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Life With A Knight

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Once upon a time

 

2bdf0-dreamstime_xs_castle

There was a certain peacefulness in the air, the rustle of the autumn leaves, the damp smell of a recent shower, and the gentle breeze wafting through her graying hair. Although it had not always been this way, at

this very moment, she was content. Life’s vanishing moments played in the recesses of her memories. She found herself smiling at the remembrances of her beautiful children, and a small tear escaped down her cheek. Quiet laughter exhaled through her lips thinking of all the impractical moments they also had shared. There had been wearisome times, of course, but they didn’t matter anymore, and were always quickly forgotten.

But as she reclined in the Meadow of Time Past, there were other memories that would never be forgotten, these memories were of the Knight. Not a large champion, as some would think of a knight, but a common man of high character and moral tenacity. And although her Knight no longer possessed the strength of a horse or the agility of a lion, his other striking traits remained. The way his blue eyes pierced deep into her soul, knowing what must be said or done to heal her troubled heart; or the way he continually stood before her, protecting her from impending danger. The Knight was a man of truth, morality, and grit. There were no others like him in the land, aside from his posterity.

She always felt safe when he was near. As they battled the giants, the dragons, and fought through the dangers that surrounded them, he led the way. The Knight always had his sword drawn. Even at times of peace when she would ask him to put it into his sheath, he would never give in to her insistent pleas, knowing that danger always lurked nearby.

Day after day, the Knight’s calloused hand would close around the dainty hand of the Lady, as they battled up the hill. Together they faced giants, dragons, and evil authorities. There were times of celebration, tragedy, and even abandonment, but they always faced these times together and their hearts became as one. He, leading the way, wielded his sword at all danger, and she was safely protected in his shadow.  And now, nearing the end of the battle, she knew the Knight had done his job well. She was confident that one day when he stood before his Lord, he would hear him say, “Well done, thy good and faithful servant.”

 

shield

Although I am not foolish enough to think that my life is perfect and that my husband is my knight in shining armor, I am wise enough to know that I have a great family and a great husband. He’s not perfect, but neither am I, but we have become perfect for each other.

But since today is our 38th anniversary, I wanted to let The Farmer know that I do appreciate his leadership in our family. And no, we haven’t fought any literal giants, dragons, or evil authorities (well maybe evil authorities), but we have fought against the Giants of Debt, Doubt, and Despair. And continually slay the dragons named Sickness, Indecision, and Busyness.

But together, and with God’s guidance, and the sword of Wisdom, we have survived. We have throttled the statistical dragon of divorce and infidelity, we have killed the giant of non-communication, and we have nourished the meadows of Love, Contentment, and Family.

 

Happy Anniversary, Farmer!

 

 

Outsourcing On The Farm

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The Farmer has been busy for the last several months designing and building his little home away from home–his office/workshop. When he made the decision to retire, we both knew that neither one of us wanted each other to be underfoot too much. So it was decided that he had to have a place to escape to (or be sent to). J

During the late spring, summer, and early fall months, hasn’t been a problem. If the sun is shining, he’s outside. But as the long, dreary days of winter quickly approach, he’s going to be needing a place to burrow into to make his phone calls, text his buddies, and plan his endless “to do” lists. (insert workaholic here).
 
The shed (aka garage) had been built years ago, but never insulated. So we are in the process of transforming it into a dry, warm haven just for him. Earlier we put some tin on the walls and insulated them (you can read about that little adventure >>>Here), but we never finished the ceiling and lights and insulation.
 
We’ve talked about it lots, but each time The Farmer would bring it up, I felt dread and despair sink into my very being at the thought of walking on ladders or scaffolding or anything else that would put me 9 feet up off the concrete floors (a little too dramatic? Hey, you ain’t heard nothing yet!).

At any rate, I whined, complained, begged, pleaded, plotted and prayed until he promised to hire someone to help. So my job was outsourced to a couple of capable carpenters who has done a fantastic job!
wiping shed walls
Of course, The Farmer had to rent a machine so he could wipe down the shed (more toys)

Daughter #5 got to take it for a test drive.

After they are finished, we will still have a little work to do, but keeping with the outsourcing, I think we can get a neighbor to help with the insulation, and a heating/cooling expert to put in the furnace. Looks like The Farmer will be moving into his office by the end of October!

