All Creatures Great and Small

 All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful:

The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,

Each little bird that sings,

He made their glowing colors,

He made their tiny wings.

The purple headed mountains,

The river running by,

The sunset and the morning

That brightens up the sky.

The cold wind in the winter,

The pleasant summer sun,

The ripe fruits in the garden,

He made them everyone.

He gave us eyes to see them,

And lips that we m ight tell

How great is God Almighty,

Who has made all things well.

This was originally written as a hymn by Cecil Alexander and published as part of a collection of hymns for children in 1848. James Herriot brought further fame to the first stanza as each became the title for his beloved books about his experience as a country veterinarian.

I fell in love with those books as a middle schooler and it delighted my inner and outer animals lover and appreciator of God's amazing creativity in all things. 

Many years later, I am now rereading them.  What a delightful adventure for any animal lover.

My Journey to Badass

 

My grown daughter gifted me this bracelet for Christmas. Because of the pandemic, we weren't together while opening presents. I was sitting in my lazy boy chair as I opened the package that came in the mail from Nordstrom's.  "My how fancy," I thought. I love jewelry and she knows that is always a safe bet to give me a gift of earrings or bracelets.  Badass?  Never, ever in my life have I ever been referred to as a badass before. I've been called other uncomplimentary names, but nothing close to this one. 

It didn't take long for a smile to creep across my face.  I kind of liked the idea that my offspring thinks of me in this manner.  When my children were growing up, I would try to give them a dirty look that would shock them into behaving -- it never worked. In fact, they would laugh at my attempts at ruling them with fear.

Still trying to decide if this description fit, and cautiously enjoying my new moniker, I asked for a definition. She wanted me to describe it for myself.  I pressed her.

Boldness.  Caring for your family fearlessly, she offered. Oh yes, I thought, I would like that to be me.

My son chimed in at my pushing for more.  "Boldness in creativity -- for yourself and others."  Oh yes, I like this too.  

I checked out the dictionary. Merriam Webster has two definitions. The first description is someone who is tough, gets into trouble and can be offensive.  Yikes, maybe not. But in the second definition, more accommodated by another generation said that it describes one who is formidable or skilled in some area, impressive. I like the word formidable. The women I look up to with great respect, are formidable. My heroes are formidable.  So the definition has transformed in the vernacular over the years. I like it.

Continuing my research, I found a wonderful article, 8 Signs You're A Benevolent Badass, on "Thought Catalogue's" website, written by Depti Singh.  She tells her readers that this kind of badass isn't like its "savage counterparts."  Here's the list:

                        1. You know your own self worth and don't settle for anything less

                        2.  You are a rebellious dreamer

                        3.  You lead with love

                        4.  You have boundaries and respect other people's boundaries

                        5.  You are a hard worker

                        6.   Trash opinions don't matter to you

                        7.   You are a visionary and want to give back to society

                        8.   You know how to have fun!

Now I am beyond delighted!  Not only am I a badass, I, when I am at my best, am a benevolent badass. And I shall now continue embracing this powerful, creative, loving, formidable woman that I am.  And I am further delighted that my children can see this in me.                      

I wanted to hold baby Jesus

                            

When I was growing up, Mom and I would decorate for Christmas precisely on December 16 -- never the 15th or the 17th.  December 16 was my Dad's birthday. The goal, I'm quite sure, was to have a perfect setting and perfect meal --steak, mushrooms, fried potatoes with pineapple upside down cake -- when he rolled in from work at 4:30.  (Just a side note -- all decorations came down December 26).

Each year the house was decorated like the year before.  The manger for baby Jesus had it's place at one of the end tables flanking the couch. For some reason, that's the only piece of a nativity set we owned. As I child, I was quite satisfied with that. As an only child, that meant I didn't have to share baby Jesus when he would suddenly appear on December 25. 

