Full Hands, Emptying Farm-ette

Seems like I hear that often enough, how my hands are full.  And they are.  And they are full of blessings and I’m sure I could fill books with gratitudes.  But sometimes I am restless anyway, eager to cultivate and create and concoct some other persona than the one I am.  But who does that, really, other than people in hiding?

I’ll tell you who.  People who have kept things hidden in order to meet the needs and demands and expectations of everyone else.  How to bring them out, however, when I’m busy with eternal matters such as motherhood and pressing needs such as laundry?  Furthermore, ought I to even care for those things, those talents, those latent dreams?  After all, anything less in importance than things eternal are, honestly, fodder for idolatry and we all know (either by wisdom or experience) where that road goes.  But still…there must be a way to glorify God in the travel while driving those dreams in some way…

Currently I’m going through a half-dozen boxes, and I do mean BOXES, of writing I’ve done since I was about 11 years old.  Piles and piles of poetry, short stories, journals, essays, reports, letters….all in worn hefty cardboard boxes with lids.  I had in my mind that I would create some sort of mixed media art with at least bits of it, sort of a *this was/is me* buried under ModPodge and acrylic paint.  The truth is, though, that much of it has ended in the garbage or recycling and *special* portions are reserved for a nice, hot bonfire.  I read enough of it to realize that I wasn’t ready to read/relive it, and more importantly, I didn’t need anyone else reading either.  I used to think my children and grands would like to, eventually, to see my spiritual growth and all of the good, bad and ugly.  However, it wasn’t ever my intention or reason for writing, so it seems a little dishonest.  Mainly it was me working things out with the One who already knew and knows.  I still write to do that, and I don’t need to prove to myself or anyone else anymore that “I am a writer” by pointing to an abundance of paper.  I just hope someone stronger emerges when the ashes from the past cool, because right now, it feels a bit blistery.

In the meantime, I’m keeping this little blog going.  I don’t know why.  Perhaps someone else out in ether world shares the same struggles with managing their lives with real purpose and meaning in this age of distractions.  The worst part is the death of real relationships; who needs to talk and share coffee or write letters when we can “just” text or “just” post on Facebook or “just” update our status?  And heavens, don’t even get me started with folks that do that sort of nonsense in the presence of real, live, breathing people!  Anyhow, before my pondering gets pontiferous…

Just a few things to share.

One, it is totally worth dehydrating your favorite seasonings and tis the season to do it.  I have lots of favorites, but garlic and oregano are tops in my kitchen so I make sure I have those.  Here is a perfect example about why to make your own.  This is dried oregano. The really nice green leafy greens on top are from my garden.  The bottom faded dried out little pieces are from the market, and yes it was specialty organic seasoning to boot (and not from China).  Guess which one smells and tastes better?  And NO, don’t add this as “one more thing to do”.   You don’t have to do it “all”; I gave up making laundry soap long ago 🙂

Oh and we are the worst tooth fairies ever.  We ALWAYS forget to exchange a dollar per tooth and we end up adding extra dollars for every night we forget (don’t want to disappoint anyone at this point anyhow by being on time!).  I got this note on the kitchen counter along with some *change*.

Annnnnnd, speaking of letting things go, a whole lot of animals have been tearfully sold around here to make room and time for I don’t know what but husband wants a break and so there we are.  Our farm-ette is emptying at a fast clip and it does look real lonely in empty fenced-in pastures.  Half of our ducks got picked off this year by foxes, too.  At this rate, this guy will be the only animal left once it’s all said and done.  As I said in a previous post, sometimes dreams need to die.  It’s pretty hard, though, to imagine what’s coming.

That’s all for now.

Blessings,