Being Content

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At sea…

 
My eyes were barely open, when the first light of day shone through the port hole. Looking out, I assured myself that the sun had not yet made her appearance. Dressing as quickly and as quietly as possible, I slipped out of the room to catch the elevator. Few people were out at this time of the morning, so grabbing a cup of coffee was not a problem.
I rushed through the dining room and out across the deck. The temperature was perfect; a little bite of cool air, yet the warmth of the day was not far behind.
 
Climbing the stairway to the first level wasn’t high enough, so I ran up the second set of steps, and then the third. As my head popped above the staircase rail, the wind threatened to blow me back down, but I held my ground.
 
I quickly rushed to the starboard side on the forward deck. The wind was wild and tumultuous, but I didn’t care. I loved bathing in its warmth. Peering over the side at the ocean, I was once again awestruck with the magnificent sight before me. The deep blue waves seemed as rich as velvet swirling around the ship. And as the sun rose above the horizon, there appeared to be an innumerable amount of sparkling diamonds cast upon the surface of the water. 
Oh! What a glorious sight!

sun rise on the ocean


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Back on the Farm…

 

I tossed and turned instead of sleeping, and although I could tell that it was morning, I couldn’t begin to guess the time. Grabbing my phone, I checked the time–5:45. There was no use in lying there any longer, so I decided to get up and try to catch some quiet time before the rest of the house came to life. 

After I stumbled to the kitchen to start the coffee pot, I unlocked and opened the front door and then went back into the kitchen to open the back door, too. As the coffee continued to gurgle, I glanced out the door and saw that the eastern sky was beginning to lighten up. It wouldn’t be long now.
 
A few short minutes later, I had my coffee in hand and I slipped out the back door. Although there was a cool breeze blowing, the warmth of the day was already in the air. 
 
The few clouds that were drifting in the sky were beginning to brighten, and turn pink. Soon the orange orb began to slowly rise upon the horizon, and I watched it grow larger as it continued on its path. The sun’s light began to shine upon the dew, and the cows appeared to be nibbling on a field of sparkling diamonds that had been strewn across the pasture. 
Oh! What a glorious day!
 
sun rise on the farm
 
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In case you can’t tell, I’m feeling a little poetic today. What thought inspired this provocative prolific prose? I’m glad you asked!
The other evening as The Farmer and I were sitting out on the front porch (him sitting, me swinging), enjoying the beautiful autumn evening, a thought came to me.
 
          “…be content with such things as you have…” (Heb. 13:5)
 
The joy and relaxation I felt at that moment here on the farm was just as glorious as the moments I had enjoyed on my recent cruise.
 
Speaking my thoughts out loud, I said to The Farmer, “Why would I ever go anyplace else when the farm has everything I need? It’s so peaceful and the weather is so beautiful; and it’s absolutely free!”
 
“I know, we’re really blessed here,” The Farmer quickly agrees. “So, what are you fixing for supper?”
 
…Oh, yeah, now I remember …🙂

The Farmer Has Retired

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The Farmer standing by his Fabick truck
Last day at Fabick Tractor, Fenton, MO

When I look at people who have been working for a long time, it seems to me that they all fall into at least three different groups when it comes to the subject of retirement:
1) Those who fear retirement, 2) Those who can’t seem to acquire enough for retirement, and 3) Those who use work as a means to retirement.

The Farmer belongs to the last group. He’s a hard worker, and he has used a lot of his hard-working years to save up for retirement. He has never been able to sit and enjoy taking time off. I think it’s because he’s had his eye on a greater goal
retirement.

He typically left the house very early, and had at least a 45-minute drive to work. He was very diligent; working in the rain, snow, sleet and hail (the postman had nothing on him). He would often work late, go to bed early, and get up “Grumpy” (me), so I could fix his lunch for the day.

However, that has all changed. He has retired from his “real” job, and he’s learning to live an entirely different way. He’s sleeping in a bit later (I’m afraid that may change when the weather gets warmer), he refuses to go out and work in the rain or snow, and he’s spending way too much time contemplating.

As a son of a farmer, he learned early to work hard. He began following his father around and helping him with whatever he was doing. In fact, some of his most precious memories are chasing his dad out the door as he went out to do some work on the farm. They were always fixing vehicles and machinery or repairing fences. Lots of time was spent clearing the land, picking up rocks, and creating brush piles. And of course there was always wood to be cut, animals to be tended to, and an occasional building project.

