tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23567402513600069202024-03-05T22:42:46.082-05:00the inner workings of a shellfish"what's he building in there?" - tom waitswonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.comBlogger288125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-7379326285486294872016-12-12T08:14:00.001-05:002016-12-12T08:14:38.303-05:00joining the greats and the secrets.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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writing is intimidating. for some time now, i have been trying to muster up the confidence to write a book. a collection of my meandering of the heart, scribbles of victories and deep failures all wound up in the glorious grace of God.<br />
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but i can't do it. it's too big. it's overwhelming after i read writers like my good old friend and confidant, c.s. lewis (secret: all my c.s. lewis books have my deepest secrets written in the margins). my writing is too cheap and surface when i mirror it against <i>florence and the machine </i>lyrics<i>. </i>it's boringly ordinary when i talk to t.s. elliot about it. all my writing sounds like <i>blah,blah,blah</i> after awhile. and as such, nothing has been written.<br />
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my fear of ordinary. my fear of flopping, and worse, my fear of success has scared me plumb out of writing all together. hence the long, empty silence. <i>what if everyone actually read what i wrote? that's terrifying! </i>i'd way rather write in my anonymous shell, i love my <a href="http://snailskin.blogspot.ca/2011/01/inner-workings-of-shellfish.html">inner workings of a shellfish</a>!<br />
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every time i try to put pencil to paper, fingers to keys i hesitate. i think too much. i even occasionally start to shake at the bigness, the potential, the privilege of the gift.<br />
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i've always been more comfortable with the lucy maude montgomery approach. that my writing would be uncovered at the bottom of a box of old photographs, mulled over and celebrated long after i was gone. so i wouldn't have that long nail-biting season waiting for the wave of disapproval and opinions to arrive. somehow it would be more appropriate, less prideful and far more meaningful. i'd have no problem joining the closet writers club, the <i>secrets</i>.<br />
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but the real problem is those hymn writers. they ruin you for all else. with the air of christmas come all around, i listen to those age old, holy oracles of faithful perfection being sung. the golden threaded testimonies of tremendous trial turned truth. their unrivalled depth and purity, a treasure chest of revelation. their rich heritage handed down over generations of impact. they have furnished my faith with the extraordinary with absolutely no ambition for fame. they are legends. and it's their legacies that i could only dream of joining one day. the giants of faith. the <i>greats</i>.<br />
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but in the end, any writing that is any good at all, small or big, points to T<i>he Great</i>. i recently heard a sermon on the arts and faithfulness. he said that all art originates from the original Creator and that all art belongs to Him. the only difference is that some art is faithful and some is not. some art is faithful, without even knowing Who it is giving it's due to. but regardless of it's awareness, art was created to give due to the Creative One.<br />
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and that is all i want to be. it doesn't matter if it's secret or great, just faithful. faithful to the One who creates in me and creates all around and creates boundlessly without end.<br />
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Creativity Himself.<br />
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<br />wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-68185955384991914782016-09-28T11:10:00.000-04:002016-09-28T11:10:05.491-04:00parenting & the determined<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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everyone tried to warn me. tried to articulate the extreme tensions & intense emotional spasms that were on my horizon when i first got pregnant. 'don't worry' they said. 'don't worry. you may never wear anything but pajamma pants for the rest of your life but you'll survive'. but i wouldn't listen. i thought they were all neigh-sayers & negative nellies trying to rob the most glorious fairy tale that the experience would be for me.<br />
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they weren't wrong. but they weren't right either.<br />
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parenting is not for the faint of heart nor the weak of will. it <i>is</i> the most difficult thing i will ever cultivate in my life. it is so intrinsically apart of me now that i cannot separate when it ends & i begin.<br />
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initially, with my flippantly, overconfident first-timer attitude, parenting was something i wore on the outside. a mostly exterior experience that fit into a neat & tidy compartment. something i did & was, just by rights of having a child. something i could still idealize with, flaunt & control. and then i had the twins & parenting tried to creep into the deepest of depths of my soul. it found things in there that i didn't even know existed. it started messing with all my emotions & leaking all over my leg in seepy, soiled diapers, darkened the bags under my eyes. it came skulking for me in the night. taunting me sometimes all day & all night with the need for change. and then the utter chaos of parenting overtook me entirely with the birth of my last cherished babe.<br />
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they weren't wrong to warn me. but they weren't right either. i will not be merely a survivor of parenting like the rest of the lot. the long days & dark night aren't just there to survive... they are there as a gift of growth. like a spur in my tender side, they are there to train & test me into thriving, not just as a parent, but as a great many things. for what is parenting but pursuing transformation & change in the heart of every untouched, hidden emotion & motivation. it has been the greatest audit & inventory i have ever know.<br />
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never has there been such a universal experience that so adamently demands the brand of patience made out of wrought iron and holiness produced from so much flesh purging. but i am resolute that the gut wrenching contraction upon contraction of excruciatingly monotony of everyday pandemonium in familial life will give birth to something in me. i am nothing that i thought i was at the start. i fall short everyday of the woman i want to be. the woman i can & will be one day. but that is what why the <i>determined</i> will see the fruit of their labours.<br />
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it's like panning for gold. scatter amount the debri of everyday chaos is sprinkled gold dust. hidden in the burnt boiled egg dinner disaster is a little treasure of who i am & who they are becoming.<br />
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and i wouldn't miss that adventure for the world. :)<br />
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<br />wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-55369776732885579232016-09-28T10:47:00.000-04:002016-09-28T10:47:43.420-04:00a table called faithful.on my way to the feed store, i delightfully stumbled upon a garage sale. a real one! not one of those antique stores mascaraing as a garage sale, chuck full of overpriced sentimentality. but a real nickel and dime garage sale. with beautiful, old smelly books and boxes of aged wonders.<br />
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she said it was all her dad's old stuff, from a time long before hers. most of it from his old barn. it didn't suit her house anymore, she was going for more of a nautical theme.<br />
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i bought a dresser, an apple box, seven baskets, a whole box of salt and pepper shakers, a trunk, three pictures, an old window, a framed barn shingle, an antique hand warmer and an ink well for, wait for it... $80! i had overestimated the amount of car space my unexpected visit had demanded but squeezed every last trinket in with barely enough room to shift. and then i saw something i couldn't forget. not even after i pulled out of the driveway, not while i shopped at walmart and picked up the feed.<br />
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and so, i was forced to go back, with my fingers crossed that it hadn't been sold. and there it was, sitting at the back of their garage with a piece of green painters tape with $100 written on it. way out of our imaginary garage sale budget and against my garage sale code of ethics of never spending more than $50 on any piece for sale in someone's driveway. but it was absolutely extraordinary. it was nicked and dented, coffee cup stained and paint splattered, burn marks and a HUGE hole right in the middle. it was a table. a table that hadn't been manufactured or artificially distressed. it was purely a product of a long, unlavished life. i couldn't make a table like that any other way.<br />
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i bought it. i had to make an extra trip to pick it up, with seriously lacking space from my first visit. and on my way home from picking up my prized treasure, i was trying to justify the cost in my head to steve. and i was going over how you can't buy this kind of aged perfection in a store. think of all the things this table has seen and lived through. it's not a fake. it's just so real. and then it came to me. i'll name it faithful. a table called faithful.<br />
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because even through all the bumps and banging of life, it stayed together. it just reminded me so much of God's faithfulness. just an ever present unyielding. it never disintegrated. it's legs stood solid. it has a huge hole in them middle but never mind that. more than that... it's absolutely, exquisitely beautiful and completely unreproducible. that table holds a story that only that table lived. a product of time tested over and over again.<br />
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and so this table has become a remembrance alter to the Lord's faithfulness. He is and has and ever will be faithful, ever true. ol' faithful now sits in our entry way and everyone notices it. a living piece testifying, reminding, proving.<br />
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may the story of the Father's faithfulness to me be written on every door posts we have. <br />
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<br />wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-40831487618078021922016-09-28T10:32:00.000-04:002016-09-28T10:32:08.257-04:00the power of a smile.i grew up in a small, countryside high school. only 84 students. most of whom had evolved together since the kinder years. <br />
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somewhere between the kinder years and my high school years, i lost my smile. i can't remember the exact moment i misplaced it. i don't even remember knowing it was missing for so many of those years until our little, intimate high school got a new principal. mr. tim taylor was his name.<br />
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he was different. he noticed me. he saw me and he peeled me out of the wallpaper.<br />
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he won me with a smile was all. i remember the day. i had to hand in a form in the office. i shuffled it across the secretary's desk, avoiding all eye contact and turning quickly to disappear. but he looked right at me and said, '<i>where's your smile? the world's not all that bad, is it</i>?" i awkwardly forced a half-hearted smirk and left. he had no idea the weight of world i was carrying but somehow he made it just a little bit lighter, even if it was awkward.<br />
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the next time i passed him in the hall, he stopped me and asked me where that smile had gone again. i smiled a little bigger this time. and a very strange feeling began on the inside. like warm camomile tea welling up from deep down. i can't really describe it, even all these years later. maybe it was relief. maybe it was hope, that the world wasn't all that bad after all? hope invincible. hope undeterred. i let it rise up from some indestructible force inside and my countenance changes. i let it radiate out my eyes and i am saved all over again.<br />
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i still get that feeling. whenever things get really bad, and my soul dips low. when i'm feeling blackened and bruised inside from ugly confrontations or perceived rejection, i'll find myself in some public place, at the gas station or grocery store, i swallow my need to wallow and instead put on the biggest smile i can find. i smile so big that it's almost inappropriate, not at all paying homage to whatever carnage i've just come from. i joke with the cashier about something or am eager to help someone with kindness. and they look me in the eye and smile back big. it's then i find my smile muscles haven't atrophied and as long as i can still find that light hearted, humour-filled smile, then i'm going to be ok. and my face assures my soul, i'm going to make it after all. :)<br />
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that mr. taylor, who i will never get the chance to properly thank, made me a cope-er. a heels dug in, roots down deep hope-er. he helped me find my smile and that smile, has saved me over and over again. he helped me turn my insular world outward. helped me focus on something other than myself. and for that, i am ever grateful. ever cheerful.<br />
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"a cheerful look brings joy to the heart." </div>
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{proverbs 15:30}</div>
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"be joyful in hope, patient in affliction." </div>
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{romans 12:12}</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "candara" , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 24px;"><br /></span>wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-19648662625071418242016-09-09T21:17:00.000-04:002016-09-09T21:17:14.949-04:00just let it go. {a song diary}songs can come and find us sometimes. they hunt us down late at night because they know we need them. this is one of those.<br />
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it's a song about leaving. about memories. letting heavy things fall and tossing broken pieces to the breeze. about walking away and not turning back.<br />
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a song about repentance too. about letting God be God, and me be me.<br />
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i just ever so suddenly looked down to find my clenched fist holding on so tight to something i don't need.<br />
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this song is my cleaver, separating my now from not so long ago. helping me say a sombre goodbye to the years of the past.<br />
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it's time.<br />
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time to just let it go. <br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/GsPq9mzFNGY" width="560"></iframe>wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-12005658219698131442016-08-09T01:33:00.001-04:002016-08-09T01:33:51.768-04:00becoming.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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it's been a year. a long, complicated year. how do i paint all the twisty, ugly turns or all the overwhelming, life-changing victories, all the kinks collected in a suddenly aged body or the indestructible smile pasted on my face. how could i ever accurately represent all that this past year has become?<br />
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well, a writer has her ways. hidden in the back of my kid's colouring books, scribbled on scraps of paper and junk mail envelopes... i did my best to capture at least a glimpse so that i would one day, maybe once the quiet of winter sets in, i could sew it all together in a quilt of remembrance. the story of how i dug down deep to the grittiest grit, how i got my stripes. how i grew and how i became.<br />
