steady rains

...for He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. ~ Matthew 5:45

The last two weeks I have been very bothered/baffled/flabbergasted/disgusted by the amount of postings and comments I've seen on social media from other Christians. Enough so that I've seriously considering taking a fast from Facebook and Twitter just to keep my head in place.  I don't want to be a friend of Job and start telling them how wrong their theology is when they're down and out. But I also don't like having such insane thoughts running around in my head all day. 

Example A: My sister is very sick from the chemo and is already losing her hair after the second treatment, but we know she is going to overcome this because she is a dedicated Christian. 
Say WHAT? Where do people get the idea that just because we are saved we are protected from dying? Yes, there are stories in the Bible where God grants people more time (or even brought Lazarus back from the dead), but there are many more stories where God in His sovereignty chose to deliver from earth's chains by death.

Example B: Psychiatry is fake medicine. People need to recognize that Jesus is the only answer.

This one is not a direct quote, but I saw it from several people, expressed in many ways, after the Navy Yard shooting. And I always wonder if that person goes to the doctor for an infection and accepts the meds offered without having bloodwork done. If so, they're treating actual symptoms and not a "real" disease, just what they doctor assumes they have. And contrary to what people think they know, psychiatrists actually have medical degrees, actually do bloodwork on their patients, require brain scans, as well as clinical evaluations and counseling sessions.

Until one has personally witnessed how mental illness destroys families, even Christian families, a person will never understand how devastating this is. I can't tell you how many suicides have happened because:
a) they didn't believe they had a mental illness because that can't happen to Christians,
b) a pastor tried Biblical counseling before finally recognizing he was dealing with something medical and not spiritual and that in the process had endangered that entire family,
c)shunning/lack of support from the church family.

I personally know of three very solid Christians who suffered with mental illness to the point they took their lives. And a nearby town, Clayton, had a man, a Christian who attended a conservative, Bible-believing church, who quit taking his meds because he was dealing with his illness via prayer and Bible study. His family in CA had not heard from him in several years. He married here, had a child, and when that child was several years old, he brutally murdered her. A Christian SBI agent said it was one of the most horrific and disturbing crime scenes he had ever investigated. The father told the agents "the voices in my head told me to". 

My husband, after his car wreck that left him paralyzed, had a few people who actually told him they knew God would heal him because he was a "true Christian".  When God chose to not physically heal Bobby, they cut him off. Obviously, he didn't have enough faith. I clump those families in the same category as people who do not believe Christians cannot have mental illnesses. They mean well, but their theology is out-of-whack and off-base.

And when I read these posts, I have a roller coaster of emotions. Sometimes I get angry. Other times, I fight the memories and tears all day long. A few days it prompts me to pray for friends and family members. But it also takes me back to the Word. I think of the Hebrew boys and their words to the king, that God would deliver them, but if He chose not to, he was still the greatest God. And of Job in midst of his trials, "Even if He slays me..."  Even if no one understands and makes mocking and hurtful comments, even if I have to take that midnight phone call to pray with a relative as they bear the anguish that never ends of yet another relative valiantly fighting mental illness, of their child not knowing when they walk in the door from school whether or not Mom will have a gun to their head that day or will be singing praise songs, or that the cancer has spread, EVEN IF...it doesn't mean God's love for me is any less, His plan for me subpar, or my faith has floundered. It simply means I have an unseen hand guiding me through it all.

If I only had garage doors....

Sunday there was the tiniest of blurbs in the paper about a German company that makes garage door covers. I had seen a few of these online a few years ago and found them hysterical. Not only does this company sell garage door covers, but they also sell door coverings and fake window decals/wall art as well. One day when I have money to spend and have garage doors, I am so going to do this.

If you have 15-20 minutes to spare one day and want some laughs, check this site out! :)

high alert

Last night I pulled in the driveway after church and saw a pile of feathers outside the small hen house. NOT a good sign. And the more I looked, the worse it got. Most of the carnage was outside the dog's fence line, but there was one bird inside the fence line, which made me yell at him. Of course, he brought the dead chicken to me. I could only see the bantam rooster and three hens inside the large hen house, so I thought we'd had lost 2/3 of the flock. Once I realized the fence was still working, I knew there was no way Buster could have killed them.

This morning, the main rooster and two white hens showed up, so we only lost 1/2 of the birds. The big rooster is hurt, but I think he'll heal.

