Tag Archives: jesus

A 6 Week Look at Advent: FREE!

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Greetings! Welcome back! Well… I hinted at it on my socials, but likely didn’t promote it as well as I should… but we have an exciting few weeks coming! It’s time for another collection of blogs centered around a single topic!! Yes, we are going to spend the next few weeks with a “theme”. We’re going to dive in together to another Advent Season with a slightly angled series of posts. Honestly, a purely selfish move on my part: one because I’m finding posts hard these days and need direction, and two, because we’re going to run the series in our small group and thought, “Hey, I’m doing the prep work anyway, why not follow the theme?”

So here we go! Now, you will know that mittonmusings.com has done several Advent posts in the past (go ahead, search ’em up if you wish!) and I promise not to deviate from the style you know and love from me, but hold on to your hats as we dive in to a little study together. As I said, I take no credit. Since you know I am {ahem} frugal, I needed to find the cheapest study to plan from. And free is the cheapest, so it’s the one I searched for and found. However, I don’t want to be accused of not giving credit, so I’m going to link the full online book HERE so that I can give the credit where credit is do. Of course, it will be my own musings about what I learn, so take what you will from it all! Happy studying!

Now. Normally, I would not be thinking about Christmas yet. Good grief, we’ve just had a time change, leaves are still on the ground, and we’ve barely hit November… but I’m taking the bull by the horns and jumping in early. So, let’s prepare for the Christmas season together, shall we?!

As many of you know, creatures are my thing. They have been for years and years. I am sure my mother went out of her mind every time I brought home another “pet”. The newly hatched ducklings I brought home from school for the weekend (without her permission), the injured birds and frog collections every summer. The caterpillars I tried to raise into moths. The ant farm in my top dresser drawer (which was just a pickle jar where I threw random ants in in hopes they would survive). Then came the various aquariums. Cats were also on the list. Then as my own family grew, we started with the attempts at breeding show cats (it didn’t work). Then the youngest became quite successful at her side hustle breeding domestic rats. (Yes, they are a thing, yes people keep rats as pets, yes, we did well at it). And now, here we are at Itsnottafarm with a flock of chickens and the hopes of pet goats.

Along the way, I’ve learned a little about genetics. Genealogies are important when you are breeding livestock… or show quality pets. Colour links, pedigrees, family trees, behaviour, “stock”. Now that we’re out here among the farmers, I see auctions and cow shows and goat shows and qualities of eggs and meat and all that agricultural stuff. Believe me, it’s a whole other world with its own learning curve!

This little guy looks just like his dad!

And then, of course, I am at the age where my own brood is growing. Our grand baby is going to be one year old soon! Time flies! That, too, is a whole other world — when your kids have kids. Or start talking at you late at night about their worlds. About real world issues and family dynamics and friends and parties and “adulting”. In some sense, I’m not ready for it. Yet, time has a way of thrusting such things upon you, and you get pushed into it ready or not.

So. What on earth did that little rant have to do with our Advent Study? Well. Lesson one begins with the genealogy of Christ in Matthew 1. A long list of names showing baby Jesus’ “pedigree” if you will. His earthly genetic make up. Proof of His existence. Our first lesson draws us to look to the past before we can look at the future. Like a good working border collie, a puppy’s history will give us a glimpse into what his future will look like. A fast runner? A smart, obedient dog from good bloodlines? A fancy rat with black eyes and a curly coat? Those genetics are the ones you want to carry on.

But here’s the kicker. Matthew includes some interesting details in baby Jesus’ genetic analysis. Our book breaks it up into: Title, descendants and structure. For time sake, we’ll simply make a few conclusions. The title of Jesus’ name, His claim as Messiah, the Chosen one, indicates that He has fulfilled the Promise of the ancient covenants. He was not just a lowly baby: He was the promised King. Then, unlike our prized pedigrees in agriculture, Jesus’ line of descendants includes a mixed bag of people. Some “black sheep”, shall we say? Respected Jewish prophets, yes, but shady characters, Gentiles and Heaven forbid, women! And what does that show us? He came at Christmas for all of us! Even if you think you don’t make the cut… you are worthy!! And His family tree is evidence of that. Finally, the structure adds an interesting twist. Did you notice it was split into 14, 14, 14 generations? No, me neither. Thanks to studying, this unique inclusion of certain name drops, helps us see how Jesus came for a purpose, and what His work was here on earth. He came to save us. The ultimate task.

