Persistent

Persistence. It’s what I’ve been musing about today. The thought popped into my head as I sat watching a lone ladybug crawl up my windowsill this morning. Golly, these insects are persistent, I thought to myself! This morning we had our first dusting of snow. It’s the end of October, and the weather has been exceptionally warm up until today. We are finally getting the seasonal temperatures we expect. Which means the bugs should be dying off. Except they are not. Persistent.

I suppose I need to back track a little. Mornings are entirely too early here on “Itsnotta” farm. The youngest now has to be up and ready for the school bus by 7:10 AM. For us, that’s an early wake up call. And, the baby of the house is like her momma… mornings are not our best time of day.

Photo by Acharaporn Kamornboonyarush on Pexels.com

I’m trying. We set our alarm early enough to snooze a little before crawling out from the warmth in order to get the last teenager surviving up in time to catch the bus. Who decided high school should start at 8:15 anyway??!

I tried gentle parenting with no lights on and warm thoughts and kind words. It didn’t work. The hubby now gets up, flicks on every light in the house and we both do a lot of shouting. We pack everything the night before but the kid still manages to not eat breakfast. In fact, she’s barely dressed as we haul her out, shoes in hand, so as not to miss the bus.

All of this to tell you of my encounter with the lady bug. After the chaos of the morning routine, I have been sitting staring out the front window, still in jammies, warm coffee in hand, tucked under some sort of covering, thankful another day has started and wishing the sun to rise. Depending on the amount of shouting and, shall we say, non-gentle parenting that has happened, this quiet moment of solitude plummets me down into a deep hole of thoughts – sometimes good, sometimes not so good.

As I watched the ladybug, I flashed back to the day they invaded. Swarms of them. I hear they are not true ladybugs but some invasive species of Asian beetle who have these seasons of literally taking over. They were everywhere! All along the front porch outside, on every door frame and crawling up the ceiling in a mass swarm of orangey red waves. Bleck! Trusty Google told us not to squish ’em as they emit some sort of nasty stink, so we vacuumed them up in our ancient vacuum – which also emits a nasty stink – so not sure we were one ahead of the game anyway. At least the bugs were gone from inside the house. Except for these few persistent ones.

The houseflies are still here too. I can’t seem to get them under control, either. Occasionally, on a warmer day, a lone wasp still pays us a visit on the sunny porch. My spiders are no where to be seen. Luckily for the hubby, neither are the mosquitoes. Here I am panicking that the rabbits are warm enough and the blessed bugs are still surviving! Persistence.

So, as I muse about the eternally present insects, I think about persistence. Perseverance. The tenacity and determination to keep moving forward. To stay alive, even, when all other circumstances say you should give up – and just die off. Many of us have heard stories of the athlete or business entrepreneur who musters up enough gumption to continue to survive rejection after rejection. I think there are certainly those extreme cases of climbing the mountain to the top, but it seems like most of us ride the wave of persistence daily. At least I do.

We start out every early morning with big plans to be consistent, pray continually, seek grace and gratitude. Be thankful and look for kingdom opportunities. Often we manage to do all those things… for awhile. Then one too many early mornings take hold of us and we are too tired to fight. Or cutting words from someone else makes it super hard to treat them with grace and honour. It’s hard to be grateful when doubt and worry weasel their way into our thoughts as we balance the cheque book, or make another visit to the clinic or counsellor.

Ephesians 6 is one of my favourite chapters in the sense that it reminds us that spiritual growth is a journey of continually getting ready and getting dressed for battle. It reminds us to be persistent in our prayers. To stand your ground in battle and have an attitude of obedience. The apostle Paul knew the battle was difficult, but like my little ladybug he continued to climb heavenward even in the face of death. He knew the battle was worth it.

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To be honest, I struggle with it. I pray, I write, I read, I study. Yet, circumstances and my own stubborn attitude prevents me from being the gracious daughter of the King He’s asked me to be. Some days I physically don’t have it in me. No one said the journey would be roses and rainbows. In fact, Ephesians 6 reminds us it’s a BATTLE. Oh beloveds, be encouraged that battles are not fought all alone. It takes an army. And each one of us have to put on our suits of armor and stand our ground. Shall we march heavenward together? I’ll see you next week!

The Bunny Brigade

Welcome back, my beloveds, to another adventure happening here at my little corner of the internet. The days are getting cooler, the nights are getting cooler for sure, and early mornings are still hard. We packed up our pool today for the season. Slowly, slowly getting ready for the cold Canadian winter that may set in any day. Admittedly, we have been delaying it because the days are still way above freezing. Whatever. One can not predict the weather, I suppose.