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it may take me awhile yet to unravel all the glory and grit, but oh how i have missed writing. when writer's can't write, they read. and i love reading the story of <i>the velveteen rabbit,</i> so much so that it was one of our first christmas gifts to our kids, well before they could ever understand. it is a beautiful picture of restoration. the quote below is mounted on our living room wall so i'll never forget why i sometimes feel shabby or loose in the joints,<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>'it doesn't happen all at once,' said the skin horse. 'you become. it takes a long time. that's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. but these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.” </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>~ the velveteen rabbit</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;"><i>cheers to catching up!</i></span></div>
wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-40344601643762144252015-08-08T22:11:00.001-04:002015-08-08T22:11:35.089-04:00building a dream.<br />
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this farm has been more work, more frustration, more blood, sweat and tears than a human would think they could take on. but it has been the most divinest & beautifulest of dreams realized at the exact same time.<br />
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as farmers in a small community, we learn from each other. we learn how to farm smart so we can enjoy more. this is why we love permaculture. it's less work. less money & a whole lot more fun... at least in theory.<br />
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tricks you'd only find in the backyard of another passionate farmer like putting goldfish in your troughs to prevent algae from taking over or putting big rocks in the bottom of the water dish that the ducklings drink from so we have no more unfortunate drownings or free choice baking soda in the goat barn to prevent urinary tract infections (my vet doesn't believe me...thinks it's bogus, but i swear by it!).<br />
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one kindred spirited farmer once passed on the most cherished piece of advice we've gotten so far, which he said he inherited from his mentor before him. "<i>pick the breed you like the look of best, it makes it easier to feed in the dead of winter</i>." pretty things are easier to take care of. beautiful things are what you take pride in. from our speckled easter eggs, to the smattering of our chicken flock to the sheen of our ducks, to our turkey fanfare & guinea fowl pin feather, to the eclectic coats of goats, to the colouring of our spotted pigs, the unfurled, wild manes of our mares & geldings. we like beautiful things. we love quality things. we know this often means heritage breeds that are difficult to find and grow much slower products than commercial breeds (even if they do overall create a much superior product). but it takes much time, commitment & vision to cultivate beautiful things.<br />
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we love what we're building for our family & for our lives. it is an absolutely unique story made of the colourful tapestry weaved out of colossal rookie mistakes & divine luck (and a lick & a promise)... and the horizon only amplifying the weight & measure of our original vision.<br />
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it's hard work. but beautiful work. the work of building a dream. <br />
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<br />wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-18344904565554859712015-08-08T07:00:00.000-04:002015-08-08T22:24:05.717-04:00before the curse.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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i was folding just one of the small baskets of laundry that had avalanched down the stairs from the mighty mountaintop of camping laundry that awaited me at the top of the stairs, when i had a thought.<br />
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there was absolutely <i>no</i> laundry before the curse. adam & eve were butt-naked. there wasn't a single matchless sock in the garden of eden. not a loincloth. no coconut bra in sight. nothing. which logically one would deduce that laundry then is absolutely either a result of the curse or the very curse itself. i believe the latter. ;)<br />
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my children love to be naked. it's a nice perk of not living in the city anymore that they can run free & wild & naked. i actually mandated their partial nudity after i found them soaked up to their necks in pond muck while wearing their very expensive school uniforms. i said, no more clothes! only undies shall be sacrificed to the pond yuck. and a small nudist colony has emerged as a result.<br />
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after a subsequent conversation with kai, while explaining the societal expectation to remain fully clothed while in public, he asked me if we would <i>have to</i> wear clothes in heaven. and i thought, i have no idea but i will find out!<br />
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and then, in my wanderings to answer such an awesome question, i found this gem...<br />
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" eve's curse: in relation to her husband, her "desire will be to" him, an unusual hebrewism that means an ambition to control, manipulate and possess someone (in it's occurrence in genesis 4:7). this is having led her husband into sin, she must now live with a continuing urge to subordinate him to her wish and will. his reaction will be not only to resist this takeover but to use his greater strength to rule her. male domination is the inevitable result of this struggle for supremacy of wills. in genesis 3:16 lies the real explanation for the centuries of exploitation and suppression of women, against which feminism is validly protesting. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
incidentally, it also means that a husband that is hen-pecked has chosen to capitulate, usually for the sake of domestic peace. the advent of rule to describe marriage was not the introduction of subordination but the exaggeration of it (in much the same way as pain in childbearing was increased). responsibility for direction in the male became reaction into domination. the male-directed garden is now a male-dominated jungle. each sex sees the other as an object (rather than a subject) to serve its own purposes. </div>
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this situation can be remedied only by Divine grace, by redemption rather than by legislation or revolution. God's strategy is to plant on earth a community of men and women who live as adam and eve did, in his creational order (except for nudity, which will never reoccur, even in heaven)." </div>
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~ david pawson</div>
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wow. both kai & i were a little disappointed about the last line of that one. but the beginning & middle, magnificent. i feel like my whole life, society & culture has been illuminated, dissected & explained to me. how incredible is God's plan for redeeming marriage... not sure what His plan is for redeeming laundry but i'm sure He has one. He redeems <i>all</i> things. ;)<br />
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p.s. i eased kai's disappointment by reassuring him that although he may not be naked in heaven, he could likely ride a shark while eating chocolate chips well past bedtime instead ;) we conclusively decided that a bathing suit might be a good idea anyways whence riding a shark on the riptides of heaven with a handful of chocolate chips. a little less squeaky, squeaky. ;)<br />
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p.s.s. this must be the most random blog post you've ever read. they are but the desperate ramblings of a procrastinating woman about to take the plunge into a neck high laundry swamp for an 18 hour shift of folding. and they were naked no more...wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-49213701756994893732015-08-07T21:36:00.004-04:002015-08-07T22:03:04.945-04:00guardian dog & guardian gates<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5XDpg-Ox7ugHfPtWl7mp-TsrnTOmCTHLLEjw7gn5RkCl72SXh61rLlTDCGiheAY10IqhRahD1-nVpWFPEGx4DznV-qrptCOkcDHOFlToIYNKPuLoifcUa_L5Kc-8sfiKybkZcxrZpxc/s1600/11800031_10155837518615582_7040924299136567822_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5XDpg-Ox7ugHfPtWl7mp-TsrnTOmCTHLLEjw7gn5RkCl72SXh61rLlTDCGiheAY10IqhRahD1-nVpWFPEGx4DznV-qrptCOkcDHOFlToIYNKPuLoifcUa_L5Kc-8sfiKybkZcxrZpxc/s320/11800031_10155837518615582_7040924299136567822_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
indiana joan is our new livestock guardian. i guess, more like potential livestock guardian as she is only six-weeks old. that might seem a little young to be leaving mama yet, but that's what is typically suggested for working dogs to bond with their protectorate.<br />
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her upbringing will be so very different than any other dogs we've own before. she is a working dog. her primary purpose is to fiercely guard both the property, our family & all of our livestock ranging from the tiniest chick to our two-thousand pound horse. she is nocturnal and will take down anything from a rat to a bear to a person with bad intentions. as such we have to treat her differently right from the start. she never comes into the house & will never leave the property. she is not my running partner & will not be joining us on long horse back rides. we have to teach her where home is and what the boundaries look like so we don't encourage wandering but rather a very loyal homebody. from day one, she sleeps out with the livestock not her friends. any posturing, pestering or playing with us or the livestock is strictly discouraged. she is to ignore the livestock completely. she can never become too over familiar with what she is protecting, or she will end up killing it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYGYEP8l6hDkYq1-LQrYBhjqba0Me3pZi8rQFDjHEb0ELEOrD3aqTP6VCQG0VHCdk8iE766RdZbqm65Ysb1QykoO9Xt55k2BG6d5SOPMrcwvWIuVvlaOjfCMX3HbcTLBsO1bFpCaThBY/s1600/11825092_10155837519115582_1524793813431613007_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYGYEP8l6hDkYq1-LQrYBhjqba0Me3pZi8rQFDjHEb0ELEOrD3aqTP6VCQG0VHCdk8iE766RdZbqm65Ysb1QykoO9Xt55k2BG6d5SOPMrcwvWIuVvlaOjfCMX3HbcTLBsO1bFpCaThBY/s320/11825092_10155837519115582_1524793813431613007_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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as i have been studying this new world of bringing up a world class guardian, it has got me thinking about my guardianship. little things that i have let within my boundaries. postured and played with negativity & selfish indulgence, gotten way too familiar with complaining and bitter diatribes. i've let little mice & seemingly small vermin scamper in, simply because no alarm was raised about them being in my garden. maybe because those little rascals have burrowed deep down into lots of gardens & didn't seem that out of place. in fact, they're commonplace & they've opened the gate to bigger uglier pretators without me even noticing.<br />
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in order to be a good guardian, indie has to know what belongs to us & what does not. what she's responsible for & what animals are intruders. she primarily learns this by exposure to what belongs to the farm, the spirit & the smell of it. she has to know what she's for, before she can know what she's against.<br />
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i know i have fought hard for my revelation of faith & confession but i suddenly find myself having become too over familiar with such prize processions, not valued their guardian qualities as i should have. gotten lazy about my borders and my mouth has become like an unguarded, overflowing gate. and i can feel it. after a not so uplifting conversation or after i've allowed my mind to wander negatively into something, i feel all slimy. like i was promised one thing & then was robbed when i wasn't looking. all those negative thoughts, promising to make me feel better. promising justice & then stealing my peace. my faith. my joy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">big paws to grow into</td></tr>
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i want to take my guardianship seriously. know my gates & borders well. not leaving my post or becoming relaxed no matter the context. no sleeping on the job. for i'm sure we all know how hard we've fought for the gems we now hold and not worth sacrificing to old-run-of-the-mill apathy of in the time of peace.<br />
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indie's paws are huge even though she is currently quite small. but she will grow into them & her working role & so will i. wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-32776902210448456802015-07-16T12:10:00.002-04:002015-07-16T12:10:54.092-04:00the gospel mean and wild. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKxmcJ7Y_YHFsxrBVbnxPzMyc-WK7Dr_ymgJ6RSH9Rl0CtoksnRyZ05PJgSqS4kNw2mvWF36Qvgdm7tgMo7yLF0rUgCtCidS-fMWkhM7fQEqAmX2zYuvieRb6cKPdD1Ccu5fhAGJUKds/s1600/eva.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKxmcJ7Y_YHFsxrBVbnxPzMyc-WK7Dr_ymgJ6RSH9Rl0CtoksnRyZ05PJgSqS4kNw2mvWF36Qvgdm7tgMo7yLF0rUgCtCidS-fMWkhM7fQEqAmX2zYuvieRb6cKPdD1Ccu5fhAGJUKds/s320/eva.jpg" width="240" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"it is by warfare the soul makes progress." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">{abba john the dwarf}</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"it is the essence of the sin of the garden to re-imagine God as the mythical tolerant god." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">{dean waldt}</span></div>
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<br />
the more my kids develop as individuals, the less useful i find <i>gospel presentation</i>. those cute little Bible board books & flannel graphs, although have their place, have become increasingly limited in their redeeming power as my kids age. more and more i find my fingers scrambling for tools of <i>gospel application</i>. time for them to meet the real person. the real power and truth. Jesus.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"it is a spiritual gift from God for man to perceive his sin."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">{st. isaac of syria}</span></div>
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with a constant tornado of evolving carnality needing to be diffused, i find myself ill equipped in really digging to the eye of the storm or the root of the problem. they were born in a clump. and their issues seem to clump and interweave and feed each other so you don't know when one ends and the other starts. sibling grappling, truth spinning, boisterously brilliant self-expression, they keep me on my toes. instead of the clear communication of "no" to their brother, they catapult their message from the banisher high dive landing their feelings in a graceful bellyflop on top of their unsuspecting sibling. instead of coming clean right away with the truth that they had indeed pinched their sister's bottom to get a reaction, they spin an elaborate story about how their fingers, possessed with injustice, took it upon themselves to sheriff the situation and how they really had no control at all in making them stop. they have creatively re-invented discipline into discipleship for me. taken the words <i>punishment & penalty</i> from me and inserted <i>equipping but costly consequential life, learning</i>. i am not raising mindless lemmings and my goal is not obedience. it's to know Jesus. uncut, unedited and in full. Jesus redeemer & rule breaker. Jesus, the untamable God. <br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">" on the whole, i do not find christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. does anyone have the foggiest idea of what sort of power we so blithely invoke? or, as i suspect, does no one believe a word of it?" </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">{anne dillard}</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"woe to the person who smoothly, flirtatiously, commandingly, convincingly preaches some soft, sweet something which is supposed to be christianity!"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> {soren kierkegaard}</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XCkZgLAtzv4SEMDE9d7iPhlYodjeLReQrVVYA-xzqMJYmYnRd2RcFEHMDp3qZi95jMb_ch5uNyViSgIJqwOFnPxoMbX6EHAkPkA2-tBqxRDjgVxM3QpnmlsBK6op_ChLkDzvUe8kZZw/s1600/girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XCkZgLAtzv4SEMDE9d7iPhlYodjeLReQrVVYA-xzqMJYmYnRd2RcFEHMDp3qZi95jMb_ch5uNyViSgIJqwOFnPxoMbX6EHAkPkA2-tBqxRDjgVxM3QpnmlsBK6op_ChLkDzvUe8kZZw/s320/girls.jpg" width="240" /></a>i don't just want to keep my kids in line or keep them from making mistakes & spilling milk. kid's are professional mistake makers and this is how they learn. i want to be more about the motivation and less about the don'ts. more about that complicated but tremendous muscle, the heart. less about the surface observation of improper behaviour. but this is a tall, tall task, one with no match to it's intensity. until i realized, Jesus is not some passive meek person. He was kind and good but He was also dangerous & unpredictable. our christian culture has emasculated Him. watered Him down to some trickling brook not the earth trembling, tsunami that He is.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"at first i thought, <i>it's ok. nothing bad is going to happen</i>. a few seconds later the wave hit the road, and i thought, <i>now i die</i>." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">{tiina seppanen, tsunami survivor}</span></div>
