March 29, 2010 by Debbie.

The Choice
by Max Lucado
He placed one scoop of clay upon another until a form lay lifeless on the ground.
All of the Garden’s inhabitants paused to witness the event. Hawks hovered. Giraffes stretched. Trees bowed. Butterflies paused on petals and watched.
“You will love me, nature,” God said. “I made you that way. You will obey me, universe. For you were designed to do so. You will reflect my glory, skies, for that is how you were created. But this one will be like me. This one will be able to choose.”
All were silent as the Creator reached into himself and removed something yet unseen. A seed. “It’s called ‘choice.’ The seed of choice.”
Creation stood in silence and gazed upon the lifeless form.
An angel spoke, “But what if he … ”
“What if he chooses not to love?” the Creator finished. “Come, I will show you.”
Unbound by today, God and the angel walked into the realm of tomorrow.
“There, see the fruit of the seed of choice, both the sweet and the bitter.”
The angel gasped at what he saw. Spontaneous love. Voluntary devotion. Chosen tenderness. Never had he seen anything like these. He felt the love of the Adams. He heard the joy of Eve and her daughters. He saw the food and the burdens shared. He absorbed the kindness and marveled at the warmth.
“Heaven has never seen such beauty, my Lord. Truly, this is your greatest creation.”
“Ah, but you’ve only seen the sweet. Now witness the bitter.”
A stench enveloped the pair. The angel turned in horror and proclaimed, “What is it?”
The Creator spoke only one word: “Selfishness.”
The angel stood speechless as they passed through centuries of repugnance. Never had he seen such filth. Rotten hearts. Ruptured promises. Forgotten loyalties. Children of the creation wandering blindly in lonely labyrinths.
“This is the result of choice?” the angel asked.
“Yes.”
“They will forget you?”
“Yes.”
“They will reject you?”
“Yes.”
“They will never come back?”
“Some will. Most won’t.”
“What will it take to make them listen?”
The Creator walked on in time, further and further into the future, until he stood by a tree. A tree that would be fashioned into a cradle. Even then he could smell the hay that would surround him.
With another step into the future, he paused before another tree. It stood alone, a stubborn ruler of a bald hill. The trunk was thick, and the wood was strong. Soon it would be cut. Soon it would be trimmed. Soon it would be mounted on the stony brow of another hill. And soon he would be hung on it.
He felt the wood rub against a back he did not yet wear.
“Will you go down there?” the angel asked.
“I will.”
“Is there no other way?”
“There is not.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to not plant the seed? Wouldn’t it be easier to not give the choice?”
“It would,” the Creator spoke slowly. “But to remove the choice is to remove the love.”
He looked around the hill and foresaw a scene. Three figures hung on three crosses. Arms spread. Heads fallen forward. They moaned with the wind.
Men clad in soldiers’ garb sat on the ground near the trio. They played games in the dirt and laughed.
Men clad in religion stood off to one side. They smiled. Arrogant, cocky. They had protected God, they thought, by killing this false one.
Women clad in sorrow huddled at the foot of the hill. Speechless. Faces tear streaked. Eyes downward. One put her arm around another and tried to lead her away. She wouldn’t leave. “I will stay,” she said softly. “I will stay.”
All heaven stood to fight. All nature rose to rescue. All eternity poised to protect. But the Creator gave no command.
“It must be done … ,” he said, and withdrew.
But as he stepped back in time, he heard the cry that he would someday scream: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34 )  He wrenched at tomorrow’s agony.
The angel spoke again. “It would be less painful … ”
The Creator interrupted softly. “But it wouldn’t be love.”
They stepped into the Garden again. The Maker looked earnestly at the clay creation. A monsoon of love swelled up within him. He had died for the creation before he had made him. God’s form bent over the sculptured face and breathed. Dust stirred on the lips of the new one. The chest rose, cracking the red mud. The cheeks fleshened. A finger moved. And an eye opened.
But more incredible than the moving of the flesh was the stirring of the spirit. Those who could see the unseen gasped.
Perhaps it was the wind who said it first. Perhaps what the star saw that moment is what has made it blink ever since. Maybe it was left to an angel to whisper it:
“It looks like … it appears so much like … it is him!”
The angel wasn’t speaking of the face, the features, or the body. He was looking inside—at the soul.
“It’s eternal!” gasped another.
Within the man, God had placed a divine seed. A seed of his self. The God of might had created earth’s mightiest. The Creator had created, not a creature, but another creator. And the One who had chosen to love had created one who could love in return.
Now it’s our choice.
From In the Eye of the Storm [http://www.crosswalkmail.com/wffnlzdsnfnbdjsybwqmtbktdzbjvqqjfgdtllydgvzzlsd_eqdtqdssbhds.html]

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March 22, 2010 by Debbie.

First day of spring and a cold front came in. We had temps in the lower 30’s and snow by 4:00 pm, with a tad of sleet mixed in for good measure.  We had batten down all the cold frames the night before and had all the goats in dry, warm shelters so it was just a matter of  waiting it out.