Nor can one predict the behaviour of a woman who scrolls selling sights. Facebook marketplace and Kijiji are my new best friends. Mostly I scroll. It really is a crazy world out there. I muse: Hmmn. What could I do with several five gallon buckets of black walnuts? I did start a conversation about elderberries. I gave away some fabric. I am trying to sell off some other craft stuff. We visited a friend recently who had a fabulous century home and I am now inspired to seek out antique pieces to decorate. On a budget, of course. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle and Rescue, right?

Why do I blather on about such things? To justify my impulse buy. I should not have done it. I should have planned better. I know this. My hubby reminds me of this all the time. My family knows me and my thrifting habits all too well… and try and deter me. Often. Too late. Enter in the chat about very reasonably priced rabbits. Hutch and accessories included. Short drive on a Sunday afternoon. Oh, My husband loves me. Yeah, yeah, rescued them from a busy mom who didn’t have time to clean them up all the time. “Stole” them from a devastated seven year old who had been warned one too many times they were her responsibility.

And so, “Pepper” “Pickles” and “Pineapple” have joined the zoo. They came with their names, so don’t judge… devastated seven year old, remember? There was supposed to have been a forth, but she went AWOL just before we arrived. We searched the surrounding bushes and tried negotiating deals and follow ups — but we now own 2 very pretty girls and one very handsome boy bunny. My mother is questioning my sanity.

Now, I know what you are thinking. Rabbits. Boy and girl rabbits. That may lead to many many little rabbits. Not to worry, we have separated the two girls from the boy. Which brings me to my lesson of the week. Since the bunnies have come, I have been reading and researching and trying my best to house and care for the new additions – as any good pet owner should. I’ve never had bunnies before and we are housing them outdoors, because, well, bunnies are stinky. They eat a lot. And what goes in, must come out. My garden area is well composted for the spring. Let me tell you!

The Girls: Pepper and Pickles

Since we are about to hit winter, I am fretting. How will they do out in the cold? They must be kept out of the harsh winds, given extra food. Their housing must be warm, dry and draft free. I’ve learned about hay versus straw. Bedding and enrichment. And rabbit temperament. “Pepper” is a shy girl. She can be pushed to her limits though, and will protest the end of her limit with a large sounding back foot “thump”. “Pineapple” is the boy and curious. I think he likes people, but hasn’t totally warmed up yet. “Pickles” is the instigator. She arrived with a few scars that were healing and now we know why. She picks the fights. She certainly does not like the boy’s advances, so no worries there. We have maintained the peace and kept the bloodshed (and flying fur!) at a minimum. Funny creatures they are!

Pineapple, our handsome boy bunny!

Thus, I muse: if three tiny rabbits can bring such diversity and worry to my little world, how much more does the Creator of the Universe fret over us? Can you even imagine trying to make sense out of the world’s population of personalities, cultures, religions, traditions, temperaments and prayers?! Now, I know He’s God and my finite mind cannot even begin to comprehend what He can handle, but I know He feels our fears and is disappointed with our behaviours. Recent worldly events remind me that we, too, are instigators. We puff out our chests and let the fur fly when we don’t like something. Sometimes we are more reserved and it takes a little longer before we stomp our feet in protest. Other times, we throw caution to the wind and we indulge in one too many of the carrots dangling before us — and end up making a stinky mess. Or our sins breed wild, like, well, like rabbits, until we are over run and can’t keep up.

Our ancient scriptures tell us endless stories of people just like us who have messed up, but under grace, God continues to take us back. Continues to love and feed us. Continues to keep us out of the cold and safe. He knows we fight. And unlike me, our addition was not an impulse. We were planned and wanted and a perfect home was prepared for our arrival. It was us who screwed it up. We come with our scars, and a few of us go AWOL, but He’s there still to load us up and take us home. Forever.

Don’t tell the crew, but I hope to have a whole bunny brigade someday. A mix of colours, breeds and personalities. I will continue to learn rabbit husbandry. And be reminded how my heavenly Father accepts us all with grace and love. Do you feel it, my friend? Do you see it in something around you, like I see it in my new bunny brigade? What makes you see it? Share with me !