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maybe it is just the beginning of summer transition. maybe it is just their combined ages, i'll never know. but i have found myself upping the anti around here. instead of a sweet, sensible talk about lying being unkind, i find myself intensely describing that lying is like playing for the other team. satan's team. it's dressing in clothes that are not God's and it's helping the other team score a goal. so which jersey are you going to wear, which team are you playing for? or instead of a repeated discussion about the choices we have been making, the story of one of the wilkins' infamous uncles who could not abide within the parameters of the reasonable law & always had to have it his way, and decided he just did not want to get along with anybody and he now spends his days a small cage called prison, with no friends or fellowship, gross food and no choices left to make because they had all been taken away from him. do you want to follow him? and when i look into their saucer-sized eyes, i can see it. i can see the gospel being worked into their consciousness & growing into conviction. and although this may seem a bit much to an outsider looking in, it is the yeast getting worked into the dough. it is the kingdom becoming beautiful revelation to them. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"we are fonder of consolations than we are the cross."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> {teresa of avila}</span></div>
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<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqrOI1Ed1LTYz3AZZ_a_XVYqRY1JoyuxL5LiCFSRFXakmyJjhm7t-mZSkLB9izc55dC8QLgS4GNuAOX3wR2vT7AUAZf1xylEnJMxxx7ADWeWB3eIma0VOXdRjnMxsETDOMPmq5sYS0Ms/s1600/sisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqrOI1Ed1LTYz3AZZ_a_XVYqRY1JoyuxL5LiCFSRFXakmyJjhm7t-mZSkLB9izc55dC8QLgS4GNuAOX3wR2vT7AUAZf1xylEnJMxxx7ADWeWB3eIma0VOXdRjnMxsETDOMPmq5sYS0Ms/s320/sisters.jpg" width="320" /></a>and sometimes the kingdom does come with the whisper of a prayer or the cuddle of comforting psalm but sometimes it also comes with a crashing confronting force. you cannot have one without the other. He is not a cuddly, soft blanket anymore than He is a raging wild fire here to consume it all. He is equipping just as much as He is demanding. He is more than our fluffy board books. more than our sing-songs. more than we can imagine. and i don't want to forget that, as parent or as their sister in Christ, who is only two tiny steps ahead of them on this journey of sanctification.<br />
<br />
this is the beginning of the good news of Jesus.<br />
this is the gospel mean and wild.wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-4264221465274886812015-07-04T22:26:00.000-04:002015-07-04T22:37:27.394-04:00the blind will see, the lost is found {part 3}it is true that everything always looks better in the morning. especially once one realizes they haven't permanently lost their sight. God took pity on me and the blister had disappeared but so had the goat. for good it seemed.<br />
<br />
not a footprint. not a broken branch. no indication of where she had roamed off to, steve canvased the neighbourhood by four-wheeler. all. day. long. one neighbourly farmer, in particular snickering at my dedicated husband's perseverance.<br />
"she's gone for good i tell ya! she's dead! there's no way she made it through the night!" he taunted only to be followed up a few hours later by an inquisitive text asking if we had found her yet.<br />
<br />
and then we got our lucky break. as dusk was quickly settling on the open miles upon miles of back fields, steve's eye caught sight of that sorry goat's rump foraging in the far back corner of a corn field, on the very edge of a trepadacious wilderness. we flew at his beckon to help corral her. he had her backed against an old cedar rail fence that separated the farmer's field from the deep & impending ravine. thickets of fierce shrubbery & prickly vines swelled & swayed against the fence, surely discouraging anyone's passage through. i silently climbed the fence further down, parting the wilderness with my hands, to block the back way out just as insurance to her capture.<br />
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mom & steve slowly inched towards the now shaking fugitive, talking sweetly so as not to alarm her. we had found her, we all smiled. we could see her with our very eyes and were inches from touching her. suddenly, she took flight over the fence & the thick shrubbery swallowed her up as she came crashing through other side of the bush towards me. i fought hard to swim through the raspberry thicket that entrapped me, missing her completely as she bounded down the ravine, cannonballing into a swamp ditch with a enormous splash.<br />
<br />
my heart now thudding in my chest, i knew i could trap her in there. the ravine turned into more of a deep, steep ditch that streamed slowly out to the main road. i could hear steve now position the car on the road waiting for the moment she would emerge if i could push her forward. the steep banks and bramble hid my hovering presence as i followed the wet jingle of her bell closer and closer to the road until i tripped on a rock and fell with a thud and she stopped dead. i had given myself away. i cautiously peaked over the bank and she looked straight at me and i knew in that very moment i was going to have to pull off that move from swiss family robinson where they wrestle the snake in the river. i poised and catapulted my body hard over the bank, belly flopping flat out in green swamp just inches from that dreadful goat. i scrambled and she scrambled up the other bank, getting snagged & cut by every kind of branch and bramble imaginable. she momentarily snagged her collar on a low hanging cedar and i desperately clawed through the mud & vines, grabbing her by her back leg just as she cut herself free from the cedar and bounded over the fence and far away, her bell angrily jingling all the way off into the maze of corn fields. it was dark now and the mosquitos were thick and swarming. i dared open my mouth, although my legs had become an open feasting ground. wild celery stalks grew taller than my head, flapping in my face as i scampered fast enough to not lose the sound of that bell. i tried not to think of the consequences.<br />
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i ran hard and fast, starting to panic that i was alone now in the deep darkness and wouldn't be able to find my way back until i stumbled into the neighbours cow field. their three teenage sons had now joined the search party with their four-wheelers ripping it up which rightfully frightened the cattle who would stampede from one end of the field to the other without warning. i felt like i was living some impossible video game, except without the superpowers. soon i had lost the sound of her bell and i felt sick to my stomach again at the thought that our farmer friend might be right.<br />
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just as i was losing hope, i stumbled across a fresh trail where the wet dewyness of the grass had clearly been disturbed. all those episodes of mantracker came fresh to my memory. i followed the trail sprinting with renewed spirit, zig zagging this way and that. i was so focussed on following the trail that i forgot to look up and ran straight into the butt end of the most enormous, very white tailed deer. the deer bounced off indignitly and i, in complete & utter shock, clutched my chest and fell to the ground crying uncontrollably, letting the mosquitos have their way.<br />
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nothing but the sound of coyote howls, calling for her, filled the moon-lit cold air.<br />
we were never going to find her and i knew it. i briefly weighed up the horrid pros and cons of shooting her. and decided against it. and picked myself up off the ground and started to make my long trek back.<br />
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as irate as i was at that goat, the nothingness of having lost something so beautiful and so treasured filled my chest with tightness. i would never have another like her. and the fear in her brown bulging eyes bothered me. i had chased her right into the wild wilderness that would take her life & i would never see her again.<br />
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once i made it back to our neighbours house, now lit up like a fortress, i realized how close she had come to home. what a dark tragedy, i thought to myself. to come so close to home and paralysed with fear, turn the other way, walking straight into the mouth of her real enemy.<br />
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i couldn't give up on her. my heart just had to have hope that she would come back to us by some miraculous circumstance. i couldn't bare surrender to the alternative. with the teenage boys still ripping around on their machines, their parents assured us that they were having so much fun, although their skill & technique in goat herding was questionable, we said goodnight and with our head hanging low went home to bed.<br />
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'Father, is there any way to get her back?,' i prayed as i closed my eyes. i know she's just a goat but He reminded me of a song i used to sing to our kids. it goes a little something like this...<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Say you had a hundred sheep</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">and one little lamb got lost</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">in the dark, in the cold, far away from the fold</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">What would you do?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">What would you do?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">You’d say go get the lost one</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">And leave the ninety-nine</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">That little lamb is lost</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">And that little lamb is mine</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Bring it home on your shoulders</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">And call up all your friends</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Rejoice with me, I’ve got my little lamb again.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Rejoice with me, I’ve got my little lamb again.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Say you had ten silver coins</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">And one silver coin got lost</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Your treasure, your wealth</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">In the cracks, in the filth</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">What would you do?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">What would you do?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">You’d say go get the lost one</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Turn the house upside down</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">That silver coin was lost</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">And that silver coin is found</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Light the lamp, sweep the ground</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Then call up all your friends</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Rejoice with me, I’ve got my silver coin again.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Rejoice with me, I’ve got my silver coin again.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">If God had a child</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Who wandered far astray</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Who was sad, broken hearted, whose guilt kept him away</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">What would He do?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">What would He do?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">He’d say, go get the lost one</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">He’s who I came to see.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">He thought he was an orphan</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">But he’s coming home with me.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">The angels are rejoicing.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">The sinner is my friend.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Rejoice with me, my child is coming home again.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">The angels are rejoicing.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">The sinner is my friend.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #363636; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Rejoice with me, my child is coming home again.</span><br />
<br />
how beautiful a picture of God's love for us. that He would give it all up to find His treasure, His beloved, you and me. to come and find us in the cold, in the cracks, in the filth. to save us from the jaws of death that we so eagerly toddle towards. He snatched us out of a life full of frightened frailty, wandering through the wilderness, belonging to no one and nothing & He washes our shame & guilt far away, soothes our wounds from the wild and embraces us with arms open wide as His very own child. that, my friends, is Love. that an orphan would be called a beloved daughter.<br />
<br />
soon after i fell asleep, with the grips of hope still clutched tight in my hand, we were awoken my a late night phone call that the boys had safely captured her and had carried her back to their barn on their shoulders. they had bedded her down and other than exhaustion, she was absolutely fine & we could come and get her in the morning.<br />
<br />
and i leapt out of a dead sleep, in those last few minutes before midnight, and danced in delirious delight on our bed! my body torn and tired, i slipped into a deep sleep that night with my hand on my heart in gratitude. <br />
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the lost is finally found.<br />
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<br />wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-67427255703184694202015-07-03T14:31:00.000-04:002015-07-04T22:36:25.710-04:00the lost is found {part 2}it was her mezmerizing beauty that captured my heart and momentarily immobilized my brain. we called her "dortje", dutch for dorthey. she was no ordinary goat, and she begged an extraordinary name.<br />
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she was entirely different from Scarlett. we had taken the van which had a deeper back but she hadn't moved, curled up in the fetal position in the back boot. hadn't made a single sound. only her odor breifly gave away her presence in our mini van. one of the kids had even remarked how good she would be at playing hide and seek {which we found out was ominously prophetic}. when we got her home, i knew from my last delivery to the barn, that this may be an issue. my mom hugged my waist to anchor me to the ground this time, still sore from my last dragging. Dortje, even though half the size of Scarlett. jumped out of the back with twice as much pazzaz and for a few good paces dragged both my mom and me, with our heels dug in. it took both of us and all of our might to steer her into the barn but we did it. and we were proud.<br />
