September 3, 2010 by Debbie.

 It has been such a glorious day here at Beulah Land and it’s only 1:20. For the first time since May, I have the windows open and the air conditioning off. I even had to shut the back door because I got COLD. Do you know how glorious it is to feel cold after continuous 100+ degree days? And it rained yesterday and the day before - we got 2 inches per the goat feed bucket. Happy Days are Here Again! Actually, they never left.

I couldn’t waste the first day with the windows open so I baked 2 loafs of banana bread, made some Taco Soup for John to take in to a work luncheon, and put a kettle of bean soup on for our own supper. Laundry is flapping on the line. The wind is blowing all the wrinkles out and the fresh clean air is freshening it. I love it when nature does my work. It’s a wonderful day to be a house wife.

Here’s some of the quilts I’ve made recently.

I really like the back of the Cowboys quilt-

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August 13, 2010 by Debbie.

Every time I clean an onion my mind flashes back to an old memory. When we lived in Columbus, Ohio about 30 years ago our neighbor’s husband had just left her. She was a stay at home mom and found herself desperately trying to provide for herself and her two young children, one who was very disabled. Insensitively, one day I called and asked if I could borrow an onion from her. She didn’t even pause before saying yes, and said she’d even bring it over. When she brought the ‘onion’ it turned out to be small pieces of the inside of onions that had sprouted - you know, the small green onion that will form if onions are kept too long. That was all she’d had left from her past onion supply but she had saved them, chopped them and had them ready in a bag for use. She brought ALL of her present onions, which also represented her foreseeable future onions as she had no income for any more.  She said she believed she’d have more onions when that bag ran out, she just didn’t know how.  Rather than offend her I took a small portion of her onions - pieces of onions I previously would have composted with no thought of actually using them.

So every time I clean an onion, my heart still hurts for what she went through.

Our onion supply from last winter’s planting is nearing it’s end. I sorted through the bucket to weed out any onion that had started to rot. Our onion crop this year was not as big as past years, partially due to not planting as many but largely due to lack of sun in the rainy winter and early spring. As I sorted, I didn’t give any thought to the ‘is this big enough to keep?’ question.  No onion was too small to not keep, not after seeing that bag of onion pieces through my memory’s eyes.

I’ve been thinking lately a lot about faith.  Sometimes I want big faith - like saving the whole city of Sherman. And sometimes in wanting the big faith I overlook the ONE person who wants and needs God. So right now, I’m asking God for just one person, or one family, to come to Him. No onion too small faith.

By the way, that neighbor’s husband never came back to her. Never regularly paid child support, and never saw their disabled child again. The neighbor lost her home but held on to her children. She later happily remarried, and hopefully had a whole kitchen full of onions!

Small onions ready to grill - that’s a butter knife handle beside them for sizing.

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August 3, 2010 by Debbie.

This past Sunday, our pastor encouraged all of us, as a church body, to read Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire by Jim Cymbala.  So I started reading it Sunday afternoon. Mostly it reminds me of the parable of the sower and the good soil. Remember there were 4 types of soil, each responding to the seed differently. It wasn’t a seed problem, but a soil problem that either caused crop production or failure.

I’ve been lazy these last couple of years. Honestly, I was just wore out. For several years John worked full + time and finished his degree on the side as well as kept Beulah Land, Inc. (a home based business) going. I know he was more exhausted than I during those two years but after he graduated it was normal for me to continue carrying the same load without even realizing it.  So my physical body is just now recuperating from the past several years of overuse.

I see the same thing in my garden soils. I had one temporary garden that was used just for one winter and one spring - not an extensive time period, yet I can see how the soil level has dropped 1 to 2 inches from the surrounding ground soil level. It’s amazing how much soil was used up for just 6 months of garden use. The soil that started out as ‘good soil’ is now depleted not only of nutrients but of tilth and  is growing weeds instead of healthy grass as it reverts back to yard.