Although he has retired from his real job, he has not retired from farming. These next few years are the years we have both been working towards; the years we can spend enjoying the farm. We are raising cattle, instead of building the herd. We get to look out off our porch at fields of grasses, instead of clearing land. And we get to enjoy the things around us, instead of always wanting more.

Oh, that doesn’t mean there won’t be building projects, and machinery to work on, or fences that will need mending, but for the most part he has plans of putting up hay, watching the cattle grow, and enjoying all that God has allowed us to acquire.

This brings to mind a story in which Christ told concerning covetousness. He said that a farmer spent his whole life building for himself. He had land, built barns, and gained riches. One day he stopped and looked at all he had acquired and decided to tear his barns down and build bigger barns to hold more of the things that he wanted. But before he could do that, God ended his life here on earth.

The Bible records that he was a fool, not because he achieved so much, but because as he gained everything he could to benefit himself, and never gave thought to prepare for eternity. Jesus said, “…beware of covetousness: for a man’s life consists not in the abundance of the things which he possesses.” But we are to seek God’s redemption first, and then live according to His blessings.

“For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” Mark 8:36

No matter what riches you have this side of Heaven (or lack thereof), if you do not prepare for eternity, in the end you will lose everything.

“For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” Luke 12:34

The Re-Arrangement

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“Mom! I can’t believe this! How could you?”
I hear my daughter’s panicked questions coming from the other room.
“What happened? Why did you do this? You’ve got to put it back!”
Rolling my eyes and laying down my laptop, I get up and go into the kitchen, knowing what the problem is before I even walk into the room. There I see my 16 year-old daughter standing with all the kitchen cabinet doors flung open. The bewildered look on her face and the hands flailing about her head, tell me she is not happy with what she sees.
When she notices that she has my attention, the shrills begin again, “What have you done? This is no good, no good at all! You can’t keep changing the cabinets. The cups don’t go near the plastic bowls, and all the plates are suppose to be on the same shelf! Please tell me you haven’t changed the stuff in the drawers. Aagh! You moved the silverware! Change it back! Change it back!”
Oh, brother, I think to myself, and then reassuring her I say, “It’s fine. I just moved around some things to make it more convenient for me.” Rolling her eyes, she takes her Oreo and leaves the room. This is a familiar episode we go through any time I decide to rearrange the cabinets, or the furniture, or if I turn the kitchen table in a different direction. My kids act like I have committed some heinous crime. What’s that about?
Is their childhood so unstable that they have to hold on to every steady fixture or utensil that has ever crossed their paths? I don’t believe it is. We have lived in the same place for 25 years, we’ve been going to the same church for 10 years, their Dad has had the same job for 35 years, and they’ve attended home school all of their life with me, their stay-at-home mom, as their teacher. How much more steady could their lives be?
Regardless, this is my kitchen; I do all of the cooking and most of the cleaning. The only time my kids like to come into the kitchen is when I am fixing them something to eat and they are waiting on me to fill their plates.
I used to be more sympathetic. I didn’t want to damage them in some way that would cause them to fail in life. But now seven of my nine kids are grown, and I decided it really doesn’t matter how careful you are with their psyche, they all turn out a little screwy anyway. (hee, hee… oh wait, maybe I am the problem)
I’m just kidding on that point. I know that parents are responsible for some of their children’s idiosyncrasies (hopefully, we are their biggest influence, after all). And I think it’s obvious to this self-proclaimed doctor of psychology, that children are affected by change. However, when that change is done in my domain, they need to be able to accept it.
I do not go into their bedrooms and make them change them to suit me. There are some requirements of keeping a half-decent room, but other than that, they are free to arrange and rearrange their rooms any way they would like.

Maybe I should inform them that if they want to help more in the kitchen, then I would allow them to have an input into the way it’s arranged or not rearranged. But since that’s not going to happen, I will continue to move things around the way I like them. And I’m sure they will continue to complain about where things are…or aren’t. 

