Tag Archives: faith journey

Unpacking the Laundry: Silly Sock Insights from Everyday Life

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Welcome back to another musing about seemingly ordinary things that lead to the extra ordinary thought of the week. The weather has certainly been getting cooler. I can’t believe that soon the snow will fly and I’ll be writing about getting stuck in snow drifts again. We closed up the pool for another season… I say “we”, but the hubby did most of the work. We just pulled and secured the tarp. It took less time this year than last, so we must be improving our technique. My pallets are still sitting on the driveway. I did finish staining the porch pew and a chair (one to go!) this week, though. I say, do you have to rake leaves if you live in the country and nobody really cares about your lawn? Sigh. So many mundane things to do.

One of those is the never ending laundry pile. Why? Why do we have so much laundry? There are four adult people living in this house. The dog rarely makes any extra laundry. Why are there so many towels? Who is using pool towels when the pool hasn’t been used for weeks? Nevertheless, the goal this weekend was to get through the piles (and piles) of laundry. I didn’t count how many loads we did, but the machines were running non-stop. We finally fluffed, folded and put away the laundry! Gold star!

Who is still using the beach towels?!

How come we don’t give out gold stars on chore charts for adult households? Perhaps we should implement that as acceptable once again. Bonus points for matching the sock bag. I have a “sock bag” where all the lost socks get dumped. This weekend I purged the sock bag once again in an attempt to get those bonus laundry points. Am I alone in this? Why do we keep mis-matched socks until they die? Most are perfectly good socks. Some in that bag are not good at all, and they are likely in that bag because I have tossed the holey partner long ago. I am sure there is a sock in that bag from when my youngest was about five years old… it certainly is cute but won’t fit anyone. For some unknown reason, I put it back in the bag.

Now, I am all for reuse and recycle, and believe you me, I have searched lots of ideas for single socks… but who wants a sock puppet to take to school when you are eighteen and the sock is a nylon dress sock with pink flamingos flocking it? The eldest of our kids has a sock obsession. She has a sock with every character, food group and funky colour. She no longer lives at home and the flamingo socks do not belong to her. I rest my case.

Still, I promised supernatural from the mundane… which leads to this week’s musing. As I sat on the living room floor surrounded by my mismatched sock collection, I thought about God up in heaven sorting out all His people. Have you ever thought about God’s collection of people? Some are “holier” than others. Some colourful. Some fuzzy, some knee high long, some short ankle sock with sports logos. Some are practical and keep you warm. Others are nylon with pink flamingos that are all fad. Like socks, we often get separated in the wash. We loose touch with those who are like us. We start out as a great pair, or a complete package of ten pair, fresh and new from Christmas morning, ready to last all year.

The Lost Sock Bag

Then. We get grass stained, dripped on, sweaty and overworked. Stretched out to the point where our elastics fail and we slide down inside the winter boots of life – defeated. Or tossed aside in the lost sock bag. For some of us, that’s the end. We’ve done our job to its fullest and God says, it’s okay, it’s your time to go now, let a fresh pair take over that stinky job. Or like that five year old’s pink sock, you get put back in the bag because although your job may be done, you are celebrated for the memories and make a mom smile at what was once. It’s a funny feeling when you find a bunch of matches in that pile, though. The adrenaline rush of the housewife who finds a full cotton pair of sports sock with not only similar stripes but the same stripes and logo on heel and toe! Those socks get put in the keep pile with big plans for a full day of toe tapping work ahead!

I know, it’s a silly muse. Socks. Faith journeys. Everyday life. Yet, it’s real. It’s a thing we can all relate to, and I hope that you’ll take a second look at who you’ve been perfectly matched with, and know that that person was hand picked out of the pile for you. And if you are still waiting in the bag, your time will come. Or if your time has come, know that you will be remembered for your crazy flamingo memories and your cozy winter morning snuggles. Happy laundry day, everyone.

Emotional Lessons on Faith from Chicken Keeping

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Another beautiful Tuesday here in sunny Ontario, Canada, and another thought for you from my little piece of the Internet. We’ve just celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving, and all the fall activities and sights and sounds are upon us. They say the colours are a bit muted this year, so I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m not so sure. Around here, the golden fields are rich in the sunlight, and I am reminded to be thankful. There’s lots of fall thanksgiving, gratitude, and blessings posts here at mittonmusings.com, so if you’re looking for one of those, do a simple search and I am sure it’ll pop up for you. This week, however, was not one of those gratitude musings… well at least not in the beginning. I had a bit of an emotional roller coaster of a night the other night, so I’ll share:

As you all know, the chickens here are the main attraction. They are the reason I dragged my family to the sticks to make a living. You’ll also know that we’ve lost a few to predators. I think the risk is worth it, so I continue to free range my girlies. It’s fun to watch them chase the bugs (and frogs and mice…). It brings me joy. However, the last time we were away we lost three to (what we suspect is) a coyote. Three is pretty devastating when you have a small flock, so a few weeks back we went about replacing those hens. Now, I am new to this chicken tending thing and have only ever raised day old chicks. Only this close to winter, chicks are harder to find and keep. The big companies don’t sell them and they will go outside too close to colder temperatures, so “teenager” chickens were the ticket. “Pullets” in the chicken keeping world. So, several weeks ago we brought home three new girls (hopefully girls!).

Travelling home with three new teenagers who are all wet because they dumped their water!