Why do we expect less from our souls and spirits? Do we expect to be classified once and for all as ‘good soil’ with no continued soil amendments? I don’t think it works that way any more than my temporary garden spot did. Keeping good soil is just plain work. Boring work at times. Back breaking work at times. Hot and frustrating work at times. But there’s also joyous work at times. Nothing is more encouraging than working in the dirt in the coolness of a spring morning. Nothing is more exciting than harvesting that first crisp cucumber or ripe juicy tomato. Then all that grueling work is worthwhile and no amount of money could buy that first glorious crop - no wonder God asked the Israelites for  the first fruits of their labor!

As we’re spending more time and a lot more money on rejuvenating Beulah Land, I’m seeing the spiritual applications - first the natural, then the spiritual. Among other things, I’m learning I can’t do it alone. Below is a picture of a fantastic worker, John N., who gives up his day off to help me clear a goat pasture.

He did a good job, huh?!

And here’s the turkeys and chicks at almost 3 months old. The turkeys are so amazing to me. Their legs are like stilts they’re so long. They’re the most curious of birds, pecking to check out the buckles on my sandals each time I step in their area. I’ve already name one of them Thanksgiving and one Christmas. They’re of the Dinner linage.They are churning the goats’ bedding into rich compost that will help feed next year’s gardens.

Evening sunset finds me tired but not as worn out as a year ago. We’re starting to reap the benefit of giving back to the land, being better stewards of what God has loaned us. Last night John and I actually sat on the porch swing and saw a sunset together. Been too long.

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July 21, 2010 by Debbie.

If you haven’t seen Betsy’s new babies, look at the post below this one also but do NOT skip this one!

This is copied from Prayer Connect enewsletter/prayer list. It is EXCELLENT. Nothing is changed, not even formatting.

*************************

A Season, a Time and a Word

Season
- an indefinite period of time

Time - a
measured or measurable period

Word - a
brief remark or conversation

Would it
ever end? I was certain I felt myself aging. There I was, waiting for it
to be over and waiting for the Lord to return - wondering which would
happen first.  The place? Prayer meeting!

I was
seven. At that time, prayer was probably around number 208 on my list of
priorities. I mean, after all God already knew our needs. He also
already knew the future. So in my highly educated and intelligent
seven-year-old mind, no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t
understand. If God knew what we needed and knew what we were going to
ask for when we prayed, then locking ourselves in the church for what
seemed to be an endless period of time to tell God what He already knew,
seemed to me like a great big waste of time.

You see,
during those days over thirty years ago, the saints met frequently for
what they called a “season” of prayer. In the little church where I
grew up in Green Pond, Alabama, they were serious about it. They met
with the intent and purpose to pray until something happened. If it took
30 minutes, fine. If it took five hours, that was fine too.

Jump forward
a few years and more and more you began to hear the phrase “a time of
prayer.” Oh yes, make no mistake, there was still prayer meeting - it
just didn’t last quite as long. No more meeting to pray until you hear
from heaven, now we were more on a time schedule. Okay God, you have
from 7:00 - 8:00 PM on Monday night to show up, or we’ll have to catch
you next week. A “season” had somehow evolved to “a time.”

Jump forward
a few more years to our fast paced, push-button society where we’ve
become accustomed to getting everything in a hurry. No more taking days
or weeks to travel across country by horse or train admiring the beauty
of the landscape that God created. Now we get on a plane and in two
hours or less we can get 1,000 miles in any direction. No more taking
hours to thaw something. Just pop it in the microwave and the same
result is accomplished in mere minutes.

Wouldn’t you
know it? The church has also progressed. How many times in your local
service or at larger events do we pause now to have a “word” of prayer?

How
interesting. We have gone from a season, to a time, to a word. To borrow
wisdom from Webster’s dictionary, it would seem we have gone from “an
indefinite period of prayer, to a measured or measurable period of
prayer, to a brief remark or conversation with God.”

It would
almost seem that with all of our computers, gadgets and modern-day
conveniences to help us save time, we have gotten so busy that we have
almost phased prayer out completely. Makes me wonder about scriptures
like:

1 Thessalonians 5:17, the Apostle Paul tells believers to “pray without
ceasing.”

Luke 21:36 -
Watch ye therefore, and pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to
escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before
the son of man.