So there you have it. I know we only scratched the surface, but perhaps it will spark you to further study, or simply a “muse” for the week. A glimpse into the future by looking a little bit at the past. Start that conversation about it with someone. Is it too early to talk about Christmas? The big box stores don’t think so, so why should we? Check back in with us here again, my friend (or sign up and get it in your inbox!) for next week’s look at Advent – with a twist! 🙂

Sounds of a Silent Saturday

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Welcome back, my friends. Apologies for skipping out last week… just wasn’t there. It was Easter and I was certainly musing, but I didn’t get a chance to sit down at the computer to write about it. So it’s going to overflow into this week. It’s my blog, I’m allowed. It’s been an eventful week this week too … two words: baby chicks! Therefore, I am a little late in posting. But: it’s my blog, I’m allowed.

Okay. Here we go. I want to invite you in to the middle of the night at my old farmhouse. I have very few neighbours. It’s not the big city. We have one streetlight, so that permeates the absolute darkness of, let’s say, three o’clock in the morning. I’m lying in bed awake, as some women of my age do, listening. The chubby dog takes up half the space I have allocated myself and I pull the remaining covers up over my shoulders. It’s chilly, but that’s okay. The dog snorts. I hear myself and the hubby breathing. My eyes are closed and block out the streetlight. I listen again.

Photo by Kseniya Budko on Pexels.com

During the day, our old farmhouse creeks and we hear the wind outside. Our neighbouring cows are loud most of the time. The occasional car, truck or farm vehicle zoom past our front yard and kick up the dust – the dog barks at the slower traffic. Up until recently, Morris our rooster could be heard. (It’s a myth that roosters only crow in the mornings. That crazy bird yelled all the time at us!) However, I’m sad to report he’s been missing now for a few weeks. I’d like to think he was heroic and was “taken” fighting the whole time to protect his ladies. Even our buddy down the road commented he hadn’t heard him lately and kinda misses him. Enough about that sad event. Moving on.

Back to three o’clock in the morning and the snoring dog. Imagine you hear a gurgling like a giant belch emanating from some underwater jelly-bellied monster. That monster happens to be the sump pump located in the basement, directly underneath our master bedroom. It belches several times throughout the day and night. Earlier in the spring it followed a constant sound of rushing water as the spring melt emptied and got flushed back out by the sump pump. I’ve learned to appreciate the sound of the it, because it means my basement isn’t flooding. Like the sound of generators running constantly during our ice storm a few weeks ago. Thankfully, those have stopped now, and we are back to a general quiet.

Listen again. Hushed breathing. The cat jumps down from something upstairs with a soft thud. My new baby chick birds finally rustle. I listen to hear them as I’ve only had them a few days (yeah!) and I’m still at the new momma “please don’t die” stage. Somebody peeps very softly, and I say a prayer of thanks for signs of life in the middle of the night. They settle back down in their living room home with the soft red light of the heat lamp. Silence again. Gurgle belch. Hushed breathing. The furnace clicks on briefly, with a rush of pilot light flame. Otherwise it is pretty quiet here.

I’m a week behind in this muse, but I’ve been thinking about it since a comment I heard Easter weekend. You’ve heard of “good Friday”. You may have heard of “celebration Sunday” or “Easter Sunday” or even “resurrection day”, but this year, for the first time ever, I heard someone use the term “silent Saturday”. The day between Jesus’ death on “good Friday” and rising again on the third day… the day when all was absolutely silent. Apparently, I am late to the party on this concept, for google has lots to say about silent Saturday. Not so silent on the internet. Well fine. It was a new thought for me. And so, I share it with you!

One imagines Jesus, stone cold in a dark tomb. Obviously, corpses don’t say much. God the father did a lot of “talking” on Friday, but no signs and wonders happen to be recorded on the day in between. Jesus’ followers have probably gathered, but may be hiding out, keeping a low profile. It seems like it really was a “silent Saturday”. And it seems, with some reflection on my part, and the internet sparking my thoughts, a day of quiet reflection should totally be a part of the Easter story! Life is difficult. There will be hard days. Yet, life is also beautiful, and there will be many a day filled with joy and celebration. And we often need a few silent Saturdays, to balance it all out. To question why God seems to have abandoned us. Why He seems like He is not answering our prayers. Then to reflect on His faithfulness, and draw strength for the next step. Like me listening for signs of life at three in the morning, thankful that things are still “okay so far”.

So, thanks to that friend that happened to mention this phrase to me last week… it ignited a muse that’s spanned a week! Was it news to you? Even if it wasn’t and you knew this lingo way before me, I hope it’s been a good reminder to you, to appreciate a bit of silence. May you take the opportunity to hear the gurgle belch of a good sump pump and appreciate all you have. Be blessed, beloveds.