Sunday, when I looked out the back windows (facing North) it looked like an Ohio blizzard with the wind blowing the snow off the roof into a whirl to join the 2 inch coating on the ground. It was beautiful, just not what I wanted on a Sunday morning at the end of March.  I’d much rather have been worshiping at church but since we’ were definitely here there was no use in moping around. I’d already fixed the dough for cream cheese Kringles - raspberry and apricot, John’s two favorite jams. It didn’t take long to fill the rolled out dough and stick them in the oven.

Pepper, John’s cat, came rushing to see if he could have some warm goats milk. He was not amused I delayed milking to fix the Kringles but he did eat the left over ricotta, accepting my apology grudgingly as only a cat can do. Despite the cold, wet snow he was ready to head out as soon as his meal was over. He’s a great barn cat, liking only to rarely visit ‘the big house.’

Snow and freezing temps yesterday and then today broke clear and beautiful, temps in the higher 60’s. It was an almost perfect day. No day is perfect if John’s not here with me but that was about the only thing wrong today. I even cleaned the guest bath and ran the vacuum.  Of course, I had motivation - two friends are coming over to make cheese tomorrow.

After housecleaning and laundry I actually had time to quilt today. I worked on two scrappy quilts - one that’s almost finished and one I’m just starting. I get antsy when I come close to finishing a quilt. Doing the same pattern over and over can breed boredom so I usually start the next quilt before the last one is completely done - new inspiration.

Everything survived the snow and cold, again. The broccoli is heading up and will be ready to selectively pick this weekend. We already picked our first kohlrabi and lettuces/greens for salad. The scallions and green garlic  that basically grow on their own (with my weeding help) are adding great flavor to the salads as well. I planted some radish before the snow fell so that should be fine to pop up any day now. I’m sure the kale loved the cold and will be even better tasting after wards - frost always improves kale’s flavor.  The English peas sprouted and did fine with the snow covering.

Bud and I spent some time on the porch swing. It was so wonderful out I even snoozed for a few minutes.  Yep, today was a really good day! I could almost hear Olivia Walton saying, “I can’t wait for spring of the year …. forsythia blooooooooooooming by the fence…”

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March 11, 2010 by Debbie.

The weather  seemed to have tempered some, at least no further arctic cold fronts have blasted through. This is enough to give me hope Spring is here to (maybe) stay. ‘Course, Easter is in April so there’s always a chance of a late freeze or even a late snow fall. It’s a catch-22. An early Easter, in mid March or so, is always too cold or wet or both, for the grandkids to go outside to hunt Easter eggs. A late Easter almost always brings a late freeze. I’m hoping a April 4th Easter will be early enough to stave off the cold yet late enough to be warm. I want the best of both worlds.

We harvested our second Chinese Cabbage this weekend. Ignore the onions laying on top of the ground …. I never did crawl in the cold frame to set them to rights after one of the floods. The short, little broccoli plants have quarter sized heads forming and I think I distinguished two of the cauliflower plants from the broccoli. One good thing about a garden is time will tell out. Even when I wished it didn’t!

Here’s a picture of  homesteading friends’ goat house. I love the design and the simplicity of the house, yet it’s fully functional. If that back roof line was a glass window it would make a great green house also.

Another one of our dogs died this week. Heide was 15+ years old. I knew she was getting close to her heavenly retirement days  and wasn’t surprised when her body started shutting down on Monday. I had prayed for months that when it was time for her to die, I wanted her to just die quietly without any suffering. I’m sick of taking my dogs in to the vets to be put to sleep when their pain is too great. Thank God, he heard and answered my prayers. Heide slipped into Heaven quietly from a semi-comatose state on Tuesday about 1:30 pm. It was amazing to watch Bud; how he could sense and smell the changes taking place. I had pulled the recliner back and had dozed off for about an hour when I heard Bud pacing (clicky-clack toe nails on the cement floors) around Heide. He had sensed her dying moments and came in the living room with us.   It’s also amazing how quiet the room got when Heide’s spirit left her body.

How  fragile life is! How marvelous, also, that even the life of a dog can be felt as it leaves our world.

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March 3, 2010 by Debbie.

I lost it again. John went to hunt it down for me and I said don’t bother. I’ll pour another cup and I’ll come across the lost one later. John was concerned about the lost cup of coffee going to waste but as I drink coffee in any stage, even left over on the bedside table overnight, it wouldn’t go to waste.

I may use the same cups over a couple of days but I end up having two or three different cups as I carry one around with me, set it down and forget where I left it. Yes, I have put a cup of coffee on top of the truck and driven off before. Thank goodness, it wasn’t a glass cup.

This seems to be typical of many things in my life, not just coffee cups. I’ve picked up hobbies and then laid them down somewhere and forgotten about them to only later  come across the supplies and wonder why I started but did not finish that hobby project. I start diets and set them aside and only when stepping on the scales do I miss them and wonder where and why I left them. Not too big of a pondering on that one. I like my own homemade fudge and vanilla Oreos more than I like dieting.

The thing that bothers me the most are the serious things in life that I set aside.  I may be able to wait out finding that lost cup of coffee but what happens if I set aside my compassion for hurting people and THEY’RE the ones left waiting? What if I set aside the urgency of living the life God intended for me - one of loving Him foremost and of service to others - and that urgency is lost?

Wanting another cup of coffee, I found my lost cup this morning, ice cold on the dresser.

What will prompt my soul to go hunting for the serious, important things I set aside?

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