Building a Firm Foundation

Another week has flown by! Is it just me or does time seem to go faster when we get older? Nonetheless, it’s one of those constants we can rely on, eh? Time. The sun rises and the sun sets no matter what we do. One of the blessings we have in Canada is the changing of the seasons. October is one of those months where this fact is ever so evident. One moment we are in shorts and t-shirts, the next, we’ve donned our hats and jackets. Do we put the heat on or the air conditioning? Yep, October is that kind of month.

photo via Unsplash

So we find ourselves in this month of flux, pondering about the future. Specifically, we find ourselves thinking about the impending Canadian winter. It will be our first winter here in the country — and we hear the wind is something to contend with. Apparently we get some big snow drifts as the winter wind whips its way across the now cleared and barren farmer fields. Our little brick century home is surprisingly cozy and warm so far. In fact, the family and I are in debate about the temperature… it’s too hot, it’s cold, turn up the heat, open a window… and so it is in October.

Which brings us to our current project: firewood. We have a wood burning fireplace in our kitchen and my husband is delighted. He’s a bit of a fire fan. Now that the pool is closed up, he has switched his attention to learning all about fireplaces. He sourced a local farmer and ordered a bushel? A peck? A cord? A giant pile of firewood and kindling that arrived and was dumped on our driveway last week. More work for us! Now don’t worry, we haven’t gone off grid and wood will not be our main source of heat through the winter, so do we need the fire? No. Will it supplement our output and bring the country to our winter? Sure. Do we need it in October? Maybe not.

Alas, a few fires have been lit – just to test it out – I’ve been told. Especially at night… because, you know, that’s the coldest time in this unpredictable fall season. Which is all well and good until our fire protection starts screaming at us that “there is smoke in the dining room and the alarm will sound shortly”. Needless to say, the bedroom windows got cracked open and all was well in short accord. Well, all was fine after the late night debate on smoke in the house versus heat and necessary timing of fires in October versus the heart of winter. No worries. We still love each other.

Still, let’s go back to the thought of a cord of firewood in our driveway. (Which, should you care, according to Google is “an amount of wood, when racked and well stowed, occupies a volume of approximately 128 cubit feet. A pile 4 foot by 4 foot by 8 feet.) Emphasis on the racked and well stowed. Number one, we needed to find a clean, dry space for this wood. Number two we needed to get it there, and number three, it needed to be stored in some organized manner for use through the winter.

My pile was looking pretty good. Until.

We have a cleared space not far from the house under some thick cedars that was the previous owner’s wood pile. A few logs are under there and it is fairly dry and usable. A little farther out is an empty metal shed currently used by the squirrels for their own winter collections of pine cones and the like. This seemed like the most logical place to set up the wood pile. And so we began the task of loading the newly acquired wheelbarrow and trekking wood. Oh… before that we had to shovel out the pine cones. Sorry to disturb your hard work, chipmunks.

Easy, right? A bit of manual labour never hurt anyone. Great workout. I soon discovered stacking wood is an art. You must start with something to lift the small logs off the ground, then fit small and large pieces together like some delicate game of Tetris… soaring ever so much higher until your shoulders ache from lifting above your own stature. I was doing well. It looked good. The fire pit master approved. Until. Until I casually tossed that log over my head and the right side of my pile shifted and logs began to slide. Then the whole six foot pile began tumbling to the right, sliding like Dominos, one after the other until my neat stack was again, just a pile.

I managed to regain my “racked and well stowed” pile with some strategically placed perpendicular logs along the side, and relied heavily on the walls of the shed for long term crash avoidance. Even though I don’t really want the wood leaning on the metal for fear it dents. Plus, there is something about proper air flow for dry wood you are supposed to adhere to for good storage. Live and Learn.

And so the adventures of city turned country bumpkins continues to unfold. Just the same, it gives me something to think about. How many times have I simply traveled along in my journey, piling up the accomplishments and achievements, only to have it come crashing all down on top of me. Why? I missed that firm foundation needed to make those accomplishments solid. The Gospels tell us that if our foundations are built on the solid rock of Christ, we will be able to stand firm when trials and tribulations come our way. Many of you are familiar with the builder who built his house upon the rock so that the winds could not shake it.

And so it is with us. Our Rock is firm. If we focus on laying those solid pieces of anchor logs (truths and promises shared with us in God’s Word), we are told that then we are safe to build and stack those racked and ready life plans for the future. Agreed, sometimes we tend to rely on the metal shed walls of our environment to catch us. Self help and worldly promises often do the job temporarily. Eventually, those, too, dent and give way to the pressure of the pile.

It takes discipline to develop those foundations. It is an Art. Once it is learned, we are guaranteed a constant supply of warmth and comfort in the dark dreary days of winter. Our hard work pays off in contentment. Preparation is a big deal here, and I’m discovering it is a well learned skill shared down through generation to generation. It pays to listen. I’ve got to get the wheelbarrow loaded up again and finish up the last few remnants of sticks still strewn across the driveway – because soon November will arrive and we will need a fire.