The Beauty of Harvest Season: Lessons from Nature

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How many times have you heard or seen this verse? Especially around this time of year as the days grow shorter and the sun goes to bed earlier. Canadian thanksgiving has past and our turkey comas are subsiding. Harvest is upon us. Yet, I never fully understood it until we moved out to a more rural landscape.

Every morning as I drive in to work, the golden sun is just beginning to peak above the horizon. I’m a nighthawk by nature, but I am beginning to love the morning sunrise. The colours are fabulous, and as the dew and misty morning fog gets burned off by the early sun, it truly is a fabulous drive in to town. Along the route, I meander over the hills and valleys and the farmer’s fields all blend together with hues of brown, golds and yellows. Farm stands are filled with the last few sunflowers and wagons of squash and pumpkins add to the landscape with pops of orange. It even smells like “earth”. Technically, I suppose everything is dying… yet it is alive somehow with the change of season.

Now I certainly don’t claim to understand “the harvest”. On our drives, we marvel that some fields have already been clear cut to the ground. Others are still drying out and looking very sad up close. Our nearest neighbourhood farmer had half of his field cut … the other half sitting dormant for what seemed like days. We didn’t understand. Did he just get tired half way through? Did the machinery die? Did he get called in for an emergency? Or simply get hungry and gave up on his work in hopes for a leftover turkey sandwich? A few days later … the field was all clear. Seemingly worked on by fairy farmers in the middle of the night.

Speaking of the middle of the night, we have seen the giant headlights of monster machines working into the darkness (okay, darkness might be 7:00pm nowadays, but still.) So. What’s the deal? I have come to understand that harvesting of field crops: hay, corn, soy etc. are specialized feats of proper timing. First hay cutting and second hay have to be done dry, at certain temperatures to survive rolling into those big hay bales without molding. Soy beans are practically dead … shriveled into loose pea pods so they can be easily shaken out of their crispy casings and loaded into the harvester. Silage corn is also dry as a bone. No sweet juicy corn for the cows. Corn meal gets blown into those silos. It’s a wonder cows like it. Blech.

And the backyard farmer? Homesteaders with plots of veggies and flowers? That’s a whole other adventure. Our own garden was a disaster. The weeds took over and took over fast and furious. We chalked it up to an experiment gone wrong and just let it go. My kale is now five feet high and has all gone to seed. We did manage a few small pumpkins and some yellow cucumber like things? Plant pumpkins people… those things will grow anywhere. Vines are resilient. The other cucumber things? Not even sure what they started out as? Roald Dahl’s BFG fans will certainly label them as “snozzcumbers”. Slimy, but satisfying. I’m sad my strawberry plants are buried under there somewhere. There’s always next year, I suppose.

And so, we return to my muse about the verse in the gospels. Farmer’s fields are Huge. Backyard gardens are a lot of work. Trial and error have developed into perfect timing over the years to create “agricultural science”. Specific machines and gadgets that help with this or that. Measuring devices for moisture measuring for peak harvest timing. And then the labour. I don’t think a single farmer can harvest acres and acres on his own. Are their groups for these things? I suspect they share equipment. No one family can purchase those mortgage breaking pieces of machinery and survive can they? It has to be a group effort.

Snozzcumber anyone??

Which makes me think about the point Jesus is making in the verse… those plants grow full and expansive and wide on their own. The world we live in contains vast numbers of hurting, helpless people just trying to survive. No one has to “cultivate” wild weeds. They are doing just fine out there … in fact, they are flourishing. Pumpkins grow in the compost pile. Fed by the manure. Can you imagine what would happen if people took the time to truly cultivate the world around us? To nurture and feed and encourage one another to fully grow and bloom where we are planted?

There are plenty of people who need our love. Plenty of people who need God’s love and guidance. The fields are limitless. The weeds are thick. Those of us who are trying to do good in the world and live by His principles are few. Our task is hard. There are no fringe benefits. Only the fruit we collect. We go out into the pasture like “sheep among the wolves” (we’ve learned about predators out here too… they are quiet and sneaky and hide among the shadows…). So, please, encourage your fellow workers. Lend your expertise. Share your equipment. Put in the hours. Volunteer your time to be there when the time is right. It’s not an easy job…. but it is worth it. When your storehouses are full and you have an abundance of joy for when winter hits … your efforts will be rewarded with the peace that you can make it though the ‘leaner’ times in life.

I can drive up and down the hills every morning and marvel at the fields ready for harvest… and think how beautiful they are. Yet, I must remember to pray for more workers to do the hard stuff… and encourage those who are trying. For they are few and far between. And if you are one who is out there driving the tractors late at night: thank you. I’ll meet you at the compost pile for a snozzcumber snack.