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normally, a new pastured or free range animal on the farm would need to stay cooped up for a week or two until they got used to this being home but Dortje had been so anxious she had stopped eating all together and we thought, wrongly, that being in with our other does would help her settle better. it worked for a few days. but in those few days we had also attempted to milk her which she had apparently felt a catastrophic injustice to her personal space.<br />
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it was on the eventual eve that i gave up milking the fiery wild-ling, that she decided she was not coming into the barn for the night. it had been pouring rain all day and everything was slick and muddy out in the pasture. i called to her & tempted her with grain but she was not interested in interacting anymore. even Scarlett came out & tried to reason with her but it just made her run faster and further.<br />
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i tried to cloak my plans for her capture by looking off casually into opposite direction while i slowly walked behind her, attempting to push her forward towards the goat barn. all the other goats with their heads taking turns bleeting out the barn door for her to seek asylum. and she flew fast and hard against the fence that bordered the busy road momentarily pausing for dramatic affect like she was going to jump if i dared step any closer. i held my breath like i was the one that was going to get run over if she did pop over that fence. in one such pivotal pause, she took a sharp turn and bounded towards and into the little goat door opening into home free! and i gunned it to close that little flap door before she could escape. as i slid in the manure slip-and-slide that had accumulated outside the door at mach 3 into the side of the barn, i frantically reached in to slam the door. to my surprise, she rocketed out of that little door, right over my forehead and trampolining off my mid drift. and i lay there. just for a moment. with my head propped up on a muddy rock. flat out trampled in the cold, cold mud as harsh rain drops & tears pooled on my cheeks. Scarlett & Jemimah peaked their heads out cautiously to see if i was ok. i was not ok. and i was gonna get that son of biscuit of it was the last thing i did. i slowly sat up and gritted my jaw.<br />
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it was considerably darker by now and i could barely make out her deer like frame in the back distant corner of the field. i marched off into the wind and rain with determination that she was not going to get away with this. she crashed through the creek that cuts our pasture in two and i too flung myself, unsuccessfully, across the creek inches from making it to the other side. i stood there for a moment as snails filled my shoes and sunk deeper into the mud and let out a exasperated cry! the horses had now taken notice and sauntered over to check out what my problem was. but they were no help. no help at all and scared Dortje further and further into the back corner.<br />
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i collected myself and crept as quiet as one could with snails squeaking in their crocks and a ridiculously over sized raincoat and pants so soaked with rain and mud that they has lost their will to stay around my waist. i crept into the pitch black as close as i possibly could to the sound of that dinging bell around her neck. she was walking the back fence looking for a way through without getting electrocuted. and i sneaklily snuck until i knew i was close enough. i knew i could grab her and pounced hard on her which scared the living life out of that goat. slick as slug from the rain, she popped out of my arms dragging me over the electric fence with her. the blast of electrical shock stunned me so hard i let go and she was gone. her bell bouncing away into the thick, thick bramble of our neighbours 200 acre backyard.<br />
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in sheer horror i bounded my soaking, sopping pants in a hysterical fit all the was back to the house, screaming for help! by the time i made it to the house, i collapsed completely out of breath, trying to explain the urgency of the situation to my mom and steve, who had thought i had been serenely milking the goats all this time.<br />
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we threw the dog & some rope into a vehicle and scoured the street behind the field that she'd escape into. we searched until 11pm, knocking on neighbours doors to let them know about our fugitive situation. and then we stopped. my mom wiped the goat footprints off my forehead and said, it's time to leave it until morning. she made me a small bite to eat after i had changed into dry clothes.<br />
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as i cried my woes and worries about finding that horrible, terribly, preciously beautiful goat, i noticed that a big blister started to rise under my eye. wild celery is a real problem in this area and if you get in your eye, you instantly go blind with no hope of recovery. in despair, i declared i was probably going to go blind, flopped on my bed and fell fast asleep until the early morning hours.wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-20029146281799656782015-06-30T08:30:00.000-04:002015-07-03T14:20:16.073-04:00the lost is found {Part 1}<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I have tracked through woods deeper & darker than Mantracker has ever seen, wrestled my way through swamp thickets, slipped & slid up and down muddy creek beds, trudged thru neck high hog weed, sprinted across never ending corn fields, climbed electric fence & barb wire, inches from being trampled by a herd of cattle, had an unfortunate exchange with a very large deer & have eaten more Mosquitos than the suggested daily protein intake of a large man and all this for.... a goat, who's bell can still tauntingly be heard just far enough in the distance to make you crazy. The two day saga continues...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">We have been trying to streamline our herd of dairy goats, after committing to just about one of every breed last year to figure out which we liked best. We'd decided on Nubian for their delicious, ungoaty milk and friendly dispositions & goodness forbid their dual purposeness. So I listed the precious goats we were to cull this year to make room for a few more Nubians in their stead. All this is made easier only by having a vision of the path forward of the goats that would be replacing them. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I had found a unusually shy but wise lady near Kingston who was downsized her own precious herd of dappled Nubians. They were the most beautiful collection of goats I have ever seen. They had polka dots everywhere. You couldn't tell where one goat started and the other ended. Like a great big Jackson Pollock painting on the run. She had a few for sale. As I was trying to get close enough to look at each one, the whole herd would flux and fly away from me wildly climbing walls to get out of my reach, with the exception of one. One large doe just stood right next to me and stared me right in the eye. Not timid or scared one bit by my strange presence. The lady said that doe was reluctantly for sale. Her name was Scarlett and she was her favourite. But she had aged and the lady knew it was time to sell her. Scarlett had the personality and the teats we wanted in our herd but she wasn't as dappled as the others. There was another wild-ling in the bunch that had the perfect dappling for our breeding program but clearly had never been touched by a human. I have always been terrible at deciding these things, which is why I usually take someone with me to push me on one side of the decision or another. I asked the lady who was selling them which she would take. She said she'd love for me to take Scarlett just because she knows she would be going to a good place but that it was my decision. After way too much pondering, I chose Scarlett, still not confident about leaving the other beauty behind. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">It immediately became apparent that Scarlett had never been on a lead before & was very forthright about her opinions about being taken from her herd. I had unfortunately taken my mom's SUV which was high from the ground but with much awkward wrestling, she reluctantly was loaded in the back. Despite her initial dissatisfaction with riding in the back of a moving vehicle, she settled right down. She stood the whole way, up and down the winding roller coaster back roads of Westport and beyond. With her head over the backseat watching Livi and Kai's every move. We had just come from Livi's Preschool Graduation and both Kai & Livi had been playing with balloons in the back which Scarlett had found amusing. But it wasn't long before I heard Kai whining uncomfortably in the backseat. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Jn2gSQZYGpuy2WEzJq7v_irKG88QIeDU5hbwDUB89Lp3GVwUVmaJS9rho_sDmWV9dBAIfy6UMLi_y-1HMBdLuUJz-BNJMiXW8z1ZaL-gv9WkXgYjs-djY0H8a7frDE2bbb6H6A1ZjN4/s1600/10561805_10155699976430582_7101512623845214233_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Jn2gSQZYGpuy2WEzJq7v_irKG88QIeDU5hbwDUB89Lp3GVwUVmaJS9rho_sDmWV9dBAIfy6UMLi_y-1HMBdLuUJz-BNJMiXW8z1ZaL-gv9WkXgYjs-djY0H8a7frDE2bbb6H6A1ZjN4/s320/10561805_10155699976430582_7101512623845214233_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">"Scarlett's dropping her boogers on me & she won't stop!" he tattled. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">We must have had the air-conditioning too high. He tried bending himself out of the way of her sniffling snot but Scarlett had found such solace in his big mop of wild hair that the booger drippings could no longer be avoided. I handed Kai the Kleenex box and he sweetly blew her nose for her. The three of them became the best of friends back there. So much so that it appeared that one of the two munchkins in the back had unclipped the dog leash that was to keep anchored to the back of the car. But she didn't jump the backseat, just faithfully stood the whole way to her new home. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">She had been so chill the whole idyllic way home, that I could not have predicted the drama that was about to ensue once I opened the back hatch to bring her into the barn. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I pulled up close enough to the barn and unloaded my two littles with their helium balloons happily in hand and gave them instruction to stand right next to the car until Scarlett was in the barn. I opened the hatch, quickly re-clipped the dog leash and let out a sigh of relief. Phew. That was close I thought. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">And then, with absolutely no warning, Scarlett leapt out of the back like the car had just exploded. Unaware of her new surroundings, flew into the side of our old pumphouse with me on the other end of that nylon leash. I smoked my shoulder, and lost my footing over some forlorn logs around the back of the pumphouse and she dragged me. Dragged me hard. Through the grass. through the cedars and just about onto the road before I regained control. I was slightly impressed that she could drag me, a full grown woman, so far, so fast. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmUOArcXh14LRdJTIUT8kotD_qyz5O2tLvdVMLqQVfx_6cF1aDF45JS3nOVyc-GINBC5CyAAcDHQl8HsgnxbInx8zlrZaAvcLjMR4wKhdBD02YE-n4idKhnd34IQYDapXmmlEQFcZkeHk/s1600/11542040_10155699947450582_4049813626527186755_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmUOArcXh14LRdJTIUT8kotD_qyz5O2tLvdVMLqQVfx_6cF1aDF45JS3nOVyc-GINBC5CyAAcDHQl8HsgnxbInx8zlrZaAvcLjMR4wKhdBD02YE-n4idKhnd34IQYDapXmmlEQFcZkeHk/s320/11542040_10155699947450582_4049813626527186755_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Livi screamed with horror having just witness the whole terrible event and let go of her balloon in sheer shock. She was now bellowing her sorrow upon realizing her balloon was gone. Kai happily fascinated with the dancing balloon over his head hadn't notice a thing. I wrestled that goat as hard as I possible I could. With all my might, I dragged and pushed and pulled that goat while yelling my not so sympathetic comfort to Liv who, devastated, had lost all of her life's dreams in that balloon now swirling high in the sky on it's way to the moon. I finally got Scarlett into the barn and took the kiddos inside for their overdue nap.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Later that day, I could not get that other beautiful goat out of my head. I humbly asked Steve if there was anyway we could afford to get this other goat, as dappled goats are quite rare and sell quickly. He said yes, despite the fact that we hadn't yet sold any of the goats that we were replacing. We rubbed our pennies together and I took my mom and all the kids back the next day to grab the other, more wild, less better tempered goat. And that is when all the trouble started. </span>wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-58072396219208592282015-04-09T21:31:00.000-04:002015-04-09T21:31:03.775-04:00churchill, act 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vqn8xkxEMbLgSZ9UMLgE3RAT28KJK7yiAt774ODhAr-JHZNFSIRbSM8EP3o6YN5m6qnt6_2oMQOhUlMwPSFgO6W8Tz6Aw8FV5pTvoMxsLMea5PW0nDBOEJ1xmfVmJdWehzlz4loffT8/s1600/photo-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vqn8xkxEMbLgSZ9UMLgE3RAT28KJK7yiAt774ODhAr-JHZNFSIRbSM8EP3o6YN5m6qnt6_2oMQOhUlMwPSFgO6W8Tz6Aw8FV5pTvoMxsLMea5PW0nDBOEJ1xmfVmJdWehzlz4loffT8/s1600/photo-29.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>we were sore in spots we didn't know we had from <a href="http://snailskin.blogspot.ca/2015/04/never-ever-never-again.html">the prior day's events</a>. i had nervous butterflies in the pit of my stomach all day, knowing that there was no getting out of it, no getting around it. churchill had to get in that trailer & i was going to have to convince his 400lbs of nervousness that he wanted to get in that steel box of scary.<br />
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we had actually traded that steel box of scary for a big trailer of luxury...and hopefully, much more secure than the last time. churchill isn't wild or mean. he was just scared. i probably would have mustered superhuman strength too to get out of a steel shaped coffin hurdling down the road at what felt like mach ten.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xL16iUFySFL6Gw4tR841cTG0TZgvdfQ6Fc73B27aAWLAVpjIcHNdwcSdicU9FGtUDm4bXo5d1VWcoJvrlFwXGtHD5RDKib_9ecRetLLstssB3qUJ_oRPSjooYSzTrw-bXoBrbxxUjtQ/s1600/photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xL16iUFySFL6Gw4tR841cTG0TZgvdfQ6Fc73B27aAWLAVpjIcHNdwcSdicU9FGtUDm4bXo5d1VWcoJvrlFwXGtHD5RDKib_9ecRetLLstssB3qUJ_oRPSjooYSzTrw-bXoBrbxxUjtQ/s1600/photo+2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>anyways, feeling a growing sense of confidence about our new plan in the big spacious trailer as time got closer to the inevitable, we tromped back out to the barn with authority in our boots. patty o joined us for the spectacle. all the chickens gathered to peek through the cracks in the wall, all ready for the big show. we gradually took apart the grand fortress we had built the night before to keep him safely tucked into bed. it looked like we we holding a demon possessed something in our self-contructed penitentiary (they don't teach you that on pinterest!). <br />