I remember being so excited for His coming. No worries about Joseph finding an Inn, no thoughts of Mary's pain in giving birth, no messy animals to consider, no a single shepherd or wise man interrupting such a private moment. Just the main attraction. I couldn't wait to hold that perfect 2inch specimen of a baby boy.  There was an awe instilled in me by my parents' and an internal knowing of how life changing Jesus was in world history and in the life of that little girl on Lauer Road. 

At some point, Mom began to acquire the pieces to the Hummel nativity set. She would get one each year for her Christmas gift -- that and chocolate covered cashews. The most exciting year was when we added a standing camel.  He was huge.  I still liked my lone baby Jesus best.

Mom and Dad are gone. I have the Hummel set, but can't quite bring myself to set it up. I started my own collection 30 years ago. The above photo shows some of the work of a Michigan artist, Maryfrances Phillippi. There are so many pieces and I love having such a variety of animals represented -- how often have you seen a turtle in a nativity. 

Tiny baby Jesus could get lost in the gathering. Not a chance.  I was trained at a very young age, that Jesus was the one character in the Holy Story to hold dear. And I do.

Notice the wise men, with a camel, with a turtle.

My Tribe

There's a whole lots of animals here. I try to spend time with all of them. Some of them aren't eager to have any sort of relationship with me, while other are quite eager for my time and attention. They want to be with me, want my attention, want to be touched, and want to play.  Those relationships with my animals brings me great joy.

It is my practice to take a nap in the afternoon. As soon as I begin to get in position on the couch and unfurl the quilt that will cover me -- the dogs are jockeying for positions. Now Truffle, my miniature schnauzer, is the oldest and my favorite animals on the farm. She gets the prime position closest to my head. That position is non negotiable. The other two settle in to spots further down with some negotiating. I love that they want to be with me.

Putting my seven chickens to bed at night, give me a great sense of contentment. I count them, finding  six in a row, with Saffron on her usual post far away from the rest. Each night I thank them and tell them good night. I delight in their contented chirping and noises made by happy chickens.

My goats each deserve a greeting and a touch. I know that Morning Glory will want her belly rubbed.  I know that Petunia will walk on my feet and push everyone away until I acknowledge her. Butterscotch will require a moment alone to crawl into my lap. Over with the bucks, they'll rub their heads on me to mark me as their own. Phin will snuffle in ear and touch his face gently to mine. Once they have greeted me, welcomed me into their space -- we can be content in spending time together. I love it when they treat me just like another one of the goats. I think that is a huge honor. I want to be one with them.

Then there are the birds that we feed, the barn cat that brings us gifts from hunting.

Then there is the house that is only ours, the property -- the land that I feel that I am now part of. There is a sacredness of place that I require. I don't want to be temporary, but I want to know this land, be part of it.

I share this home with my husband, Dave of 19 years. He is a driving force in gathering all that is on this spot we call home. We each have two grown children who come and are immediately part of this place when they visit. All of this -- the sum total of all these relationships -- is my tribe. 



Home, where my tribe lives

 

 

 

Playing with the goats

Stop. Savor. Repeat.

Life is to be savored.

 I have always worked towards that and have tried to remind myself of that ideal in times of stress and uncertainty. Or when there's more things on my list of things to do than I can possibly accomplish in my lifetime.

   Stop. Savor. Repeat.

In the midst of Covid 19 running rampant around our world, this is more important than ever. It's a scary uncertain time. Most of us have never been through something like this before. The enemy can't be seen and it's difficult to do battle. We are over reacting because we feel really helpless.

I had to chuckle as folks were having fits about not being able to go to church last Sunday. Now, I don't attend a church very often any more, but after years of doing so, I think folks should be able to stave off the panic. Why should it be so difficult to figure our how to worship on your own? If you normally go to church on Sunday, then it would seem you'd know God well enough, to know how to spend time celebrating, praising and being still with God. That time is to be savored.

The opportunity to stay at home and savor this place that is my safe sanctuary is an amazing opportunity. Not to lesson the seriousness for the reason we are called to self isolate, but it's a good thing. Maybe if you feel trapped, this is a sign that you need to change your life. I want to escape to my home -- not from it.

