Tag Archives: faith journey

Hope and a Rock

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Welcome back, my beloveds! You’ll forgive me for missing last week… it was a crazy time and I just couldn’t get there. Or here. Or wherever, whatever. I’m back now. We had a few first world crises which made my momma’s heart heavy and the words didn’t want to translate on the page. This week, however, that heavy heart reminded me of a story about when we first moved in to “Itsnotta” farm. So, let’s have a go, shall we?

It was mid summer and I was excited about the new property and all its potential. We may have been here about six weeks or so. The previous owner had finished the back patio as part of our final agreements, and it lacked a little lustre. The property has a big front garden and I knew I didn’t want to get in over my head just yet with a bunch of new planting in the middle of summer, but I had splurged on a couple of chicks and hens and needed a spot to put them. So I dug out a little diagonal spot next to the patio, adjacent to the back porch. We had been finding a lot of little toads hanging out back there and in the spring of this year, the youngest and I are going to make a “toad abode” so they don’t end up in our window well. (Have you ever had to rescue a toad? … they are cute but not so fun to handle).

Photo by Kolin Smith via thisoldhouse.com

It’s a tiny spot of garden so I am not super invested – but decided it needed a rock. Now imagine with me our new property, a tiny garden spot and us city slickers with little cash and next to nothing in the way of large garden tools. We didn’t even have a wheelbarrow at that time. We did, however, have a large boulder with pretty red streaks of some mineral running through it, roundish and seemingly the perfect shape to put next to a toad house and some succulents. Only issue — it was on the other side of the pool, on the opposite side of the farm field from said tiny garden plot.

No problem. I am country woman now. I can do it. So, as my hubby and fully capable children sunned themselves in the newly discovered pool, I hauled that 60-70 pound rock! I had to toss it several times like a wanna be lumber jack learning log toss to avoid dropping it on my bare feet, but it made it through my “rests”. I plunked it down on a patch of dirt where it currently sits awaiting spring and the emerging toad friends.

Why do I tell you this? The memory came to me as I was fretting over the hard weekend last week. It seems appropriate that this, the first week of Advent, was the Sunday we light the Hope candle. I needed the reminder that life is hard sometimes. Even so, there is Hope. We struggle and push through with determination – often because we are stuck between a “rock and a hard place”. God gives us challenges to help us grow. Not that that thought makes it any easier. Rocks (and our burdens) are heavy. Sometimes we have a vision in mind of the final picturesque garden with spring flowers and where warty toads have their own spaces and don’t get in your way. Yet, the rock is there to remind us, that yes, we can do hard things. The rock provides our shade for growth. Our security and stability to plant roots deep and protected.

Overcoming challenges provides us with a reminder of the Hope Christ gives us. We anticipate it and push through the hard stuff because we have it. Given to us in a little baby whose birth we celebrate at Christmas. Still, Christmas brings its own set of “hard things” for many of us. Memories can be both joyful and sad… sometimes at the same time. Here’s praying you see and feel the Hope more than the heartache this season. I am looking forward to digging through the old decorations – and adding more this year as we decorate our country porch and the barn. Maybe I should stick a poinsettia out next to my garden rock and bring a little pretty to the hard stuff. A decoration for the sleeping toads.

…I will show mercy and compassion to anyone I choose… stand near Me on this rock. As my glorious presence passes by, I will hide you in the crevice of the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by…”

adapted from Exodus 33

Land Ho!

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This year has been one of change for the Mitton crew. Transition. Everything got up ended and turned around. I’m not complaining, just making an observation. It continued this week when I finally dyed my hair with that streak of purple. My family hates it. I don’t care though, because it was for me and not for them. We come to a point in our lives where we get old enough to not care anymore what people may think. As long as you and God are good, and your choices are wise and Biblical… a little colour in your hair is not a big deal. Right?! Check out this post if you want to here the back story on the purple hair thing, though.

Throw back to 2019 and my midlife crisis and the plan for purple hair! See the link!