What we didn't realize until this morning is that Buster is hurt.

After a visit the vet, I got to spend the afternoon taking apart his pen and closing off the back porch, as he is now in quarantine there for the next 9 days. We return to the vet Saturday to see how his bite wounds are healing. Evidently he jumped on top of/or cornered one of the animals (the vet seems to think it was a pack of dogs), as all his injuries are underneath him.

He's still scared, a little skittish of people, and for Buster, is calm. We'll see how things go in the morning when I have to wash his wounds.

This was not how I planned to spend my day, but I'm thankful Bobby is retired now and was able to drive us to the vet (I don't think Buster could have climbed up in my car) and did a morning inspection of the carnage so I knew whether or not my night-time assessment was correct. Thankfully there wasn't too many surprises in store for us.

I guess the rest of this week I'll be working on re-inforcing the hen house. On days like this, I'm don't think animals are worth the trouble and heartache.

OH...and after four days of no phone service and internet (thank you DOT mowers for cutting the weeds/trees on the side of the road, but must you always mow down the phone boxes on our road?), we finally had service returned a little before 7pm tonight. That was a very positive note to end on.

tick, tick, tick

One week from tomorrow.
Five blocks, a border, and the binding.
Eight days.
Five days, if I take into consideration a friend is coming over to teach me how to do binding the right way next Tuesday.
I've watched the youtube videos. I've had a friend show me how before. But my binding corners still come out crooked.
And I'm starting to get very, very nervous.
I know I'm not an expert quilter. I know every spot of my quilt that will cause a quilter's eyebrows to gather or spike. And I'm okay with that. I am still a beginner, after all.
I just want this quilt to be done, satisfactory (is satisfactorily a word? It doesn't sound right.), and safely delivered the day after elections are over.
Then I can breathe. I can rest, knowing that this challenge from a friend and to myself are over.
I will tell this voice in the back of my head to SHUT UP!
I am not even going to think about a quilt for next year's fair, even if I did go and photograph my okra plants last week with a crazy idea for a state fair quilt.
Now I just have to decide whether or not to post a picture of the quilt before it is finished, or wait until it's actually hanging up at the fair. (Provided they deem it show-worthy!)
Even more to the moment, I need to decide whether to quilt a full moon or crescent moon on one of the last five blocks. I think I've already figured out the sun.
I can see the finish line!

heat frenzied thoughts

There's nothing like feeling hot while cutting grass, especially while weed-eating or using a push mower. All kinds of crazy thoughts run through your mind, like downsizing to a house with a tiny yard, a town home that only has enough room in the yard for a tiny "city" garden (what my Mom in law calls container gardening) and a patio, or an apartment complex that's super nice and has its own laundromat and swimming pool, both indoor and outdoors. 

Don't get me wrong. I love our fruit and nut trees, our garden, our chickens and pond (and sometimes I even love my crazy dog). But when I'm hot and tired and the work seems endless, it can be more than a bit overwhelming. And during these times, thoughts of adding another animal or produce/fruit bearing thing is paramount with insanity.

And as each year passes, I'm slowly starting to comprehend with a small ounce of compassion the old people who mourn on television that they've lost everything they've ever worked for. When you sweat and bleed, fuss and fume over your house and yard for twenty plus years, the phrase "I've invested my whole life in it" makes a little more sense.  I still think it's wrong to have your heart so heavily invested in material objects that you're in the depth of despair should you lose them, but it would seem like a lot of work done for nothing should we suddenly move or lose the property.

And with that said, I'm headed back outside to cut grass.

gross

Last night I closed up the hen houses as it was getting dark, grabbed the eggs, and immediately felt something squishy. I looked to make sure there wasn't a frog or something in the nesting box. Nope. It was an egg...without a shell. If you can see the egg on the right (with the dirt), that's the egg that has a shell-less membrane. So I've been online trying to figure out a) why and b) what to do about it.
We've had this happen once before, and the problem seemed to take care of itself. I'm hoping that will be the case this time, but if we get another one in the next few days I'll have to start adjusting their feed.  On the upside, our egg count was up today, which was very good indeed.

grapes

Step One: Wash the grapes and pull off any remaining stems.

Step Two: 5 cups of grapes to 1.5 cups of water. Simmer.

Step Three: Smush their guts out and strain into a jar.

 Which leaves you with juice.

Step Four: Dump the guts.

Step Five: Make jelly.