While I know
that we can’t pray non-stop due to work schedules and the need for
sleep, but speaking for myself, I could definitely dedicate more time to
prayer. There are times when all we have time to do is utter a “word”
of prayer. Other times our schedule may be a little more flexible,
allowing us to devote a little “time” to prayer. But let us not forget
that periodically, we must not neglect having a “season” of prayer. No
matter how busy, periodically we must give ourselves to an extended
period of seeking God. We need that - He does too!

I was at a
church last week and someone told the congregation to just “breathe a
prayer.”

I wonder
what will be next. God help us!

Lisa Marshall
Strategic Prayer Coordinator
World Network of Prayer

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July 19, 2010 by Debbie.

Betsy decided to kid on Sat. night and she did an excellent job of it. Within an hour, she presented us with a beautiful black buckling and a brown doeling. That was an hour after serious kidding started. She’d been in light labor most of the day; restless, up and down, starry-eyed glares off into the distance when a contraction would come on her, refusing her feed - the most tell-tale sign of a goat in some type of stress.

Betsy is one of the best momma goats, just like her momma before her. She gets the babies cleaned off in record time and up to nurse in an amazingly short time with no thought to her own body. These pictures are within an hour of kidding.

After I found a rat snake while mowing, John and I went snake hunting. There’s an area by the side of the house where vinca grows, making a nice cool area for the guinea to lay eggs and nest. We figured there would be at least one rat snake in there.  John shot two large rat snakes after clearing the ground cover with a weed-eater. I made him pose with one of his trophies before he threw it in the pasture for the varmints to eat.

It was an eventful weekend, busy and productive as well. Today I spent the whole morning cleaning up outside with a worker. John N. is young and strong so I did a lot of point and direct after my 50+ year old energy ran out. I did some mowing while John N. cleaned out the chicken coop to make ready for the new chicks and turkeys who are quickly outgrowing the pasture poultry cages. Their heads will touch the 2 foot high ceiling soon. John N. and I built a new raised bed area with the chicken coop cleanings - it won’t be used for awhile so the bedding will have time to decompose.  Then John N. attacked the pool herb bed area with a cotton hoe. I can barely lift the hoe let alone try to swing it to chop a bramble down. John N. also weed-whacked some very over grown areas; our goal was to remove any snake vacation spots.

Frankly, even a 2 hour nap hasn’t revived me. I’m tempted to down a pot of real coffee, but I know I’d be up all night as a result. I think, instead,  we’ll just have scrambled eggs and fruit for supper and I’ll start fresh (hopefully) again tomorrow!

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July 10, 2010 by Debbie.

The pool is prime attraction in a hot Texas summer!

Avery’s really into the pool - she even went down the slide with her Momma, Tiffany.

Maggie is seldom without a book (wonder where she got that from??) . Grandpa is fascinated with her Super Sudoku book.

Of course, GrandDog Lilly came up to ‘the farm,’ too!

A trip to the barn!

Maggie (granddaughter), Debbie (daughter), and John, Jr. (son)

Scottie on the new ‘horse’ swing!

I finally finished the quilt I’d intended for Tom Himelick’s  S. Georgia Farm Workers’ Project quilt - done too late. If you look closely at all the hand quilting you’ll know why! We titled it “Celebrate America’s Farm Workers.”

I kind of got carried away with hand quilting the log cabin blocks but I enjoyed doing them so much I hated to stop.

Hope you’re enjoying your summer relaxing as much as we are!

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July 5, 2010 by Debbie.

The last half of June and this first part of July have not adhered to the normal Texas dry weather. Yes, it was definitely hot in June, hitting 102 for one day, but the last part of the month brought unusual rains that have held on for this first part of July. With the rains in July, our temps actually dropped to the 90’s. Humidity made it feel higher than 90’s but still not bad for July in Texas! The pastures needed the rains badly. I noticed I’ll have to watch carefully when I let the does in the old garden area pasture again as that grass is lush and green - which can cause deadly bloat, which we sadly found out by experience in May.

The turkeys are growing so fast it’s amazing to me. At 3 weeks old the tom turkeys were learning how to strut their stuff, dropping their wings and drawing their neck to their chest as their tail feathers fanned out like the Pilgrim pictures in our school books. It looked so funny on a 10 inch tall turkey - miniature turkeys in my mind. It appears we have 6 hens and 2 toms out of the flock I ordered. Two of the 10 died - one scared to death when I mowed too close to the pasture poultry pen. BUT I will say, they do know enough to get out of the rain!

