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And you thought the first two words of this post were going to be:
"....Me Crazy".
No, he's actually driving! By himself.
You can't sue me, now. You have been warned.
Holy cow, how did we get to this place???
Wasn't it just yesterday I was picking him up out of the crib, and drawing him in for a kiss before I put him down on the floor to crawl around? Wasn't it just yesterday that I was strapping him into his high chair, and kissing him again as I did it, because I just couldn't miss a single opportunity to kiss that sweet head?
Oh, wait. That was yesterday. And he mentioned that at 16, he's had just about enough of the strained peas.
Kidding.
But, I'm not kidding about the driving part. He's driving all alone (when we let him). The other night, I had the taco meat browned, the taco shells warmed up, and I suddenly remembered that we were out of lettuce. Drat. Oh, well, we'll just do without. Because, it's a 15 minute drive (30 minutes round trip) to the nearest food store on twisty-turny roads with no shoulder. Just the day before, my husband had seen a car overturned going down the hill to the area we call the "gulch", because, if your tire goes out of the white line, there really is nothing but a very deep ditch, capable of overturning your car. But then came the clincher: I went to the cheese drawer, to pull out the grated cheese that I knew was in there, and the man I live with, who is occasionally referred to as "Hoovie" for his ability to suck down food, had apparently been about his favorite pastime: sucking down ingredients that I had counted on for what I was cooking.
No lettuce? A loss, but, not critical. No cheese? No tacos.
So, with fear and trepidation, we handed our dear son the keys to the car, and sent him on his way. My husband pulled me outside under the stars, where he put his arm around me, and there we stood: two really old people, watching our first born pull out down the driveway, tunes blasting. I think it was a male rite of passage, because it was getting to my dear husband even more than it was getting to me. I was just praying for no one to die. He was all verklempt: must of been remembering himself at that stage. I don't know.
I rode with my firstborn again this week: my first time to ride with him out on the interstate. He did well, even navigating through a severe thunderstorm, with some pretty good winds. He has a weekly class he may well be driving himself to alone next week. (Unless, of course, he manages to lose his privileges....but that's another blog post, for another day, that may never be written, hopefully.)
Wild Life in the Woods: Where You'll Find Faith, Food, and Fun
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Life has its Seasons
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And I kind of suspect that my Deacon D. Dawg may be in the October of his life.
But seasons are to be celebrated, so today, won't you celebrate with me a beautiful October in the Boonies, as seen from off the balcony off my husband's studio?
As, I type this, it's very early, and still dark, and there's a hootie owl outside making a lot of racket.
It's kind of freaking me out.
I'm all alone downstairs, except for my faithful Pilgrim Pee Dog, who is watching out for me, and is equally concerned about the owl's hooting.
So, anywho, since I have no one else to talk to this morning, how about if I post for you some lovely pictures that my Big Bison took of my not so faithful but ever-lovin' and ever eager to gobble kibble Deakie Boy.
As much as Pillie is my shadow, Deakie stays by my Big Bison's side nearly all day long. We joke that Deakie finds the Big Bison to be his rock, and his fortress. When the weather is nice, the BB opens up the balcony he built onto his studio, and leaves the door open, and Deakie Boy likes to go outside and lie on it, and survey his domain from this lofty perch.
These pictures make me smile. Deakie is 10 years old, which is around 70 in dog years, and he's no spring chicken. But don't tell him that. He is blissfully unaware of his seniority. In fact, he's blissfully unaware of a LOT, since he probably sleeps around 23 hours a day. But he enjoys that one hour of awake time to its fullest. He likes to break it up into more manageable chunks of about 20 minutes each. He calls those time slots Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. (And, then, of course, there's Waste Management. But that really SHOULD have gone without saying. Really.) Not that it takes him 20 minutes to eat: heck no. Not even 20 seconds involved there. About 10 seconds (or less) are involved in Power Kibble Slamming, but, he likes to anticipate the joys of those precious 10 seconds during the time it takes US to eat our meals. And then, he races joyfully to the kibble bowl, very often wiping out on the hardwood when he can't quite manage the corner turn around the island. And stands there barking his fool head off at us while we dole out the one cup of kibble ration, as if to say, "Hurry!!! HURRY!!!"