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the plan was to back the trailer right up to the door of the barn, close the gaps with wood and ease him on with the lure of fancy food like banana peels & good old goat's milk. pat was to hold the stall open and block the gap, mom & i were to coax him on with our charm & wit. steve was to stand just outside of the trailer, in case churchill somehow muscled his way out either of the sides as well as run for any last minute crazy ideas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Nx_WCHPvwL8Q7QVE0piI6HpLhKXhcu3MjSEUYcOUQvIgYGkW_zodAiniNPA-2R5zoIJQ0r2bnpdbyrAcL5TuYhdbFItEaJ_0qbTu31aflS21GwQHrmTpSBz5Ym6jHZqMkb5D74TR2IY/s1600/photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Nx_WCHPvwL8Q7QVE0piI6HpLhKXhcu3MjSEUYcOUQvIgYGkW_zodAiniNPA-2R5zoIJQ0r2bnpdbyrAcL5TuYhdbFItEaJ_0qbTu31aflS21GwQHrmTpSBz5Ym6jHZqMkb5D74TR2IY/s1600/photo+1.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>well, we sweet talked him up and down to no avail. we left trails of food onto the trailer, just out of reach so he would have to step up to get it. he was uneasy. it could have been the sound of the noisy contractors chainsawing and banging away behind us or the constant helicopter drills landing and taking off at the nearby military base. or the chickens heckling him from outside or it could have been the ever fresh memory of yesterday. who knows. but he wasn't buying our most generous offers. we gave him back scratches in all his favourite spots. i even pulled out some pretty awesome baby massage moves (i knew they would come in handy someday... never in a thousand years thought i'd be using them on a pig but c'est la vie). he was thankful for the massages but not enough to get on the trailer. after an hour of whispering sweet nothings into his ear, i reached for his love language.... bread... a pig after my own heart. i dipped it in goat's milk and paraded it around the top half of the trailer like it was champagne. he just looked up at me, with those sweet hazel eyes full of pity for a woman who would go to such lengths for a mere pig. i looked down at my phone and we had a whole 8 minutes before i had to leave to go get the kids from school. my mom reminded me of an old tarp trick we had seen on pinterest. i didn't recall the tarp trick exactly, but in a bit of a hurried panic pretended that i did and ripped a blue tarp out of a pile of construction built up against the house. i marched with gusto back into his pen & pulled out the tarp behind him and started flapping & shouting & flailing like a lunatic, loudly proclaiming sounds which have never had such utterance before in an attempt to scare the life out of the stubborn hog. it didn't work. i did scare everyone else though. after my grand production, steve poked his head around the trailer and matched by the confused looks on both pat, mom & churchill's face, said "um, what are you doing?". "i thought this is what i was supposed to do with the tarp" i said, meekishly, suddenly realizing that wasn't the tarp trick they were thinking of. i recovered the small scraps left of my dignity, folded the tarp into a tarp wall and with mom's assistance, walked behind churchill as a united effort and he trotted right up onto the trailer without incident in a matter of seconds. i secretly don't think it was the tarp wall trick that convinced him, but sheer respect for a woman sold out to her pig. we slammed those doors fast and buckled them tight. and we all let out an enormous sigh. steve pulled forward slowly, so as not to spook churchill to busting clear through the wall again, only to realize the van was stuck. we had unwisely tethered the trailer to our mini van and that poor van, after trips with bucks and goats and chickens, not to mention the four kids, had seen better days. we still had our balled winter tires on and they weren't fans of the barnyard muck. steve quickly mcgyvered a plan of using the old jeep to tow the van that was towing the trailer. it worked and he was on his way... with his rifle this time, just in case we had any highway emergencies. the trailer swayed back and forth, with churchill's uneasiness the whole way but steve made it across the finish line and united churchill with his new harem of sows.<br />
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still ever so nervous, i reluctantly left to go and grab the kids from school. it wasn't until i was stepping out my car next to professional parents stepping out of their spotless suvs, that i realized i was in poopy coveralls, smelly rubber boots and yet again pig plop splatter all over my face and then it hit me, that churchill was gone forever. that stubborn but loveable pig was gone and my heart hurt for just a moment.<br />
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i am relieved that churchill made his final destination but i do find myself strangely sentimental about him. steve say churchill's landed the jackpot dream job and i know that it is true. his new owners were super impressed with his manners and his beautiful colouring and they swore up and down that he had to be at least 500lbs. their instant love of him made it easier. i don't know why i sometimes have such a hard time letting go of things but i just do. it can be hard to say good-bye sometimes, even in the best of circumstances.<br />
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after all, he really was "some pig".wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-21694410713778216542015-04-08T22:05:00.003-04:002015-04-08T22:31:45.869-04:00...and this little pig went to market and this little pig stayed home<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00dX4s7ANd26Iq-uearDimFq_-qHAUn9thXUhziwTNK17dNYzYART-m7peWuyLam_UOH5DsPfml1ZD9TCw81CHlhrvXVbgkH_4G7rbT4katOQsnDGYDKAGZELRY7MGTZlOgiHsKBbStE/s1600/11149389_10155350556785198_1968749662756468034_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00dX4s7ANd26Iq-uearDimFq_-qHAUn9thXUhziwTNK17dNYzYART-m7peWuyLam_UOH5DsPfml1ZD9TCw81CHlhrvXVbgkH_4G7rbT4katOQsnDGYDKAGZELRY7MGTZlOgiHsKBbStE/s1600/11149389_10155350556785198_1968749662756468034_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
this is my vow to the earth and all above and below that i will never, ever again trust a pig as long as i shall live. ever. i will never commit to transporting them, fraternize with them, deal or dabble in them ever again. and certainly never 400lb+ pigs.<br />
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churchill was the first animal to move into the farm. he moved in a month before we did. he was so small and scared but those eyes. those hazel eyes got me right from the start. we stuck with him as he acquainted himself with the electric fence for the first time. as we stood back and marvelled at our electric fence masterpiece, we flicked the switch and watched as he backed his manhood straight into the very electrified fence and then shot clear through the other end of the fence. it took us an hour to get him back in. and then repeated the whole thing the next day multiple times. but we stuck with him.<br />
<br />
we stuck with him when those boy parts quadrupaled into the size of melons & we breifly considered devising a makeshift protective & supportive bra for those bad boys as the girls became extra fascinated with them and we thought his manhood to precious to risk. we stuck with him when he decided to have pig party and rip out all the feed buckets, waterers and the entire barn wall as well as the gate too many times to count and often in -40 degree weather.<br />
<br />
but my affection for him grew as i would drive past our field to find churchill sprawled out in his glory while my mom, distracted from her fencing work, gave him a big belly scratch. or how he and major the 17h horse became best friends, often following each other around the field and found snoozing in the long bits of grass side by side. i have always had a soft spot for this pig. but not today.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3z8tp87skLKcULqZ8AZchWSpAfLgBYAa5QvPdxugKpMwNCoB6PKRK2nai2uHDj_k0bw0Tt085ydUbRGNchvxzx7EBsR5jdNBQkOjpOn4wuuPbhYxwrKeI9pPuuvTJX90Lxa6yrBMFyA/s1600/11149336_10155350556935198_3282918795152429122_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3z8tp87skLKcULqZ8AZchWSpAfLgBYAa5QvPdxugKpMwNCoB6PKRK2nai2uHDj_k0bw0Tt085ydUbRGNchvxzx7EBsR5jdNBQkOjpOn4wuuPbhYxwrKeI9pPuuvTJX90Lxa6yrBMFyA/s1600/11149336_10155350556935198_3282918795152429122_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
the time had come. he had done his job on the farm and a decision needed to be made. the freezer or the market? uncastrated pigs often produce funky meat (and i secretly couldn't bare the thought of our farm sweetheart meeting an untimely end as a hotdog) so we sold him as breeding stock. and as per his size, we included delivery, confident that my sweet, darling of a pig surely wouldn't be a problem.<br />
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we borrowed a box crate from a neighbour to load in the back of our trailer, just barely big enough. the neighbour had advised us, with a certain devious chuckle, to spend the extra time thinking out the process of getting him into the metal box without getting him too excited because if he escaped we would never get him back. we took his advice, and carefully prepared a comfy, straw filled crate with loads of favourite foods to entice him into the small space and made a makeshift but strong maze of chutes to feed him into the box, hopefully without incident.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQqysTBsWpLah5qRTfndDbW2qSsa4BFs3acuhXSjbjvab2KWMX5t_ImxJYF3D4i1svJ7qrGb7ih9Ca6Dn1LkXoDQtIrlRNf9ymZCY_Ax9f6aBhys9W1U0VSQBavB1PV9Q13WrxOzPEac/s1600/154580_10155350556575198_3152341359300636153_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQqysTBsWpLah5qRTfndDbW2qSsa4BFs3acuhXSjbjvab2KWMX5t_ImxJYF3D4i1svJ7qrGb7ih9Ca6Dn1LkXoDQtIrlRNf9ymZCY_Ax9f6aBhys9W1U0VSQBavB1PV9Q13WrxOzPEac/s1600/154580_10155350556575198_3152341359300636153_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>our first job was to separate him from the girls, who had made a colossal sized lake of poo-mud all around the gate, so thick that i sunk helplessly to the top of my boots upon entering. after several unsuccessful attempts at keeping the other three keen and affection girls away from me and the gate and getting churchill through the gate, my mom, always up for an adventure, jumped in to help. i transformed into a ninja giving warning kicks constantly into the air to keep the girls away (worse than kickboxing bootcamp!) while she enticed him through the gate with a bucket of treats. we slammed the pen gate behind him and quickly began securing it with binder twine so the other three rambunctious pigs would stay contained now anxiously separated from there lover. churchill took advantage of our split second distraction and casually ploughed through opposite gate, over a bag of feed and into an aligning pen which happened to house a delicate duck sitting on a nest full of eggs set to hatch any day now as well as a wide open door to the wild, blue yander. i may have sworn. loudly. we both jumped into the other pen to both slam the escape door and simultaneously distract him from eating the precious mama duck right off her nest. mom quickly grabbed an open dish of duck food while speaking sweetly in high tones of loveliness & calm to cox him back through the gate. he loved her sweet talking so much he followed her right onto the ramp and almost into the box until he changed his mind. i shut the barn door, unintentionally locking my mom onto the very small ramp with churchill who suddenly realized he didn't like this plan. he tried to back through the door, which i was holding shut with every ounce of strength i had left, after ninja kicking for 15 minutes straight. he threw our side chutes with ease while steve frantically tried to secure them down. in a brave move of solidarity, i jumped the door and joined her on the very small ramp. we calmly scratched his back & sung sweet songs of his greatness which seem to make him more upset. in the most courageous, swift move i have ever had the privilege of witnessing, my mom, grabbed him by the tail and "wheelbarrowed" him right into the crate, not at all afraid of the consequences that could ensue cranking a pigs tail that high. we barricaded the crate door by laying our lives across it until we could secure the bolt and then stuffed three solid bales of hay between the back of the trailer and the back of the crate, just in case. we laugh-cried with relief. we had done it. we had done the impossible. moving a 400lb+ pig willfully into a small metal box.<br />
<br />
we drew straws for who was going to have to drive him an hour and a half away to his forever home. i lost but i begged mom to go with me just incase. i quickly ran back to the house to grab my phone to text the expectant owners that we were on our way as steve pulled the trailer up to the top of the farm gate. i no sooner pressed send when i heard the van beeping frantically. i opened the back door and out of my mouth came a sound only steve can imitate, as my eyes beheld the scene before me. steve was running for his life to shut the main farm gate and churchill had charged through the side of the metal crate and was now at large and unhappy & offended about our suggestion that we were no longer his home, sweet, home. he had a little wander here and there until he followed us like a little puppy into a nearby barn where we safely barricaded him in until the inevitable morning when we would rinse and repeat the entire charade. well... hopefully not the entire charade.<br />
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i ran back up to the house after i realized i hadn't seen our four kids in a while and upon entering the mudroom, davith met me at the door and before i could say a word, he said "don't worry mom! i got it under control. i knew it was an emergency when you screamed and i put myself in charge. i did 1000 minutes playing downstairs with them and now we are playing a safe game of hide-and-seek". i hugged that little-big boy so hard...which is when i realized i was literally covered entirely with pig plop. all over my face. all over my phone. all over everything. i scampered up the stairs to take a quick shower before making dinner. it turned out a little someone was hiding behind the toilet (she's the best at hide-and-seek so i didn't realize she was there until a few minutes had past). i peeked my head out from behind the shower curtain to say a quick hello to liv, when she said "mommy, why you earrings poopy?" and then i laughed, and then i cried.<br />
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i shook from the tip of my head to the top of my toe once i realized we were moments away from a highway disaster. i have no idea how we're going to get him back into any trailer of any sort or how i could ever again confidently transport my pig with superhero strength and talents down any road, non-the-less and hour and half into unknown terrain. but let's leave that to tomorrow.<br />
<br />
i will never, ever again... until tomorrow.<br />
<br />wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-2433968153849008462015-02-02T19:35:00.000-05:002015-02-02T19:35:00.704-05:00growing up. {letters to kai}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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you were flopping & romping all over the couch until i caught you in my cuddle trap. an old, well-worn police helmet tilted on your head. the one with the green visor that you say makes you see bad guys better.<br />
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i set you up on my lap, being sure to have hold of your ankles so you can't wiggle away. you lift the visor up slightly & squint at me suspiciously. <br />
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"kai, what do you want to be when you grow up?" i ask.<br />
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"i want to be a king so i can rule the world!" you answer with a glint of mischief in your eyes.<br />
"no wait" you add. "i want to be a prince of a school..."<br />
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"you mean a <i>principal</i>?" i ask.<br />
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"no, the prince of a school. actually never mind, i just want to be kai" you say with a big modest grin.<br />
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"well, that's a pretty great thing to be" i say. "but kai, how will you change the world as a kai?" i ask.<br />
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"well, i just don't know yet mom. but i just want to be a kai and right now i just want to be kai the kid" you say as you wiggle free from my clutches & flop across to the other side of the couch just out of reach with sheer delight stretched across your face as you marvel at your own escape.<br />
<br />
when you grow up, i hope with all my motherly ambition, that you will be a kai. a kai in all his confidence, muster & glory. that you would see things as a kai & hear things as a kai & hopefully think & talk & roar like a kai. and you will change the world, in your kai-kai kinda way, even though even you can't predict the far reaching influence of your God-given kai-ness. and i will be the proudest mama of all, that my kai is a kai in all fullness & integrity of what a kai is. and it will be my greatest privilege to watch you grow & flourish & bloom in a way that only a kai can.<br />