Our first snake of the year was curled up in the corner of the turkey/chicken pasture poultry coup. He’s dead.

The house painters were delayed with 4 afternoons of rain but the job is finally finished! It is such a relief to have such a big job finished. They even worked around my huge bush on the side of the house, although I did get some kidding about them cutting it down or they couldn’t finish the job. My reply was, “That’s OK. If you can’t finish, I can’t pay you!” The job is done nicely, isn’t it?!

I’m enjoying making some  baby quilts for a new (to me) charity, Hope Resource Center.  Hope Resource Center is an crisis pregnancy ministry that provides alternatives to abortion. It’s located in McKinney, TX.

The 9 Patch quilt is really brighter than it looks. I used 1930’s reproduction fabrics. The other one is for those babies who want to monkey around.

Well, time and laundry waits for no man (or woman), so I’d better go get busy and put the wet laundry on the line. Rain is due in again this afternoon.

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June 15, 2010 by Debbie.

Hang in with me here, I’ll get past the nostalgia I’m feeling and tell you about the weekend towards the end of this post.

Last week I heard an old song titled “Eighties Ladies.” That tells you how old it is - it’s talking about 1980 ladies not ladies in their 80s. Hopefully, the link will work and you can see and hear it on youtube by K T Oslin, who has just the right voice for it. I don’t know why it has stuck with me but it has. I sat at the kitchen table this morning, listening to it and crying softly. I seldom cry in front of John. I know, Ladies, I know. Crying is suppose to get girls/women all they want. That’s why I don’t cry in front of John. I don’t want things that way. Yet today I did cry with the song. John couldn’t even hear the words to the song so he didn’t really know what was going on - how could he when I didn’t myself? But he stood beside me, with his hand on my shoulder and that was enough.

Now, on to the title of this post, Mixed Signals. Smokey, one of John’s cats, has been outside the back door just waiting and watching for someone (John!) to come out but I’m the one who is in and out in the mornings so she’ll settle for me. She meows and lays down just until I can almost touch her and then she runs a few feet away. She so badly wants someone to touch her but can’t seem to feel safe enough to let them.

I couldn’t help but think how many people are like that - sending the mixed signal of touch me, my life, my heart, but just before the touch, they run for the security of the known, even if it’s loneliness or disconnection. There are times my hands are full and I can’t reach down to pet Smokey; there are times I’m too busy to pursue her past the initial time; there are times I just plain ignore her completely, engrossed in my own life.  I wonder how many times have I done the same with people?

I’m asking God to help me read through the mixed signals and to push through the initial rejection. Even I don’t like rejection most of the time but I shouldn’t let it stop me nor should I always take it personally. Maybe instead I can follow the person back to their safe area instead of expecting them to meet me in my safe area.

Now, on to this past weekend! It was a good conclusion to two weeks of intense work. By Friday I was all spent out. John hosted the Men’s Retreat here at Beulah Land and we worked doing major spring cleaning to get ready. No, we didn’t have to do everything we did but I love a good deadline to force clean out and spruce up chores.

I spent the weekend at a friend’s and came home in the mornings to milk and see my animals and smell/see/feel country  as the friend’s house was in town.  John handled everything here, including nighttime feedings, wonderfully. From what I heard the guys had a great time, ending with a sunrise service including communion on Sunday morning. They started at 6:00 am and were still going when I got here at 8:00.  The men came and went over the weekend as jobs and lives dictated but there were 11 men here at one time. Below are a few pictures of the event.

Favorite pass time - eating!

The guys spent time outside swimming in the pool, training tarantulas to stay out of the living areas, playing horseshoes and washoes as seen below. The younger set (aka ones who could stay up later) took the telescope in the front yard where there are no security lights to look at the stars.

They even did a science project - the infamous cell phones popping popcorn. Ask your guy if he was here, I’m not going to explain it.

It was an honor to have the Men here this weekend - they blessed the land, the animals, the gardens and most of all, us.

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June 7, 2010 by Debbie.