Then came the process of quarantining, integrating with the existing flock (the pecking order is a real thing!) and getting them to trust me and bond and all that good stuff. The bonding is a little harder with pullets because they are already fully feathered and didn’t spend any time with me in the house. They were able to go straight outside. Which means they don’t know my voice yet. They haven’t fully learned all the routines yet. They don’t trust me yet. Which is where my story begins.

A few nights ago I went out to put everyone to bed. The older girls were safely tucked up on the roosts already. The nights are getting darker earlier and I missed “dusk”. It was already dark… and the new girls were no where to be found. The hubby and I checked every bush and brush. I called and climbed. The new girls have been wandering a bit farther and farther from their coop as they gain confidence … but they did not recognize my voice.

I second guessed my whereabouts. I was home all night. Did I hear anything? I didn’t see anything. Did the dog bark unusually during the evening? I should have gone out before dark. I should have spent more time with them before letting them free range. I don’t deserve pets. I’m not worthy of animals, I’m no farmer. I dragged the whole family here for nothing… And the emotional spiral down begins. Then the tears. The hubby says “They are just stupid chickens” — not worth crying over. Yet, us girls go there in the middle of the night when we are upset. They don’t know me yet, and it was my fault!

My emotional breakdown was real, but unnecessary, and totally unwarranted, not only because it isn’t totally true, but because the next morning when I went out, three fluffy, buff coloured heads poked out from behind the bushes and looked at me. We had looked there. Twice. Even that morning they didn’t come running to greet me. I only noticed them after I heard the bushes rustle. Then, of course, I called and offered treats and goo goo voiced at them as prayers of thankfulness flowed and the begging of forgiveness for taking my lack of pullet training for granted. I’m such a basket case some days.

Safe and sound and learning to come when called!

In John 10, there is a strikingly similar story that Jesus tells about sheep. It was such a vivid parallel to me! It tells us that the sheep only recognize the voice of the good shepherd. They don’t recognize the voice of the thief that comes in the night. The one who comes from the back door only to prey on them with doubt. Only the voice that they trust (and recognize) to keep them safe will lead them to the rich green pastures. Or in my case, the warm and shielded chicken coop. Needless to say, I am working on my pullet bonding these days.

Are you there, my friend? Do you recognize the voice of the good shepherd? It takes time. It takes work. It requires trust to be built. You must learn the routines. Go back and read the story. It’s a good one. I’ll be back again next week with more thoughts on this faith journey and how God is showing me through crazy chicken keeping how our faith gets lived out on the daily. We’ll catch up soon.

Unfinished DIY Projects and Reflections: Another Day in the Life

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Well my lovelies… I’m sitting here on another random Tuesday, trying to come up with something to write about before putting on a pot to boil for spaghetti dinner. It’s a cool, damp day and it’s been a slow one from the start. I slept in too late. I likely spent more time on the internet than I should have. I soaked in the bath way too long and got all wrinkly. Time seems to be stuck again. The weather’s been fabulous for October and so projects keep getting dreamed up. Unfortunately, none of those projects seem to get finished. Currently, the pallets are still sitting in my driveway, and I decided to stain some outdoor furniture instead. Then, of course, it rained all morning and increased my drying time. And I forgot to clean the entire piece before I started at the back, so now will have to put off the front until everything is completely dry before I can hose it down again to wash up the front. I’m new to this staining thing, but I like it. Patience. That’s the ticket, right? True artistry takes time.

Started staining my porch bench

Luckily, I’m frugal (read cheap). So most of my inspirations have to be as well. Which, come to think of it, might not be ideal either. I think I can do it myself for cheaper, when sometimes it just pays to put the money in for a “professional”. Did you know you can paint a fabric couch? So if you buy a cheap but sturdy ugly patterned one… Anyway, here we are with another post going nowhere. There’s been a lot of moving parts on Itsnotta farm lately, and I am not sure where it’s all going to end up. Half finished projects and a pocket full of dreams?

Speaking of pockets, guess what happened to me yesterday? Collected eggs in the pocket of a sweater… and forgot them there. Which reminds me, I have to do some laundry. And there are dishes in the sink. But. Full stop. The kids are safe and well fed. I connected with a friend today who needed me. The hubby went to work at a stable job. The rains fell and watered the ground. I chased my free ranging chickens back home from the neighbouring farm field where they were taking in the bounty of the land. I smiled because I have them, and the land they roam through.

Canadian thanksgiving is coming up soon. We’ll be feasting as usual. We’ll likely complain about politics and chat about movies. We are truly, truly blessed. I’m pondering that today. Counting my many blessings. Knowing that each dream I conjure up is because I am comfortable enough not to have to worry about basic necessities. For this, I must learn to be thankful. Thankful and grateful that God has placed me here in this time and place with these people to love. So much of our world is dark and dismal. Even in abundance, there are those who are so lost.

The girls are back home, and the porch needs decorating for fall, but I am grateful.

You have heard me say it many times before, friends. Our faith journey must extend beyond our own little world. We must touch others. My projects will get done. Eventually. The dishes will be there when I am ready. We’ll find uses for the pallets. More importantly, I will love my friend. My grand baby will be prayed for. My family will know they are loved and I will be there for them in the future. No matter what the future holds. And we’ll be here for you again next week, too, my beloveds, as we travel along this journey together. So maybe this post doesn’t have a deep thought, or a significant musing. There’s no theological connection to some profound enlightenment. Maybe it’s just me going through the moments of a seemingly meaningless day and discovering there is meaning in it all. Yes, if you stop for a minute and look at the much bigger picture, it all has some meaning. It has to. Therefore, I’ll be back again next time, and invite you along, because, maybe you’re like me and just trying to juggle it all with a bit of dreaming on the side.