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and you may be a king of sorts or a prince of a school or a great many things with your vast array of besotted talents but as long as you're a kai at the same time, well, that's what will change the world.<br />
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"here and now we are God's children. we don't know what we shall become in the future. we only know that if reality were to break through, we should reflect His likeness, for we should see Him as He really is!" </div>
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{1 john 3:2, jbphillips}</div>
wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-27715869842015024072014-11-05T20:45:00.000-05:002014-11-05T20:45:55.546-05:00portrait of a farmer.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynLuqgIqg3bRBq_906THBXIW9ewKiUXzHjLI6nGy8XrADerczcjdzvPorkLd2FkKUkmFPch4YJ3O6lhe0p7GZ2sDjnJXkIMdQYg_tT1tfD0TBvZTNZbsZy29CUE-MaF5GDTDoVTi-kO4/s1600/farmess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynLuqgIqg3bRBq_906THBXIW9ewKiUXzHjLI6nGy8XrADerczcjdzvPorkLd2FkKUkmFPch4YJ3O6lhe0p7GZ2sDjnJXkIMdQYg_tT1tfD0TBvZTNZbsZy29CUE-MaF5GDTDoVTi-kO4/s1600/farmess.jpg" height="200" width="147" /></a>sower & reaper. stewarder of the land. husbandry has existed for centuries.<br />
from the moment adam & eve sinned to now, the land has needed to be worked. farmed.<br />
<br />
in this new life of ours, i got to thinking. thinking about how even though ancient in its predisposition & although it has gradually evolved into a technological science, farming is still very much the same as it's always has been.<br />
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it is the love of the land. a pluming of nature. a rich & fertile inheritance if learned.<br />
<br />
i am genuinely shocked at the range of skills needed to operate our own small & limited homestead. in the recent months, i have become a google-aholic & have pictures of leaky goat behinds in my facebook newsfeed, & researched some of the most bizarre things to ever be typed into a search box. the learning curve has been steep & even more than the physical exhaustion of working the land, is the mental exhaustion of figuring it all out.<br />
<br />
a farmer isn't just a care taker of livestock but a mathematician, a veterinary science expert, a diverse landscaper & botanist, a nutritionist & health science guru, an almanac reader, groom & stable muck, market retailer, masonry, carpentry & lumberjack, welder & electrician, jack of many trades, a great many things that i am not yet but have been attempting to grasp.<br />
<br />
perhaps most of all, a farmer is a problem solver. there is no end to the problems & challenges to farm life. and it takes a mcgyver type character to meet the function of an adept farm. it takes much confidence to back the risk of your own independent - non-google backed- solutions. it takes courage & it takes intuition not easily learned. there are lots of colossal fails & big mistakes but someone has to make the decisions & someone has to try & that is what makes a farmer. the constant trying & waiting & trying again in the face of great risk.<br />
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farmers are geniuses. they are creative, out of the box thinkers. they are undervalued, underpaid but never under worked. but they do what they do because they love it. <br />
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it's in the many of moments of hesitation i have during the day, before i let that enormous pig out into the barnyard with no real plan as to how i'll get him back or late at night as the coyotes howl too close to our precious livestock locked up tight, that i realize it takes real grit to be a bonafide farmer. it is not for the faint of heart. it is not for the princesses or the wimps. farming is for the determined & the fearless. for those who love the land they live on & the animals that love them so very much.<br />
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my mom's a farmer & when i grow up, i want to be a farmer too.wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-32174817710137896582014-10-17T06:54:00.001-04:002014-10-17T06:54:36.385-04:00interrupted. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGfMJaujW63afjwHChS_eu8o7hyphenhyphen2OjDiOL_CuOjQwBkoCN7FuZHUVoeP1hDMxOmQb-9rn2NtPpcTg_8mO_UyFplULIbixqrv4U2lwON1WzKUach78YCNoxqMmL-o9fxPzzgsjvotdJho/s1600/IMG_4981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGfMJaujW63afjwHChS_eu8o7hyphenhyphen2OjDiOL_CuOjQwBkoCN7FuZHUVoeP1hDMxOmQb-9rn2NtPpcTg_8mO_UyFplULIbixqrv4U2lwON1WzKUach78YCNoxqMmL-o9fxPzzgsjvotdJho/s1600/IMG_4981.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a> as you may have already noted, i have been a little interrupted in my blogging pursuit as of late. but it hasn't been just blogging, really it's been a whole ream of things that have been, well, "interrupted", for lack of a better word. my breakfast is interrupted. my sleep is interrupted. my sentences are interrupted. my thoughts are interrupted. most of my daily pursuits are constantly being interrupted. i might even say the word for this season in my life is "interrupted". i won't say on hold because i usually get back to tinkering with whatever it is, if it was actually important, that was interrupted by either my four young children, a rebellious animal or arduous farm task, the sudden collapse of our home as we know it from long time neglect & other such things. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(i kinda feel as though i am constantly in a triage situation. like which things is the most important for me to tackle at the moment when there are a billion things screaming my name. there is no pretty cleaning schedule on my fridge or chore list. just which thing has to get done today or else). </span>blog posts are always getting spun & evolving in my head but when i sit down to write anything, whether at 4 am or 1pm when everyone should be sleeping or elsewhere, i am inevitably interrupted. so hold on world... there is a whole lot of back logged thoughts yet to be written & caught up on particularly from this very fast paced, steep learning curve we find our family on. so much learning, so much growing, so much grace, so much God.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLeTObfTfUml7DS7jHdJRvnn-hcofNuIBxEDEZXHDog4S7I7n0WhW6SdVwV_CGnGssOc-rbvytcL24zygXrayeYZhvfJFuQpzY_j4FpYFOvz-nkxNBZ0cfnenGsYqrPPGmd44K3qv2O8/s1600/IMG_4972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLeTObfTfUml7DS7jHdJRvnn-hcofNuIBxEDEZXHDog4S7I7n0WhW6SdVwV_CGnGssOc-rbvytcL24zygXrayeYZhvfJFuQpzY_j4FpYFOvz-nkxNBZ0cfnenGsYqrPPGmd44K3qv2O8/s1600/IMG_4972.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a><br />
but as a bonifide "doer" kind of a personality, not being able to finish a task has been a difficult reality to accept. we live in a construction zone, both literally & figuratively. we're not done building character into our kids or cementing Godly values in our home or cultivating the Presence the way we'd like to or keeping that unruly attitude in check. what's worse is that when you live in a construction zone, physically or metaphorically, you are always stepping on nails or trying to come up with solutions for seemingly "no win" situations for that hole in the wall that you don't want anyone else to see because you would never want anyone to assume that this is the way your house always is or will stay. construction is uncomfotable. not seeing anything through to completion is super challenging for me. the Church isn't finished. our home isn't finished. our family isn't finished. my marriage isn't finished. i'm not finished. when all i want so badly is to finally get to hold up a beautiful masterpiece that i've worked so hard for.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bhAjzGJKRESWOaVTgsbAcR9O49B2UVg67dv3S0AuHbvfq1fAASBW4jjAyubK14wS7nvHx2zEnO8en0Sc4GfQLMXaKD4Ib0AYOSvGBjizpcR7txsh7JpkBGYzJ4iYKmhSjf4vw8VIWmQ/s1600/IMG_4964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bhAjzGJKRESWOaVTgsbAcR9O49B2UVg67dv3S0AuHbvfq1fAASBW4jjAyubK14wS7nvHx2zEnO8en0Sc4GfQLMXaKD4Ib0AYOSvGBjizpcR7txsh7JpkBGYzJ4iYKmhSjf4vw8VIWmQ/s1600/IMG_4964.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a>but i started to change my attitude about construction zones in my life when i began to see that i am <i>called</i> to change & construction. i am <i>called</i> to the undone things in life. so no use in running the other direction every time i was beyond frustration with a particular task. i realized i was far to preoccupied with the end product & could not embrace the process that would eventually, one day, get me there. embracing the process is challenging for a neat freak because, well, it's sticky & dirty & it smells & it's full of constant interruptions & perceived set backs.<br />
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but i found encouragement from the story of the little children running to Jesus with their sticky fingers & dirty faces to interrupt Him... and He let them. He let them interrupt His important kingdom preaching & teaching because they were His kingdom work. they were the whole point. so, if the God of the universe doesn't mind or even encourages the little children to interrupt Him, then how much more willing should i be? the pigs on the other hand should learn to wait their turn. :)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYd_b5cRI9vXNEkuLm67H03XmBACCBtv8qzyqVVIpMzfuvGyFdebey8FMeRIZ2J544gRVoCjPRIeWN3dT_WIA5oXjdFxcz-2WahaGtrxNBRyUDEu0_5dYA5X7op9VwaoRjnD-OWRxKPKc/s1600/IMG_5039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYd_b5cRI9vXNEkuLm67H03XmBACCBtv8qzyqVVIpMzfuvGyFdebey8FMeRIZ2J544gRVoCjPRIeWN3dT_WIA5oXjdFxcz-2WahaGtrxNBRyUDEu0_5dYA5X7op9VwaoRjnD-OWRxKPKc/s1600/IMG_5039.JPG" height="149" width="200" /></a>there is also value in "practicing the Presence" even amongst the many interruptions that may occur over a day. it's like working a muscle. and i for one am getting lots of practice keeping my eyes on Him & cultivating the Presence despite goats at my door & emails binging in my inbox & children running through the house covered in swamp muck. i've spent way to long seeing interruptions or a chaotic home as a sin when it is assuredly not. it's just young family life. and here too i can find a sweet spot in the Spirit if i chose to embrace interruptions & all the mess that comes with life construction.<br />
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"without oxen a stable stays clean, but you need a strong ox for a large harvest."</div>
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- proverbs 14:4</div>
wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-34097614819471863522014-10-05T14:29:00.000-04:002014-10-05T14:41:42.745-04:00ode to nicole<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigIZANm6ictnIrt6-97zDJZrhBivz653RFeX7ouAiev008mHA96xGXMUy2HBz0zoBGnWRsudAkKWHWKgUFRiIMcbaEqJP5gRs6lO3Ix9rvgXStQ1lI8IX9ulOi3UTgvhqFdVf2LhIZPU/s1600/loft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigIZANm6ictnIrt6-97zDJZrhBivz653RFeX7ouAiev008mHA96xGXMUy2HBz0zoBGnWRsudAkKWHWKgUFRiIMcbaEqJP5gRs6lO3Ix9rvgXStQ1lI8IX9ulOi3UTgvhqFdVf2LhIZPU/s1600/loft.jpg" /></a></div>
we recently had the lovely pleasure of meeting my brother's girlfriend, nicole. they live in edmonton which is why we hadn't met her up until now. they had come to ontario for a family wedding in grand bend & had stayed on for a week to visit us at the farm & help move my mom into the guest room. they were both troopers. david "slept" in the boys room which i'm afraid the boys were entirely too excited about & nicole snuggled in the guest room with sadie, my mom's dog, & of course my mom. there was all to early risings after all night parties in the boys room, lots of chainsawing & tire swing hanging & bush hogging, haying & loft organizing, riding & subsequent falling, duck pluming & porcupine murdering & chick disposal. it was a productive & yet memorable week to say the least.<br />
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my absolute favourite memory of that week was the loft door raising (or rather the image of nicole in a beautiful green dress holding onto a thread bare rope while hanging from a meat hook suspended from the roof of the barn). let me elaborate. the highest door of the loft, which we had just spent the day stacking hay into, had fallen off & needed to be reattached to the highest peak of the tallest barn. my brother bravely stepped forward to be the guy that hammers it back on at ridiculous heights. he straddled his ladder precariously on the weakened, definitely-not-safe roof of a conjoining barn & us girls up in the loft tried to tie an old rope to both the top of his ladder securing it to a beam & the triangle piece of missing loft door to hoist it out to be nailed on by my brother. we each had our jobs. david was to nail the piece back on, mom & i were to hoist & hold the triangle piece in place so it was nailed in right & nicole, in her beautiful green dress, was to hang onto the rope that both secured the ladder & the piece of loft door that hung over david's head so's not to knock him clean off the ladder if it fell.<br />
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all was going as planned. nicole held the rope. we held the wooden door in place & david started hammering until the faint hum of a single bee could be heard on the outside of the barn followed by the subsequent squeaking of the ladder & a long roll of profanity. us girls looked at each other wincing each time the ladder squeaked & an obscenity followed, afraid to ask if he was ok. and then with all the jarring of the ladder being moved to & fro the rope that nicole was holding onto began to fray & break. she helplessly kept trying to hold on just a little bit higher than the last break, we quickly helped her tie the rope around an old meat hook looking thing hanging from the ceiling until that very unhappy bee came for us inside the barn. we screamed & danced around trying to avoid being stung while still holding our positions. and poor nicole hung for dear life to the rope that dangled her boyfriend's life on the squeaky ladder outside while trying to avoid letting go altogether.<br />
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it is this picture that i will treasure always because not only did it mean she had successfully been initiated into our family & the brutality of farm life but it spoke volumes about her love for my brother... that she chose his life over hers, bumblebee torture over dropping that itchy, thread bare rope, hayloft nonsense over her beautiful green dress. i am impressed to say the least.<br />
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if she can sleep with stinky sadie, fall off an attitudinal pony, face her fear of birds gracing our poopy chicken coop with her presence, hay her heart out in the sweatiest season of the summer & subject herself to bumblebee torture ... well, i think that deserves a toast of some kind!<br />
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and to this i raise my glass & say "here, here! ode du nicole!"<br />
we hope you will be a long & lovely part of our family for years to come.<br />
xo<br />
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p.s. oh, and that loft door did get hung without any major injuries ;)<br />
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<br />wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-15536534947666763932014-08-11T08:04:00.000-04:002014-08-11T08:18:38.819-04:00death on the farm<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">henriette, humphrey bogard & hepburn, my beloved birds</td></tr>
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death is apart of life. it's especially apart of farm life. we long knew that we would have to get used to eating our own animals as that is the primary reason for raising most of them. but there is also the unexpected causality list of animals that reach their untimely end due to a sly fox, the shovel of pity, squashings & animal bullying or illness/injury of some kind. the latter is the most difficult i think because of its unexpected, messy nature & also that it is one animal that has been singled out & we know it's name as opposed to slaughter day where everyone gets done on the same day & we can't distinguish who's who in the freezer. no names just delicious nameless meat for the dinner table.<br />