We finally did it. For years I’ve said I was going to raise some turkeys. So 10 baby Standard Bronze Turkeys and 15 Barred Rock pullets came to us via the Post Office. For two weeks now they’ve lived in the brooder in the garage but Texas heat has come in full force and they were just too hot in there, even with an oscillating fan blowing over them.

So in the almost 100 degree heat this Sunday in late afternoon John and I were snake proofing the old chicken tractor that would also protect from rain (whenever we’ll get it again). We put screening over top the chicken wire and covered every hole we could find. In a few weeks the Barred Rocks will be too big for a snake to swallow but until then I didn’t want to have the only free snake resteraunt around. I can just hear Slim telling Slimey snake, “Tastes like chicken,” and Slimey responding with, “Duh. It is.”

As you can see the screening didn’t improve it’s looks but since it’s solar shade screen it should help keep out some of the blistering sun. The old piece of wood will roof it for shade and rain protection as well.

The baby turkeys and chicks don’t care about looks, they’re just happy to be ‘free at last!’

I have to admit, May was a less than pleasant month but June is an improvement even though it’s been a very expensive month, and we’re only on day 7. We had to replace the pool filter (been needing that for a year or two), had a water line break in the drive way on Sunday morning, bought more cattle panels to cross fence the goat pastures, bought a new grill when the old one finally couldn’t be repaired any more, and after an alignment on the truck it was confirmed we need new tires. Add to that we’re hiring out goat pasture mowing (cheaper than buying a riding mower right now) and the house painter is due to arrive the end of this week.  BTW, to wrap up May, guess who was stupid enough to pull on a dead branch and get hit with bark and splinters and scratch their cornea? Well, it wasn’t John. I’ll never take my eyes for granted again. So despite the added expense, I’m glad May is over and a new month is here.

I decided it was not too late to do spring cleaning so these last two weeks I have been pulling things out of every closet and John’s den. For those of you who have ever heard Fibber McGee and Molly, John’s den equals (or exceeds) the McGee closet. My prayers are with our trash men each week of this month. Prayers that they will take everything we put down there! Six bags last week and a repeat in store for this Friday as well. I recycled the pop cans last week and the old grill today. I have been busy. Look for the truck who ran over me, please; every bone in my body feels it.

But regardless of age related comments my body is making, I have to push on for company is coming this weekend. Hope they talk turkey.

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May 27, 2010 by Debbie.

I know it’s been awhile since I posted to the blog, been a rough kind of month. First one of the kindergartners shared viral pneumonia with me - wonder if that qualifies as a benefit on sub-teaching pay? Secondly,  this last week plus has been spent doctoring one of our baby goats, Rose.

Rose didn’t know she was a goat. She thought she was a pig, so she ate like one. But since I was her goat herder/care giver I should have watched her better. I made the fatal mistake of letting the goats out in new pasture on a Sunday. By Tuesday Rose was bloated. She also got butted pretty hard by Sunshine, an older, temperamental doe and we think that caused a contortion of Rose’s belly or her intestine. Yes, I did take her to the vet and even consulted another vet recommended by my vet. Yes, I did everything I could for her, researching via internet and books and vets’ suggestions. Yes, yes, yes, we prayed for her and had others praying as well.

We thought we’d have to take her in on Wed. morning to have her put down as she was looking so bad on Tuesday evening. Wed. morning she was up and looking brighter than she had in over a week. She even showed interest in eating, first time since the bloat.  I was totally surprised to find her dead this morning when I went out to milk and feed.

Hence the title of today’s blog - sometimes life stinks. The only recourse to that statement is God is still faithful. I wanted to find Janet Paschal doing this song but didn’t find it so here’s another singer with the same message -Take These Burdens

We’ve only had 2 other goats die over the 10+ years we’ve had goats,  so it’s unusual and not something we have any desire to get used to. I’m grateful for the health our goats have experienced.

I have a lot of stuff to do here today, mowing, cleaning out the goat stalls, weeding the small gardens we have; things I’ve let go for more than a week to care for Rose. Somehow my heart isn’t in it so instead I’m going out driving in the country for awhile. May even go by Gober cemetery and sit in the porch swing in the pecan tree.  Comfort time.

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