The Porch Light

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Coming home to a cold, dark, empty house is such a sad feeling. I’ve never liked it. Even if all of us were coming home together, I wanted a light to be burning some place in the house to welcome us home. When my children began to go places without me, I would always leave the front porch light on and the door unlocked. As they began driving, I would leave the front porch light on, the door unlocked, and wait up for them. Now that some of them have moved out and have their own homes, if they leave after dark, I stand by the door and wait until their tail lights go up and over the big hill and go out of sight before I turn off the porch light,

Fortunately for me, as each one grew up and moved away (as it should be J), there would be another teenager to leave the porch light on for. But with the passing of time and my increasing age, I found I couldn’t keep the same hours as my last teenager (son #4), and would sometimes go to bed before he got home. But during the night some time, I would wake up, see the porch light was off, know the door was locked, and he was home safely.
Recently, son #4 was married. After we got home from the wedding celebration, I began to lock up the house and turn off the lights, walking over to the front door, I reached up to turn on the front porch light and realized I didn’t need to leave it on.
“Leave it on,” I said to Myself.
“There’s no reason to”, Myself answered. “He’s on his honeymoon, I don’t think he’ll be coming in tonight.”
“But just in case there’s an emergency”, replied I, knowing that there wouldn’t be.
“Well, maybe just for a little while”, Myself gave in.
But eventually, I had to go back and turn off the light and lock the door. I was surprised at the sudden feeling of loneliness that was brought about by this simple ritual of turning off the porch light. Although this signifies another chapter closing on Enloe Farms, there are still lots of stories to be lived out, talked about, and retold around our dinner table.

Just a note, I still have 2 teenagers at home, but they have to be home before dark! J


The Porch Light
The porch light shining through the night
Reminds me of God’s shining Light
That brings about some wayward soul
Who is lost in the world so dark and cold.
I leave the light burning on the porch
So none of my children will be caught in the lurch
The light breaks through the darkness dim
And guides them home to me again.

My Grandma (Still) Rocks!

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My most precious memories growing up are the times I spent at my Grandma Lorene and Grandpa Dee’s house. They, along with most of my Mother’s family, lived in a small rural town that has just lately risen to the 4-digit mark in population. The town is small enough that everyone knows everyone else, and most of them are related.

My grandparents reared their six children (with a lot of visiting cousins and friends) in a 2-story house that sat on a huge plot of ground just spitting distance from the town’s square. The front yard was twice as big as the average yards today. Any time the grandkids were all there, we would be playing “steal-the-flag”. There were other games of kickball, volleyball, badminton, croquet, and every other game imaginable to a yard full of kids. We would sit under the apple tree eating the little green sour apples that fell to the ground, and ride our bikes up and down the sidewalk or all over town (that’s when towns were safe).

We could go on a walk by ourselves and we did often. We could walk up to the drugstore, the general store, and down to the ball field. We crossed the bridge that went over the creek and we climbed into the old theatre that was falling down. It had water in the basement and we climbed over the broken boards and rummaged through the rubble. I can’t believe we didn’t uncover a snake or fall into the water!

Our Christmases were spent with them (one year Santa Claus had to come to our house early, because my brother, my sister, and I got bikes for Christmas and Santa Claus couldn’t deliver them to my grandparent’s house). I remember sledding down the big hill in front of their house, which was actually the main road, and then coming in for homemade hot chocolate that burned my tongue so badly I couldn’t taste for two days.

But my most precious memory is the front porch. Grandma and Grandpa’s front porch reached all away across the front of their great big house and then wrapped around the whole side of the house. It was great! They had room for two swings and lots of chairs. But the swing is what I always sat in…with Grandma.

Grandparents home in Winona, MO
Myers home, Winona, MO

Grandma would sit in the swing and rock back and forth, back and forth, in a leisurely, methodical manner. And if we were fortunate, she would sing to us. She would sing songs that taught us about the Savior, and songs that would praise the Father, and sometimes some cute little ditty that she learned when she was a little girl.

All through my adult life, those recollections have been seeded in my memory, and when we built our front porch, the first thing we added was a swing. As I rock back and forth, I think of the sweet memories of childhood, wishing my Grandmother could come and rock with me. And though that wish may never come to fruition, when our grandchildren come to play in our great big yard and sit on our porch that stretches across the front of our house and eat the pears that drop to the ground from our pear trees, I find solace in knowing that I am blessed to continue the legacy that I received from my Grandma Lorene.

Recently I had a chance to visit my Grandmother at my Aunt’s house where she lives. I walked in and sat beside her in a two-seated glider. After a moment, she began to rock back and forth, back and forth…what memories! Sitting beside her, we rocked the afternoon away, talking, laughing, and just spending time together.

At 94 years old, my Grandmother still Rocks!

Me and Gr Lorene
Grandma Lorene and me