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we've lucked out so far in the way of accidental deaths until this weekend. this weekend we lost two chicks, a chicken, a duck & a porcupine. the chicks got squashed in the brooder by their overzealous siblings. the chicken we had inherited from another farm in the area & had died of old age (i didn't really like her anyways, she had been debeaked as a chick & it just looked so weird). the porcupine was a casualty of the shovel of pity. it not only had previously smacked Jackson in the gums but also happened to be deranged. in all the early morning confusion, the only thing we could think to do to the poor thing was kill it to prevent it from spreading whatever it had.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(<u>interesting fact #1</u>: did you know that there is currently no rabies in Ontario? the ministry of natural resources had eradicated it through various programs quite a few years ago which means the number of deranged animals we've found on the farm is kind of a big deal. it could still be distemper or another terrible disease, either way our vet had recommended to kill it if we found it to avoid unnecessary vet bills. <u>interesting fact #2</u>: porcupines are not typically the carriers of disease due to their prickly nature making species to species infections unlikely. <u>interesting fact #3</u>: no one in ontario is interested or knows what to do with a rabid animal which became pretty clear after calling & being transferred to nine different governmental departments. i gave up trying to report the numerous animals that had crossed our property which were clearly sick with something very similar to rabies)</span><br />
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anyways, the main event this weekend was loosing my favourite duck, henriette. we have been free ranging our ducks & chickens to save us the annoying work of having to build a proper chicken run over the bedrock of the barnyard. which had been going great, until the ducks, who had up to this point in their short little lives always been contained in a cage of some sort, learned that they could fly. something came over jackson that could not be stopped & he injured her beyond saving. she died a few bloody minutes later. she was my favourite! i still can't look at jackson, even though i know it is entirely not his fault. it was just his instinct which i know we need to respect. the kids weren't even upset. they were kinda like "yeah we know... this is what you've been preparing us for since the day we got them". but i wasn't ready!<br />
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steve took care of yet another carcass & deplummed her with my brother in the backyard & readied the meat. he thought he had adequately hiddden her unused parts until the hushed whispers of the kitchen caught up with him. "uckhead day in the og day's outh may" my aunt whispered so's not to cause me any more trauma. but after retrieving her beautiful head from the dog's mouth he walked straight into me on his way into the kitchen & i cried... just a little.... at the sight of her speckled little beak & trusting eyes.<br />
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the dinner table was very quiet. the mood was overcast as we all stared silently at the plate full of her abundance until my uncle piped up and said "i just don't know if i can do this. it's just so sad. it's really more of a funeral isn't it?" to which steve replied "yeah, but at least it's a tasty one!" and began dishing her up. after having a few delectably, guilty bites i excused myself from the dinner table to paint my grief away in one of the various rooms we are currently renovating.<br />
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this will not be the last death on the farm. but it's certainly wasn't my fondest. her deplummed feathers now fill the barnyard, occasionally swirling in the summer breeze, as a reminder that we can't get around the facts of life, especially the farm facts of life.<br />
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she was henriette. and she was my favourite.wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-17193583550418786442014-07-28T13:42:00.000-04:002014-07-28T13:42:02.114-04:00transitions. it's been a much bigger adjustment to the farm than we had anticipated. don't get me wrong. there has been plenty of fun & fruit & fulfilment already too. but still lots of changes & adjustments & transitions.<br />
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the long list of unexpecteds didn't help with our long, stressful delay in closing. then the lack of action in selling our old house (our old house is still holding our furniture for ransom for staging purposes to give us the best shot at selling). and then just the steep adaptation to farm life after moving from downtown ottawa. although, i had grown up on a small hobby farm... my kids, husband & dogs had not... which became apparent by the thousands of prickle plants & slivers we have taken out of the kids feet, or the porcupine quills we had to take out of Jacks gums & the horses muzzle or the few nights i had to sleep with an epipen in my right hand because my husband's allergies/asthma had manifested so badly. we are definitely over the hump i think. still climbing a steep learning curve but over the biggest humps. but before i forget, i wanted to chronicle some of the bigger transitions or changes so if any of you ever decide you want to move out of the city into the middle of nowhere, you'll know what you're getting yourself into. ;)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1VQI0zo3QpOJOROZCHhyphenhyphendklUQ_M6Qbnn4OTu8LE6-zHqPXbUrO5FVyxDerZjbRCnsKkGL0fzTundjReh5LTl_P3HEsw14umo08kl17EovAAEXZlO1-AXYeqmWuPEeA_TpoT0XBHbHR4/s1600/IMG_5270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1VQI0zo3QpOJOROZCHhyphenhyphendklUQ_M6Qbnn4OTu8LE6-zHqPXbUrO5FVyxDerZjbRCnsKkGL0fzTundjReh5LTl_P3HEsw14umo08kl17EovAAEXZlO1-AXYeqmWuPEeA_TpoT0XBHbHR4/s1600/IMG_5270.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a favourite pastime of the kids as i<br />build the turkey coop in the barn<br />eva riding "mabel" </td></tr>
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1.<b> the water.</b> the wilkins are big water drinkers. and moving from city water to well water has welllll been a little soured by our poor working water softner. it has affected how much we drink, how well our clothes wash in the washing machine or dish washer & how soap lathers in the shower. but the coles notes are: never buy softner salt from walmart (always go with the more expensive pet friendly stuff), when washing cloth diapers in hard water use 'rockin green for hard water' or you will never get the smell out of them, don't pack your old top loader washing machine too full (leave lots of room for the clothes to move around) & use cascade (which is crap for city water but works miracles on a well) in the dishwasher & invest in some sort of water filter for drinking.<br />
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2. <b>the elation level.</b> we had well prepared our family by reading tons of articles about how moving to a new home can affect small children. and we knew what to do if they missed our old house or were sad & wanted their old school back but we're ill prepared for the sheer & total consuming excitement that has turned our children into wildlings. they <i>never</i> calm down. they have difficulty closing their eyes & settling at the end of day (i have even considered taping their eyes shut since blackout blinds & total silence rule had no effect). the other day we pulled up in front of our old house to get something & they all started full out wailing because they didn't want to go back to living in "<i>that</i> house!". it's like they wake up (at 4am) thinking we're about to take the farm away from them & so they have to carpe deim their way through the day. i have tried everything i can think of. even tv has lost it's charm. i've tried quiet time, lavender oil on their ears, the whisper game & i guess i'll just wait it out. hopefully the arrival of september & school will help.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHy1fVdwYDXEO1c_i4IDbxA_VMzOuVv6ahYsM1g6ew_A0PoPFsb_fdQT-ZdKBvr7NiK4bU1I-aoopN3kNCubPh6B-aQA2gkljtDF2-5DijYXrkPhufoUsajUpSh42s7JFb37J_C3D9HBY/s1600/IMG_5273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHy1fVdwYDXEO1c_i4IDbxA_VMzOuVv6ahYsM1g6ew_A0PoPFsb_fdQT-ZdKBvr7NiK4bU1I-aoopN3kNCubPh6B-aQA2gkljtDF2-5DijYXrkPhufoUsajUpSh42s7JFb37J_C3D9HBY/s1600/IMG_5273.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">liv riding gilly our goat</td></tr>
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3. <b>bugs, dirt, gross things & the carefree.</b> we have no neighbours who can see us so the kids are pretty much naked most of the day which leads to a lot of dirt & a lot of bug bites. but it seems i can wash them a lot easier than i can wash their clothes currently (thanks a lot hard water). we work in dirt all day long. i realized our familiarity with it had grown considerably by the look on a friends face while watching me clean out the poopy duck house with my bare hands. the kids prance around the pig pen in their bare feet (not that i endorse this, we have had countless talks about footwear). there are snakes & toads & turles & worms & massive flying gross things everywhere. the first month, eva would scream every time she saw a bug. now even she too has a bug catcher & enjoys adding to her bug collection. i end everyday with filthy, stinky feet. our mudroom has taken on a whole new meaning. but i daily have to remind myself that dirty kids are ones that have had a ton of fun & dirty feet mean being productive. and dirt has tons of vitamins & minerals & probiotics that all contribute to a healthy immune system so bring on the dirt... just not into my kitchen!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjopkvf4-0gdy5boOeCeoPWsHgjpwxeahTWdzuAbWh8j3aMG0ZLXAJQ0pnNX_Eo8CXBwSq4yKbyyHH3gZLXGMtulS04a8bf3XAU1HQoZtjGhyphenhyphenBH0rQuLeKKRMRjZWpC-27XG1hSUpQPMio/s1600/IMG_5284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjopkvf4-0gdy5boOeCeoPWsHgjpwxeahTWdzuAbWh8j3aMG0ZLXAJQ0pnNX_Eo8CXBwSq4yKbyyHH3gZLXGMtulS04a8bf3XAU1HQoZtjGhyphenhyphenBH0rQuLeKKRMRjZWpC-27XG1hSUpQPMio/s1600/IMG_5284.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dav riding "bullet" the stallion</td></tr>
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4. <b>hard work & balance.</b> everyday is full of hard, sweaty man's work. but i'm the farmer in the family & i really like to just get 'er done so none of this wait until steve gets home from work to help (i learned this from my mama... healthy independence is a gift). but the flip side to this is that i have to force myself to take break or by 5pm i can't move & i haven't eaten anything which lead to ice-cream binges & the like. it is so easy to just get consumed by the work. i LOVE it & most interruptions are unwelcome & i have a hard time metabolizing them... like when you're throwing bale upon bale of hay from a sweaty hayloft & you finally find your rhythm & motivation when you are interrupted by multiple little children, who are meant to be sleeping, scampering out with pants around their ankles every few minutes to get their bums wiped. but i have to set realistic expectations & not have an adverse reaction to asking for help. i realize as the summer is quickly coming to a close that they won't always be home all day everyday & then i will miss them & regret having spent their time at home ignoring them while i shovel pig poop. the best solution is to do the hard work at a much slower, much less productive pace while including them in everything i do. they have a grand ol time & learn valuable skills & i have been pretty surprised at how helpful they actually are not to mention how entertaining they can be. :) they're great company & pretty cute little commentators on the ongoings around the farm.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKB6UFgNyGjMooJ342yAUaGIw4E0Fl3YLqj_HyGvK7XMNw63PQyEM0zuvt03WWb7YQEuIYOQoiOiMcRG9wKyZhtDPCsjlLWkbIu4sKe1XWEpKTDEMkjtJOI06aFjAErdtjFsCQYRwl2QQ/s1600/IMG_5290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKB6UFgNyGjMooJ342yAUaGIw4E0Fl3YLqj_HyGvK7XMNw63PQyEM0zuvt03WWb7YQEuIYOQoiOiMcRG9wKyZhtDPCsjlLWkbIu4sKe1XWEpKTDEMkjtJOI06aFjAErdtjFsCQYRwl2QQ/s1600/IMG_5290.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">kai riding "rusty" the speeding bull</td></tr>
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5. <b>neighbours. </b>we so miss the neighbours that surrounded us at our last house. they were all elderly or retired & spent the day watching me with the kids through their windows or chit chatting with the kids while i discretely tried to complete a task. i really miss them. and i had been concerned about being isolated out here but such has not been the case. we constantly have somebody stopping by to drop off an invite or help with a chore or just fill the long afternoons with a little company & i have surprisingly enjoyed it. but one thing i am still learning is how to meet their extreme generosity. they are always letting us borrow things or lending stuff or sharing their home-raised organic dinners & i just don't know how it works (i think because we have mostly been on the opposite end of that equation in the past). we don't have anything to offer yet other than three stubborn, egg-less ducks. but i'm sure these will be long term relationships & i will find a way to mirror their kindness in the future.<br />
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there have been many other transitions to country life but those are the only five i can remember at the moment. we do just love it out here & can't wait to be in a place to share it more openly with others. as long as you don't mind the frogs in the basement or the lack of furniture & cleanliness around here, consider this your invitation to come visit!<br />
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hope to see you soon!wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-43362513322058180882014-07-02T18:14:00.001-04:002014-07-02T18:14:32.876-04:00antique curiositiesas we begin to clean out, renovate & explore the old barns we have found some pretty interesting antique trinkets.<br />
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when we bought the old farm we were told that the farm house was built in 1834 but the barns were built some time before that as was the old custom. after celebrating canada day yesterday i realized that our house is older than canada & was actually built in the dominion. cool, eh?<br />
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most of the weird little bibs & bobs we have no idea what they are or were or if they have any value. so i thought i'd post them on here to see if anyone of the world wide web knows what in the world they are or what to do with them.<br />
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it would be such a waste to just chuck 'em or leave them in the bottom of a disintegrated manger or delapitated hay loft. and they tell us the long story of the farm itself & what is was used for, the kind of people who worked it & how they worked it & the older ways of life. it would certainly enlighten some of our curiosities about different buildings & how we could restore them.<br />
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so here's number one:<br />
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i think i know what this might be but not super sure.<br />
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location found: the old chicken coop on top of some laying boxes<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8nI_lLZCFxYTcRzWjsQ1bvpkdtucbgQWTyo2E6OfFo0-DRbeqcAe27LJ2yLUYavHYuYJRMH_kRt9ikY6KobErt94ml-mwNbER0WNRBNu1PJc-benFgxrSIq16opkdju1DP6Elx1HGhI/s1600/chicken+coop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8nI_lLZCFxYTcRzWjsQ1bvpkdtucbgQWTyo2E6OfFo0-DRbeqcAe27LJ2yLUYavHYuYJRMH_kRt9ikY6KobErt94ml-mwNbER0WNRBNu1PJc-benFgxrSIq16opkdju1DP6Elx1HGhI/s1600/chicken+coop.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i'd say the old coop needs a little tlc before the chickens move<br />
in at the end of the month</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FTFSHTMO1dd01y9D24gbhDTH-OCwvz87oUh-78wKu6G1-8XA_l8WbP9Z_hXsFjKzRyR09kvaeMo_S0mttcLhEmCbJdaMUY83GgBj7C1U10kRp2q6Dc5CrZ_VgfFW2j0JHWWGM89UXns/s1600/chicken+coop1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FTFSHTMO1dd01y9D24gbhDTH-OCwvz87oUh-78wKu6G1-8XA_l8WbP9Z_hXsFjKzRyR09kvaeMo_S0mttcLhEmCbJdaMUY83GgBj7C1U10kRp2q6Dc5CrZ_VgfFW2j0JHWWGM89UXns/s1600/chicken+coop1.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">just a little sneak peak the partly renovated coop...<br />
i painted the window sill & that's about all so far.<br />
we still need to learn how to chink between the logs,<br />
fix all the windows, cut a bigger window out for the top<br />