Labs.
Honest to gosh.
They're just ridiculous.
But I sure don't want his season doesn't come to an end any time soon, either.
And I kind of suspect that my Deacon D. Dawg may be in the October of his life.
But seasons are to be celebrated, so today, won't you celebrate with me a beautiful October in the Boonies, as seen from off the balcony off my husband's studio?
As, I type this, it's very early, and still dark, and there's a hootie owl outside making a lot of racket.
It's kind of freaking me out.
I'm all alone downstairs, except for my faithful Pilgrim Pee Dog, who is watching out for me, and is equally concerned about the owl's hooting.
So, anywho, since I have no one else to talk to this morning, how about if I post for you some lovely pictures that my Big Bison took of my not so faithful but ever-lovin' and ever eager to gobble kibble Deakie Boy.
As much as Pillie is my shadow, Deakie stays by my Big Bison's side nearly all day long. We joke that Deakie finds the Big Bison to be his rock, and his fortress. When the weather is nice, the BB opens up the balcony he built onto his studio, and leaves the door open, and Deakie Boy likes to go outside and lie on it, and survey his domain from this lofty perch.
These pictures make me smile. Deakie is 10 years old, which is around 70 in dog years, and he's no spring chicken. But don't tell him that. He is blissfully unaware of his seniority. In fact, he's blissfully unaware of a LOT, since he probably sleeps around 23 hours a day. But he enjoys that one hour of awake time to its fullest. He likes to break it up into more manageable chunks of about 20 minutes each. He calls those time slots Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. (And, then, of course, there's Waste Management. But that really SHOULD have gone without saying. Really.) Not that it takes him 20 minutes to eat: heck no. Not even 20 seconds involved there. About 10 seconds (or less) are involved in Power Kibble Slamming, but, he likes to anticipate the joys of those precious 10 seconds during the time it takes US to eat our meals. And then, he races joyfully to the kibble bowl, very often wiping out on the hardwood when he can't quite manage the corner turn around the island. And stands there barking his fool head off at us while we dole out the one cup of kibble ration, as if to say, "Hurry!!! HURRY!!!"
Labs.
Honest to gosh.
They're just ridiculous.
But I sure don't want his season doesn't come to an end any time soon, either.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
What Isaiah Saw
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Fall has come to the Boonies.
Pretty glorious, huh?
Wish you could be here to see it!
And speaking of seeing glorious things....
(not a GREAT segue, but the best I can come up with to go with the pretty picture....and you know...I've been doing a study in the book of Isaiah, and sharing some of what I've received on my blog...so here we go with THAT portion of the program...)
What we see can forever change who we are.
Soldiers go off to war and witness terrible cruelties, and then must deal with those recurring images. Some of us have witnessed violent accidents, and we struggle to get those pictures to stop replaying in our minds.
By the same token, we can also be changed in positive ways by the things we see. I was fortunate enough to grow up in a home where I saw love lived out in front of me every day. It had its effect.
In the sixth chapter of Isaiah, the prophet Isaiah, who lived 700 years before Christ, saw a vision that forever changed him. Read those first four verses:
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphs, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:
"Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty;
the whole earth is full of his glory."
At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.
Isaiah, who happened to be the cousin of the king, who apparently had access to the king of Judah, who was therefore used to seeing royalty, saw a vision of the King of the Universe, enthroned in the temple, surrounded by flying heavenly creatures called seraphs (that name means, literally, "burning ones"). The seraphs called out to each other about the greatness of their King, and their voices were so powerful that the whole temple shook, and the temple itself filled with smoke. This is a scene of awesome, monumental grandeur.
How did what Isaiah saw affect him? Read on:
"Woe to me!" I cried. "I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty."
When Isaiah caught a vision of the power, the majesty, the sheer otherness of the King of the Universe, he was undone. He recognized his own position in relation to the holiness of God.