I am savoring not having to rush to things or to places or accomplish more than I feel like doing in a day. The stress of getting things done in a hurry has been removed. In the past few days, I've actually given myself permission to do the very things that I love the most.

Stop. Savor. Repeat.

I'm savoring time to just sit with my goats, snuggling with my miniature schnauzer longer than I normally allow myself, lingering over my morning coffee, crocheting to my hearts content. I'm taking  care of things on my endless list that have been on there for a ridiculous amount of time. And just savoring the home I love, without just worrying about what needs to be taken care. What an amazing gift.

Yes, the reality is scary serious. Yes, I'm being responsible. And a resounding yes, I'm enjoying where I am at this moment

Stop. Savor. Repeat.

The Glorious Tree

This is a beautiful old oak tree that I met recently on a trip to Petaluma, California. It is lovingly regarded at a retreat center there. At some point it had fallen over in a storm and yet it continues to grow. It's beautiful and I found myself drawn to it.  If I'd been there alone, I would have been tempted to climb on one of the lower branches with a book and a soda and luxuriate through the day. How wonderful it would have been to have a tree like that as a child and spending the day with it as one would a precious friend.

It wasn't just the size of the tree, or it's imaginary play potential that I found irresistible. I felt a connection to its message of thriving and overcoming.  I mean, that tree was growing as magnificently as can be prior to the storm that caused it horizontal direction of growth. It was doing what every tree is made to do -- grow tall and full and glorious. I just bet that everyone expected that tree to give up and die.

Instead it gracefully took it's change in direction in stride and continued being glorious. That tree isn't just a survivor, it's a glorious conquerer of with winds of chain, the storms that life eventually brings. The older I get the worse I am about change, but this bold and beautiful tree gives me courage to continue to fully live.  Those lessons of encouragement are all around us if we just pay attention.

One Sweet Cat or "And They Called it Kitty Love"

Marie on the left and Donny hogging the plush bed.
 

Donny and Marie have been our fearless barn cats for at least seven years. They were free from a sweet family I met because there was a cardboard sign advertising the kittens at the side of the road.  I was delighted to be so resourceful as I brought them home to rid us of all manner of vermin,.

Marie turned out to be the more serious hunter of the two, but they both brought us hunting trophies from their adventures.  The first time I looked curiously down on the welcome mat and saw just the face of a vole -- well, I felt that was a rite of passage into farmer-hood. I have become quite accustomed to rodent body parts left at my back door.

Donny has been the big snuggler of the two.  Marie is quite temperamental and not one to allow you to touch her. He tended to greet everyone who came by and lavish them with attention. Of course, he expected that same lavish attention in return. The less attention you paid, the more his front claws came into play. If allowed, he would climb right up the front of you to get your full participation in this exchange of affection.

One day, in the center of the intensity of goats being born, he planted himself in the midst of the messy chaos so he wouldn't miss out on anything.

Occasionally Donny would try to take a field trip in someone's car.  I had to rescue him from a contractors truck once. And one visitor had to return to the house once she was a mile or so away to return our travel wanting cat. 

It's been a couple of weeks since we've seen Donny.  My guess is that a predator larger than he did his job in the circle of species. I try not to think about it. I ache if I think about it.

We've got a lot of animals on the property. There's 25 goats, 3 dogs, 7 chickens, 3 turtles and one cat. The are born, they live the best life we can give them and eventually they die. Just like us.

I have a whole bunch of houseplants. I'm not particularly gifted in growing but I do love having them around. The heat went  out in the house a while back and the cold Michigan winter weather caused a few unexpected deaths.

If you love having life around you -- as I do, then it stands to reason that you are going to have to experience the sorrow of death, too. You certainly can't have one without the other.

For today, I'm just grateful for the many loving years a sweet cat gave us. And, shall redouble my effort to appreciate all of life each day.