for ventilation & make the outdoor run as well as tamper<br />
proof the whole thing so nothing can mess with our chickens</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigwOIalFOWBW0TAl8O86iHiqKKiOAkrnHRM_XcjDDZcRbAhJ5-79FB6Hu0uHq_VXFon6grsanSJK3-wd4hKqocz7mXBKS_Pxywei8e_VezGTAFUF66Pu094IDa8FnSCbGEg9AWnyNL7k/s1600/farm+relic11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigwOIalFOWBW0TAl8O86iHiqKKiOAkrnHRM_XcjDDZcRbAhJ5-79FB6Hu0uHq_VXFon6grsanSJK3-wd4hKqocz7mXBKS_Pxywei8e_VezGTAFUF66Pu094IDa8FnSCbGEg9AWnyNL7k/s1600/farm+relic11.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and the item in question</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-lKHFsFsKnb8aANfU0aBcp75XRc_uhxt0pk6rykkRMOjWIB_PvWJ2_OcNoKlGrPMOni0hddUtAwXU-8YyQRaxMTWDcnwOrEXoabrEIrr8cu5Oxl-SlOzdM6qj7IhJyPYsBZRLx65Ewwk/s1600/farm+relic+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-lKHFsFsKnb8aANfU0aBcp75XRc_uhxt0pk6rykkRMOjWIB_PvWJ2_OcNoKlGrPMOni0hddUtAwXU-8YyQRaxMTWDcnwOrEXoabrEIrr8cu5Oxl-SlOzdM6qj7IhJyPYsBZRLx65Ewwk/s1600/farm+relic+1.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the holes at the bottom are too big for feeding</td></tr>
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what do you think it is??<br />
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also found this thingy ma-bob... and in it's original packaging too<br />
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<br />wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-79714481670363311662014-06-26T06:30:00.000-04:002014-06-26T06:30:01.107-04:00meet the 'stockwe've been growing this little homestead steadily since we've arrived here at the farm. lots of people have expressed both their concern & surprise that we would have animals on the farm this early as we are renovating both the house & the dilapidated barns. but, spring is the cheapest & most efficient season to buy & add livestock. and most of the kids' & my excitement about the farm has centred around the potential livestock themselves.<br />
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we should have probably waited. we could have waited. but we didn't & i can honestly say it has been my saving grace. although a bit naturally out of what would be most people's logical progression, (buy farm, settle kids, then renovate the house, then renovate the barns, then carefully plan & research livestock & invest next spring or two when we know what we're doing), it's more our style to take on nine massive projects all at the same time. even though we have had several livestock calamities (the tim horton's parking lot pig escapade, the case of the missing goat horn & the horsegate fiasco of 2014... i hope to pen these later because i don't think i'll believe them myself in a few years), they have also been one of my greatest sources of peace through this transition. i so look forward to my 20 minutes both morning & night that i get to interact & watch & play with them. such a nice change in pace. for the evening chores, the kids are usually in bed & i can just saunter out to greet the pig, play with the goats, collect duck eggs or ride mabel with the deer in the back few acres.<br />
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this is not to say that it hasn't been a pretty steep learning curve. i think just in our first week here i had to learn how to get a giant tic off an unsuspecting pig, how to build a "duck-tractor" in under 10 hours, how to clean a chick's "vent" & how to transport an angry goat in the family van without it bashing out my back window. it has been a lot of youtubing & contacting people on kijiji. and although doing it all by myself while trying to competently mother & settle into a pretty eccentric house has been overwhelming at times, it has also given me a huge confidence boost. if i can teach an ornery pig who's boss every morning, well, i figure i can do a lot of other things i've never before too & succeed!<br />
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so stayed tuned. lots of stories to come. </div>
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here are a few more pics of some of the new livestock around the property... just so you'll know who i'm talking about when i write about them later. they each have their own stories to tell... but that's for another time.<br />
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thanks for joining me on this little adventure!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6zD4kAJP99TNClHROBJNfOw9OiQJlOjV8iiEnnPnrq4Y624u48XQgBkkxzh7Cix9v-tKdCD1XaHQx9Ne7UT9XrQoNCWZSqtMZUpiOer3F3dTAxKlfeU7ONnOB29iWeSRev0oNe1CsQEM/s1600/IMG_4897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6zD4kAJP99TNClHROBJNfOw9OiQJlOjV8iiEnnPnrq4Y624u48XQgBkkxzh7Cix9v-tKdCD1XaHQx9Ne7UT9XrQoNCWZSqtMZUpiOer3F3dTAxKlfeU7ONnOB29iWeSRev0oNe1CsQEM/s1600/IMG_4897.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kip is our baby billy goat... he's a Nigerian Dwarf<br />& we are hoping to use him for breeding <br />& lawn mowing</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JuRqtSJA7zQuiEdgSK_v3bPBr5ymXBpEDUbjlFYeOT2mCTCZA2J4oVdmo6X1p2rxmj1V-hIMZr9nJ6ulLcWV5gKuNCVh6ejelBwT2v3lHw49bAMR3fDZ0X3GjxfCvlYKvl5osNaRxno/s1600/IMG_5022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JuRqtSJA7zQuiEdgSK_v3bPBr5ymXBpEDUbjlFYeOT2mCTCZA2J4oVdmo6X1p2rxmj1V-hIMZr9nJ6ulLcWV5gKuNCVh6ejelBwT2v3lHw49bAMR3fDZ0X3GjxfCvlYKvl5osNaRxno/s1600/IMG_5022.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">despite livi's size this is her favourite animal</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCtJHw0kCb6DKoBiG7__P5sjiNTrESzYBfDXira1clIwU73_LufxSLEvnYcUmdFlfk020HDuUS0p_MBUcY2mV88e5uVo1iYgmX49L82fdgkrRORXoPyWW6D_aYqd0LY_jWOfmPIlng30/s1600/IMG_5026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCtJHw0kCb6DKoBiG7__P5sjiNTrESzYBfDXira1clIwU73_LufxSLEvnYcUmdFlfk020HDuUS0p_MBUcY2mV88e5uVo1iYgmX49L82fdgkrRORXoPyWW6D_aYqd0LY_jWOfmPIlng30/s1600/IMG_5026.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">meet mabel</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVNdFqqa69cbYW1N1z336nYdgmtmZx5HNwYK6OpUs-3T0N2tbY2DzkuENU2Y7mWA7DnyiwFwVseLKUzzSfceLeWhZarslS8aAr0T3Z1C-uf8Y3j_P1QJknMmH83qXLrEFW470q_2YgMyU/s1600/IMG_5057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVNdFqqa69cbYW1N1z336nYdgmtmZx5HNwYK6OpUs-3T0N2tbY2DzkuENU2Y7mWA7DnyiwFwVseLKUzzSfceLeWhZarslS8aAr0T3Z1C-uf8Y3j_P1QJknMmH83qXLrEFW470q_2YgMyU/s1600/IMG_5057.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mabel is an older Pony of the Americas (POA), i got her<br />for a great deal on kijiji. she's been gradually building<br />back my confidence in riding. she will be our resident<br />teaching horse & apple eater. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvmyKBNkLPvOmhx17eXtIGPMaT0Jd0PwSXPLRyIaxSq7rMeZzsILxPVImpV-tJUBPHdvg23sM-S8FaMNsrFhqeKk_ZpT6_UXPDLyco_gJro_EEkKKqhP5TSQWvfLeI5-mKczELSqNxDM/s1600/IMG_5060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvmyKBNkLPvOmhx17eXtIGPMaT0Jd0PwSXPLRyIaxSq7rMeZzsILxPVImpV-tJUBPHdvg23sM-S8FaMNsrFhqeKk_ZpT6_UXPDLyco_gJro_EEkKKqhP5TSQWvfLeI5-mKczELSqNxDM/s1600/IMG_5060.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">meet lily. she is a 4 year old registered paint mare (she's a stock<br />paint, so although she doesn't look like a paint if bred she'll produce one)<br />she doesn't actually belong to us but just a friend for mabel at the moment</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUsk7vCxWwncr8ZLw2J0YmPeYw3SSup65lt56BIoKEuCYLPW2T9AHI19OdFzzh-fbACCiVgnp9ml0SFZugSI9lZBouO5gNwTIFOWcK_8oDmhjVBobX2UNz6PHwERatCaiJPnuGZtRCXw/s1600/IMG_5063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUsk7vCxWwncr8ZLw2J0YmPeYw3SSup65lt56BIoKEuCYLPW2T9AHI19OdFzzh-fbACCiVgnp9ml0SFZugSI9lZBouO5gNwTIFOWcK_8oDmhjVBobX2UNz6PHwERatCaiJPnuGZtRCXw/s1600/IMG_5063.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">meet gilly. she is a pygmy/nigerian dwarf cross. this is her<br />post-traumatic horn incident (more to come on that). we think<br />she may be pregnant but we are not super sure... i have no idea<br />what to do with a goat placenta but it's looking like i'll have to learn!<br />she will be our milking & producing goat... but we can't milk her until<br />she's had a kid. terrified of having to assist her in labour but so excited<br />to potentially have a little baby around again :) goat duala-ing here we come!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFKBmyQ8Pe-uX_Xdloiq0ZQPKj8ZHWXQYz9nYj9_5I2amIPLwXTwTAfoEUL6BEgZokvnnabogLV7knDTHjgw8xuenp5fmOu5545qlkLhVa7ebrxG_giaBxar9agK1odSzgEReU1F4AmI/s1600/IMG_5066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFKBmyQ8Pe-uX_Xdloiq0ZQPKj8ZHWXQYz9nYj9_5I2amIPLwXTwTAfoEUL6BEgZokvnnabogLV7knDTHjgw8xuenp5fmOu5545qlkLhVa7ebrxG_giaBxar9agK1odSzgEReU1F4AmI/s1600/IMG_5066.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and churchill. he's just so nice. unless he's hungry.<br />he's a real ham (no pun intended!) he will be<br />our breeding boar (we get two spotted girls in a few months).<br />he is a heritage breed which means slower growing meat but<br />higher quality! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBVemqVzfy38He2eRJSHdKi2xoULyxojOVLR5dhx3ohCCSXjuMxg00evWdrWmQmWSkQutVpdHLFNoqSKk8asUWfeA9xcqaSGhLAJjrXLf5w9C7vk8g7Lh0e1why1xYmjTLvzDkaFZBqI/s1600/IMG_5094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBVemqVzfy38He2eRJSHdKi2xoULyxojOVLR5dhx3ohCCSXjuMxg00evWdrWmQmWSkQutVpdHLFNoqSKk8asUWfeA9xcqaSGhLAJjrXLf5w9C7vk8g7Lh0e1why1xYmjTLvzDkaFZBqI/s1600/IMG_5094.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and you already know henriette & hepburn but<br />here is their little clutch of eggs they've been tending too...<br />they have been trying to sit on the exact same nest of eggs...<br />i'll make the tractor a little bigger for them next time (they would<br />have had twice the amount of eggs if they had separate nests). we hope<br />they'll hatch out at least a dozen ducklings to raise as meat ducks.</td></tr>
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<br />wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-84782498892893972622014-06-25T15:12:00.000-04:002014-06-25T15:18:54.251-04:00my husband is a hero!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_YAESyAvJBVBkrY8rDa4F1nyE6-WuQdeSg6dL5x-GXMoumi3OsrNiZ4ge0N_LxOlSW849KbCkHhzEx9jRPJw3JGsNnv3mTISWXonQooz5wCRvZW_2v_1pt_8cdkUZdUXqmKJapckW-4/s1600/cbc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_YAESyAvJBVBkrY8rDa4F1nyE6-WuQdeSg6dL5x-GXMoumi3OsrNiZ4ge0N_LxOlSW849KbCkHhzEx9jRPJw3JGsNnv3mTISWXonQooz5wCRvZW_2v_1pt_8cdkUZdUXqmKJapckW-4/s1600/cbc.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
my husband has always been <i>my</i> hero but recently became a bonafide one. :)<br />
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this poor cyclist was denied help by not one but two people before steve found her by the roadside. a true good Samaritan story:<br />
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<a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/ottawa/goose-attack-leaves-ottawa-cyclist-shaken-and-scarred-1.2686751">http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/ottawa/goose-attack-leaves-ottawa-cyclist-shaken-and-scarred-1.2686751</a><br />
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i met her yesterday & she is well on the mend. she even quietly hid a small gift for our kids in our front entryway to thank him. as she was getting into her car, she asked me if we had told our kids about the event (the question made more sense once we found her gift) but i had said we only had given a very general account to them to explain why he was late getting home. but it made me think. think about how much i haven't taken the opportunity to celebrate & praise their daddy for the daily hero that he is to us. in fact, when steve had texted to say he would be quite a bit later due to the accident, i was a little miffed inside, if i were to be honest. miffed that i had to single parent again for another night. how silly is that. how embarrassing & selfish my attitude. i totally understood that he was needed in that situation & that that was more important than the crazy household i found myself in but i still quietly was slightly annoyed.<br />
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the importance of this was highlighted to me again when a few days later steve himself was taken to the hospital by ambulance. he is now also recovered from the terrifying event but i will certainly take every opportunity i can to celebrate their daddy. things may not happen the way i want them to each day. the trash may not get taken out or things around the house may not get done as fast as i'd like them to but that changes nothing about the kind of man their father & my husband is. i will take every opportunity i can now to both see & celebrate the great man of God that i have the privilege of being married to. :)wonder wilkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06456524797300355139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2356740251360006920.post-80346621092779839762014-06-25T14:50:00.000-04:002014-06-25T15:20:45.824-04:00she sings to me...i am prone to anger. if there were one emotion that i found it difficult to not be overtaken by it would be that one.<br />
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and when i get frustrated, i get so angry it boils over & fills the house like a terrifying roar.<br />
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i have been frustrated for long time now. it had all seemingly stemmed out of some of the post-partum struggles i had written about. and then just crept in & taken over my garden like a vicious weed sometime after that. i had tried to fight the urge to explode but if i kept my mouth shut it steamed out my eye sockets! there just didn't seem to be a victorious way to control my temper. and with four little-ing, one whopping lifestyle change with mounds & mounds of unearth-able stress on top, there has been no shortage of legitimate reasons to spontaneously combust.<br />
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and then after a shameful incident, i couldn't ignore it anymore. i wasn't trying to ignore it before. i just didn't know what to do or how to stop yelling. i just looked into my youngest eyes & she was frightened & i broke into a million pieces that felt like they could never go back together again. how did i get here? i asked myself. i am an overwhelmed, overworked mother of four youngsters who cannot keep her voice under control. and my hopelessness swelled.<br />
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and so i prayed because there had been nothing else to help. i had read the books. locked myself in the bathroom for timeouts. counted to ten. tried to talk in whispers & i just couldn't control myself. and so i prayed a tearful prayer of repentance & i broke it open before the Lord & asked him to help me.<br />
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and then i picked myself off the floor, didn't even bother to wipe the tears from my cheeks & walked down the hall to see to the screaming balls of children at the end of the hall. i silently separated them onto their beds & decided to try to reflect on what to do next while repairing eva's closet doors which wouldn't stay in their tracks properly. i think my silence scarred the kids more than if i had yelled for some reason. and eva who had been placed on her bed, was listening to my deep, deep sighs as i fiddled with the broken hardware of her closet door & she just started singing. she said, she knew just the song to make me feel better & sang away! and i felt the mounds of pent up pressure inside fizzle out & peace drift in. it was a sweet little song about how much Jesus loves me & how i don't have to be frustrated because He's so wonderful. it was slightly off tune & ranged from a soft whisper to a starling howl but it was anointed.<br />
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she does it all the time now. sings. often when she thinks i'm frustrated (even if she mistakes hard work for frustration... i don't mind), she just start belting it out. and i can't help but smile & let go of whatever emotion is all tangled up inside... exhaustion, anxiety, worry, frustration... all gone at the sound of that little voice offering her praise to up to Jesus.<br />
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it was & is a supernatural answer to my prayer. i can't even really explain why it has helped so much. it just has. <br />
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now i carry that song with me, even when she is not. :)<br />
<i>"i love Jesus because He don't get frustrated with me!"</i><br />
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