When we catch a glimpse of who we are in relation to the Creator of the Universe, it tends to whittle us down to size as well. This story illustrates that principle well:
"William Beebe, the naturalist, used to tell this story about Teddy Roosevelt. At Sagamore Hill, after an evening of talk, the two would go out on the lawn and search the skies for a certain spot of star-like light near the lower left-hand corner of the Great Square of Pegasus. Then Roosevelt would recite: “That is the Spiral Galaxy in Andromeda. It is as large as our Milky Way. It is one of a hundred million galaxies. It consists of one hundred billion suns, each larger than our sun.” Then Roosevelt would grin and say, “Now I think we are small enough! Let’s go to bed."
Now maybe you and I aren't having celestial visions and prophetic dreams with God enthroned in the temple, and flying seraphs and earthquakes and smoke but, God does reveal who He is to each one of us, if only we have eyes to see. We can see Him in nature, in the beauty of the changing seasons, in the vastness of the ocean, in the intricacy of design in even the tiniest of creatures. He reveals Himself through the Bible, where we see His heart of love reaching out to man as a loving Father.
So, in a sense, what Isaiah saw can become what we see, too, if that is what we long to see. We can see our holy God, and we can see that an accurate assessment of our own position in relation to Him, is that we are of somewhat limited importance in the grand scheme of things.
But the beautiful thing about this chapter is that God didn't just leave Isaiah there, feeling like an insignificant little worm. In love, He reached out to Isaiah, providing cleansing for his sin, and inviting Isaiah to become a participant in the plan of the Sovereign King of the universe.
Read on!
Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, "See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for."
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?"
And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"
God reached out to take care of the problem that Isaiah saw he had: He was a man of unclean lips. And God provided the cleansing needed through the coal from the altar. (You MIGHT even say that Isaiah was altered by the altar...if you liked a bad pun....)In the same way, for all who come to Him, God still takes care of us by providing us with forgiveness, and a mission: to share that love with those who long for it.
The task that God had for Isaiah to do was tough. One might even describe it as Mission Impossible. He was to carry the message to Judah that they needed to turn back to God. And God told Isaiah that the people would not be responsive. But, Isaiah was not supposed to worry about the results. His job was to be God's faithful messenger.
Guess what: we're not supposed to concern ourselves with the results of what God calls us to do as parents, either. There's not a one of us who can FORCE our kids into loving God, and living for God. Our job - (and it's a long one, too! As parents, we are in this for the long haul!!!) is to faithfully give our children the message that God loves them, and longs to live in relationship with them, just as God loved Judah, and longed for that nation to turn back to Him and live in relationship with Him.
Who knew we were so much like Isaiah????
One more thing that I have been thinking about: Isaiah's answer to the Lord was, "Here am I! Oh, Lord, send me!" With an exclamation point! Is that how I answer God? Not usually. Usually, I'm dragging my feet, and wondering how little I can get away with and it still be "enough". Isaiah's response to God challenges me to be more open to whatever God has for me to do. With enthusiasm!
So what was it Isaiah saw? Isaiah saw the Lord. Isaiah saw his sin. Isaiah saw his purification. And Isaiah saw his mission.
May we, in our own lives, see what Isaiah saw.
Fall has come to the Boonies.
Pretty glorious, huh?
Wish you could be here to see it!
And speaking of seeing glorious things....
(not a GREAT segue, but the best I can come up with to go with the pretty picture....and you know...I've been doing a study in the book of Isaiah, and sharing some of what I've received on my blog...so here we go with THAT portion of the program...)
What we see can forever change who we are.
Soldiers go off to war and witness terrible cruelties, and then must deal with those recurring images. Some of us have witnessed violent accidents, and we struggle to get those pictures to stop replaying in our minds.
By the same token, we can also be changed in positive ways by the things we see. I was fortunate enough to grow up in a home where I saw love lived out in front of me every day. It had its effect.
