a love like no other. There is a God...

...There is hope in the One who promises, we are never alone.

 

From David's CD The Beginning of You

 

I play that song over and over again when I need a reminder. There are challenges, upheavals, difficult circumstances and difficult people in everyone's life at one time or another. But, until we take our last breath, there is always hope.

 

I'm taking this as our very own sign of promise...

 

 

And guess what? The sun will probably come out tomorrow.

 

 



No Rest for the...

Uncle Billy from Jan Karon's Mitford Series says, "No rest for the wicked, and the righteous don't need none." Not sure which category I fall under, but we've been busy here at the farm. And I'm not one to deprive myself of rest, a quick power nap or a refreshing swim.

Saturday Tom and I stormed the barn, working alongside a fellow who is going to paint the inside of the lower level. First the old (perhaps 75 year old!) whitewashing has to be scraped off and the clutter has to be busted. Leaving him to the paint prep, we pitched junk, organized, cleaned up and cleared out all day long. Meanwhile a mason is patching and pointing up the stone foundation -- another huge project.

The rush of accomplishing so much on Saturday inspired me to clutter bust the house with gusto on Monday and Tuesday. Closets, pantry, cupboards...whew... I've got a big collection for Salvation Army.

But it's not that much fun to be indoors while these last days of summer (less than 20 by the calendar) wane.  From where I sit typing I see the shadows growing long, dahlias, mums, and black-eyed susans dot the landscape with color, lush grass, vibrant in the sunshine, and I can tell by the leaves of the trees there is a slight breeze. I need to get out there...

Still to do... the pool will have to be closed, but not just yet. Christmas tree fields need more attention, a bit more shearing, mowing, weeding, and fertilizing. When the leaves fall, oh dear, there's another big job. Other jobs I can't wait to tear into: the upper level of the barn, the old milkhouse that I want to turn into a bathhouse for pool guests, and the old cow barn, which is begging for a makeover. Wicked or righteous, I'm making myself weary just thinking about all there is to do. So I'm off right now to simply do the next thing. There will be a reward in it -- a canoe ride on the creek this evening to help a good friend celebrate her birthday.

 

 

Later that day...

You know you're getting old when -- we were all too tired for the effort of a canoe ride. The birthday girl opted for dinner out at the lovely Riverside Inn of Cambridge Springs instead. Followed by an evening swim. Ahhhhh, restful, refreshing and ready to face another day.

 



Lord, Make Us Intsruments of Your Peace

A prayer by Jena Lee Nardella, of the Blood Water Mission:

God, I stand before You and ask that the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing unto You.

I pray for our President, Barack Obama. May he know Your presence, oh God, as he continues to serve as a leader of this nation, as a husband to Michelle, and as father to his daughters. Help him to seek justice, love mercy and walk humbly with you.

I pray as well for Governor Mitt Romney. May he know Your presence, oh God, as he continues to serve as a leader, as a husband to Ann, and as a father to his sons and their families. Help him to seek justice, love mercy and walk humbly with you.

I pray for our country in the next nine weeks leading up to this election – for those of us meeting here and for our fellow citizens who met last week. May we make our children proud of how we conduct ourselves. We know our human tendencies toward finger-pointing and frivolousness. Our better selves want this race to be honest and edifying rather than fabricated and self-serving.

Give us, oh Lord, humility to listen to our sisters and brothers across the political spectrum, because your kingdom is not divided into Red States and Blue States. Equip us with moral imagination to have real discourse. Knit us, oh God, as one country even as we wrestle over the complexity of how we ought to live and govern. Give us gratitude for our right to dissent and disagree. For we know that we are bound up in one another and have been given the tremendous opportunity to extend humanity and grace when others voice their deeply held convictions even when they differ from our own.

And give us wisdom, God, to discover honest solutions for we know it will take all of us to care for the widow and the orphan, the sick and the lonely, the downtrodden and the unemployed, the prisoner and the homeless, the stranger and the enemy, the thirsty and the powerless. In rural Africa, I am witness to thousands of HIV positive mothers, fathers and children who are alive today because Democrats and Republicans put justice and mercy above partisanship. Help us keep that perspective even as we debate one another.

God, I thank you for the saving grace of Jesus and for the saints who have humbly gone before us. I thank you for the words of St. Francis of Assisi whose prayer I carry with me both in my home in East Nashville and in my work across rural Africa.

As we enter this election season, I pray St. Francis’ words for us all.

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.

Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen
 

This was recited at the Democratic National Convention. It is beautiful, just beautiful.

Gotta Love Erma Bombeck

Keeping with the theme of my previous post on writing, really, you've got to love Erma Bombeck, gone from this world way too soon. She entertained, enlightened, and exhorted. She made us laugh and cry, knowingly nod, and then sheepishly hanging our head in shame. And gosh, she handed out some valuable advice. It was the very wise and witty Erma who said, "There's nothing to writing. You just sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

That thought affirms what the wise guy said, whoever he or she be, which I posted last week: Writing is easy. All you have to do is just start writing, finish writing, and make sure it's good.

What the reader, and wannabe writer, needs to extrapolate here is the sarcasm. There is nothing easy about writing. First of all, you have to do it. That entails this: sit down, tune out the rest of the world, turn a deaf ear to all of your obligations and responsibilities for hours upon hours, focus, focus, focus, and let your life blood flow. Then, after making a mess -- what with blood everywhere -- you have to clean it up, hide most of it away where no eye will ever see. Then, hope against hope for a little leftover, publishable snippet, which will look to the reader like it took 15 minutes to produce. Yeah, it's easy, simple as that.

Writing is fun and oh, so rewarding. After all that work, I'm talking blood, sweat and tears, you have something you're pleased to have someone else read. If that someone laughs or cries or is moved in an intended way, you did your job and you did it well. There in lies the reward. And getting paid real money makes it all the better, wink, wink.

Writing is not all torture. Occasionally I laugh. I laugh at myself and I laugh at my own jokes, because yes, you can tell yourself a joke you never heard before. Ask my brother, Scott Bruce, the comedian, his livelihood depends on it. And he's done the Bruce name proud. He has even given me some opportunity for success in the writing field. All sibling rivalry aside, bless his heart.

It looks to me like I began, and this is a fine place to end. Whether the writing is good or not is yet to be determined. However, this is not at all what I was going to blog about today. I was going to tell of how lucky and blessed my life is. The 28th day of August marked our 41st wedding anniversary. Tom and I have a lovely home (albeit, it's been years getting that way -- which only adds to the richness of our relationship and the wonder of its survival), an idyllic and private space, green in spring and summer, mulitcolored in fall, which is fast approaching and pure white in winter on days the snow isn't dirty, opportunities for wildlife viewing abound, and French Creek runs through it. This is our sanctuary these days, and we are more than grateful for all we have. If I have no inspiration for writing it can not be blamed on location, location, location.

Yeah, I know!

Writing is easy: All you have to do is start writing,

finish writing,

and make sure it's good.

 

***???***

 

Yeah, I know. So why do I make a big deal out of it? That's all I have to say... today.

Snapshots of Summer

As if there aren't enough...

In July, Aaron's installation service at the Christian and Missionary Alliance Church in State College

 



At the end of July, the Henning reunion here at the farm

Flowers just past their peak...

 

And the people...

shucking corn

 

Eating inside and on the porch in light of the drizzle/downpour

 

 

 

Swimming

And of course there were tractor rides and fishing, campfire times and all manner of fun!

 

And finally the cleaning up and relaxing...and watching olympics. Yay team USA!