Anyway, purple hair was not my muse this week. A lot has been swirling around in my head, and some family stuff has been going on, and I’m throwing out resumes in hopes for some employment. Christmas will be here soon and it is supposed to snow today. I still have a few boxes to do and my plans for the house have fallen into disarray as old habits and boredom creep back in with the cooler weather. However – I am pushing forward – slowly – and trying to keep my days full and meaningful.

I got the chance to catch up with an old friend this week. We met halfway between us, in a little town’s main street diner for lunch and a good, long chat! Something about greasy onion rings and good company can fill my heart. Yet, it was the drive home that struck the muse for this week. It’s about a half hour trek home from the diner along the country roads, which are now mostly barren of autumn colour. The last of the harvests are happening and there seems to be endless fields of browns and dull yellows with the occasional green forests. Even the farmhouses along the route seem dull, their whitewashed barn board sidings and dried up gardens blend in with the horizon.

Still, one of the remarkable landscape features I have discovered since moving east are the rolling hills. In fact, the route from the diner passes a small ski hill and at one point the car peaks at the top and cascades down. The view of the countryside is fabulous – even in its dull estate. I drove this hill a few days before in the utter darkness. And although I am not afraid of country roads in the dark, I am thankful for high beams and my GPS. It’s black out there. And the ski hill does not seem to have a bottom, so you pump the breaks and hope you get to where you want to be. Ice and snow is going to be fabulous.

One of the criteria in moving was “enough land”. We’ve been blessed with a bit more than asking, and I love it. We are hedged in by mature cedars and our view from the front porch captivates everyone who visits. However, the land means work. It means maintenance and upkeep and planning. For us, it is a change from our postage stamp sized lot in the city. I wouldn’t change it for the world, but it’s different. We have to drive more. We travel through the rolling hills and wonder who’s land belongs to who? Is this open space or property? What lies behind that group of trees? Even our little century home is visible now from the turn — our lonely streetlight illuminating our wrap around porch through the now barren trees along the roadside. It looks like a postcard – and I am grateful.

Our country stretches almost 6000 km east to west. It’s huge, but did you know that about 80% of Canada is uninhabited. Okay, we got snow and ice up north, which is why most of us are along the U.S/Canadian boarder, but 80% of barren land is phenomenal. My rolling hills are nothing. I wonder if that statistic includes owned land without housing – like farmer fields and the like, or if it is truly “empty”? Just ice floats in the frozen north?

We were discussing the story of Abraham and Sarah on Sunday and I began to wonder about Genesis chapter 12. God tells Abram to leave everything he knows and go to “the land that I will show you”. Adam and Eve were given the garden to look after, too. How many times do we see and hear God saying go here or there? Even in Revelation do we hear about a new earth. The Bible is full of discussions about land. God made this earth and its vast pockets of land for us to enjoy. In fact, He promised it to most of us. It’s work. I wonder how we will fair at clearing our brush and maintaining our gardens next year. Then there’s Abraham and Lot who got promised a whole nation!

Photo via Canadian Cycling Magazine

How we have failed to take care of our blessings. We’ve poisoned so much of our good land. Not only with pollution and environmental disasters, but our human nature has ravished Earth with war and destruction. Winter makes my neighbourhood dull. I cannot imagine raising my children in bombed out buildings and charred streets scattered with broken glass. Or cesspools of filth where poverty is so evident. I don’t think it’s the way God designed it to be. No, not at all.

And so, as I make my daily drives from here to there along the rolling hills of countryside, I must take time to pray for those whose view is not so pretty. The ones who have been given land and abused it. Or those who are trying to brighten it with gardens and wildflowers. Or those who work tirelessly to provide my food. Have you ever stopped to think about the land beneath your toes? Mine is about to be covered with a layer of snow. Whitewashed clean to make me think: “How pretty!” Until I curse the pile and pull out the new snowblower to give it a test run.

Persistent

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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.

Photo by Dastan Khdir on Pexels.com

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!