In the sixth chapter of Isaiah, the prophet Isaiah, who lived 700 years before Christ, saw a vision that forever changed him. Read those first four verses:
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphs, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:
"Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty;
the whole earth is full of his glory."
At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.
Isaiah, who happened to be the cousin of the king, who apparently had access to the king of Judah, who was therefore used to seeing royalty, saw a vision of the King of the Universe, enthroned in the temple, surrounded by flying heavenly creatures called seraphs (that name means, literally, "burning ones"). The seraphs called out to each other about the greatness of their King, and their voices were so powerful that the whole temple shook, and the temple itself filled with smoke. This is a scene of awesome, monumental grandeur.
How did what Isaiah saw affect him? Read on:
"Woe to me!" I cried. "I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty."
When Isaiah caught a vision of the power, the majesty, the sheer otherness of the King of the Universe, he was undone. He recognized his own position in relation to the holiness of God.
When we catch a glimpse of who we are in relation to the Creator of the Universe, it tends to whittle us down to size as well. This story illustrates that principle well:
"William Beebe, the naturalist, used to tell this story about Teddy Roosevelt. At Sagamore Hill, after an evening of talk, the two would go out on the lawn and search the skies for a certain spot of star-like light near the lower left-hand corner of the Great Square of Pegasus. Then Roosevelt would recite: “That is the Spiral Galaxy in Andromeda. It is as large as our Milky Way. It is one of a hundred million galaxies. It consists of one hundred billion suns, each larger than our sun.” Then Roosevelt would grin and say, “Now I think we are small enough! Let’s go to bed."
Now maybe you and I aren't having celestial visions and prophetic dreams with God enthroned in the temple, and flying seraphs and earthquakes and smoke but, God does reveal who He is to each one of us, if only we have eyes to see. We can see Him in nature, in the beauty of the changing seasons, in the vastness of the ocean, in the intricacy of design in even the tiniest of creatures. He reveals Himself through the Bible, where we see His heart of love reaching out to man as a loving Father.
So, in a sense, what Isaiah saw can become what we see, too, if that is what we long to see. We can see our holy God, and we can see that an accurate assessment of our own position in relation to Him, is that we are of somewhat limited importance in the grand scheme of things.
But the beautiful thing about this chapter is that God didn't just leave Isaiah there, feeling like an insignificant little worm. In love, He reached out to Isaiah, providing cleansing for his sin, and inviting Isaiah to become a participant in the plan of the Sovereign King of the universe.
Read on!
Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, "See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for."
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?"
And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"
God reached out to take care of the problem that Isaiah saw he had: He was a man of unclean lips. And God provided the cleansing needed through the coal from the altar. (You MIGHT even say that Isaiah was altered by the altar...if you liked a bad pun....)In the same way, for all who come to Him, God still takes care of us by providing us with forgiveness, and a mission: to share that love with those who long for it.
The task that God had for Isaiah to do was tough. One might even describe it as Mission Impossible. He was to carry the message to Judah that they needed to turn back to God. And God told Isaiah that the people would not be responsive. But, Isaiah was not supposed to worry about the results. His job was to be God's faithful messenger.
Guess what: we're not supposed to concern ourselves with the results of what God calls us to do as parents, either. There's not a one of us who can FORCE our kids into loving God, and living for God. Our job - (and it's a long one, too! As parents, we are in this for the long haul!!!) is to faithfully give our children the message that God loves them, and longs to live in relationship with them, just as God loved Judah, and longed for that nation to turn back to Him and live in relationship with Him.
Who knew we were so much like Isaiah????
One more thing that I have been thinking about: Isaiah's answer to the Lord was, "Here am I! Oh, Lord, send me!" With an exclamation point! Is that how I answer God? Not usually. Usually, I'm dragging my feet, and wondering how little I can get away with and it still be "enough". Isaiah's response to God challenges me to be more open to whatever God has for me to do. With enthusiasm!
So what was it Isaiah saw? Isaiah saw the Lord. Isaiah saw his sin. Isaiah saw his purification. And Isaiah saw his mission.
May we, in our own lives, see what Isaiah saw.
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