(Image compliments of
The Vintage Moth )
"Hope springs eternal." Isn't that how the quote goes? Well, here at the Conderosa we are living that out! We have jumped into the deep end of the "Gardening Pool" without our floaties. In years past, we have attempted various levels of commitment in this area. But this year, we are all in! For you to fully appreciate the magnitude of this decision, you have to understand a couple of underlying conditions. First of all, we live in arid West Texas. Our rainfall most years borders on "desert" conditions. To make matters a little more challenging, our well water is so hard it comes out of the hose in gravel form. It contains so many minerals that if you accidentally get it on the leaves of a plant it may kill it. Secondly, I not only do not have a "green" thumb, you could actually say that all ten of my fingers and toes are "black". So in that context, you can see why I started this post off with that quote. Quite apropos, don't you think?
If I concentrate really hard, I can usually remember to water a few potted flowers in the front yard. I walk by them everyday and when I hear them wheezing, it reminds me they might be a little thirsty. This year, however, Kregg actually agreed to let me try something new! He built me a BEAUTIFUL raised bed kitchen garden right out my kitchen window. (That way I remember it is there!!) I have herbs and a few vegetables in it. Additionally, we are attempting a composter. As many kitchen scraps as we generate, it seemed an easy project to undertake. We will see . . .
Now, you might think that would be enough for someone who is as horticulturally (I just made that word up, I think) challenged as I am. But NO! Of course not!
My sweet husband is so patient.
Our house sits on an acre, so our back yard is a nice size. We have a shop in the back that is 1000 square feet with a covered porch that is 15' x 50'. From the shop porch back to the back fence is about 100'. Kregg built me a pipe fence (painted almond to match our perimeter fencing) enclosing the entire area from the shop back, so it is about 35-40' wide by 100' deep. In previous years, it has been our most fertile weed patch. If only there was a commercial outlet for wild mustard and careless weed. Alas! The only use the "volunteers" serve is to hold the sand in place. This area has also been the collection site for things we didn't have another place to store. There are just a few little things, mind you, like extra pipe for fencing projects, Caleb's 12' aluminum boat given him by our neighbor in return for pruning trees, several chain link gates of various dimensions that used to help enclose different kinds of critters, a hunting blind, and an enormous elliptical head (a big metal bowl for those who don't live in the oil patch) in which you could burn an entire cord of wood at a time. All of those things had previously been spread throughout that entire area. Not any more! Now they are all neatly organized right behind the shop so they don't show. At least not much!
If nothing else, physical labor is good for the soul. I think it will be especially cathartic when it's 110 degrees in the middle of August. Of course, at times the wind blows so hard it sandblasts your eyeballs and exfoliates every bit of exposed skin (sometimes even non-exposed skin). My complexion should be glorious even if all my plants die!
During the court session for Josh and Ben's adoption, Kregg spoke to the court through our translator about our family. The main concern raised by the Russian officials was the number of children we already had and why we wanted more. We weren't allowed to explain how God had given us specific instructions to adopt two little boys. Kregg did, however, explain how we believe in children. At one point, he systematically listed each of our children and their birthdays. I remember wondering why? Why would he, in the short time he had to make our case, include that information. Information that seemed to me not a compelling argument. I couldn't have been more wrong.
After the conclusion of the proceedings wherein we were granted our request to adopt, the government officer, who was later identified to us as the one person we should fear, came up to me. Through our translator, she asked me a heart-rending question. "In America, are there any more men like your husband?"
I was taken aback.
She then proceeded to express her amazement that my husband knew his children so well he was able to recite their birthdays from memory!! A good husband in Russia, she further explained, was one who didn't drink too much or beat his wife too often.
Sort of puts things in perspective, doesn't it?
Kregg certainly doesn't drink too much or beat me too often (or at all). He loves the Lord and seeks to honor and serve Him. He loves all of us enough to do what is best for us, not just what is convenient or comfortable for him. He is a man of integrity and fierce loyalty. And yet, he is truly humble. Combine all of this with a great sense of humor and playfulness and you can begin to see just how blessed our family is to have him. All of these things are of his choosing. They reflect his values.
Completely separate from his chosen character qualities are his innumerable talents and abilities gifted him by the Lord. He can build or fix just about anything. He has a calculator divinely implanted in his brain. He is able, on the spur of the moment, to compose a parody on any one of several thousand songs residing in his mental jukebox. Belting it out for the entertainment and amusement of all, laughter inevitably follows. (This is especially effective when the big kids have several friends in attendance.)
Hunting, fishing, camping and traveling are some favorite pastimes. He can bait a kid's hook, or help gut a kid's deer with the best of them!
I am truly blessed to be married to this precious man. Thank you, Lord! Please continue to bless my wonderful husband. And help me be the help meet he needs.
It is my firm belief that dust bunnies will eventually take over the world. From my observations, they multiply faster than their furry cousins. Not that I actually have any dust bunnies in my house, you understand. Just contemplating important principles of life. . .
(Mackenzy sent this pic--no idea where it came from)
Bill Gothard defines the character quality of Patience in the following way:
"Learning how to wait to fulfill personal goals. Increasing the time you can wait between achievement and reward. Learning to accept difficult situations as from God without giving Him a deadline to remove them."
I have always struggled with patience. While examining my heart, it becomes apparent that I am most likely to become impatient when things don't go the way I thought they should. I have a preconceived ideal that should universally apply to every person and situation. Did you not receive a copy of my plan? How is that possible?
What it boils down to is another quote from Bill Gothard: "When we focus on our rights, it produces rebellion. When we focus on our responsibilities, it produces revival.
I tend to believe I have a right for things to go my way. I want the kids to do what they are told the first time, or at least the twenty-seventh time. When they don't, it is easy for me to become impatient with them. If things are left out instead of put away, I can get irritated. Of course with this many children I could make a list of examples that would fill reams of pages, but I think my point is sufficiently established.
When I feel that frustration welling up in my soul (mind, will, and emotions), what is my response? Do I rejoice that I am once more given another opportunity to practice patience? Or do I respond in the flesh and dishonor my Lord. Do I think to myself, "I shouldn't have to _________________ again." Fill in the blank with whatever. How I respond depends on whether I am focusing on my "rights" or my "responsibilities."
The Lord taught me a huge lesson when He told me to "own my job". I had to really study that concept because it certainly didn't come easily to me. I am someone who sees the world as black or white, right or wrong. I have to constantly remind myself that most people do not have the same perspective. It has to do with our spiritual giftings. To own my job requires me to remember that the dots in my head connect in a very straight line, but those over whom I have authority need me to have expectations and give directions in such a way that connects their dots. Some of my children's dots connect in a very, very circuitous path. I am not mentioning any names, kids. When I work out of that understanding, my frustration level drops, as does the frustration of those following my instructions.
We have so much fun when I remember that the shortest distance between two points, while definitely the most efficient, is not nearly as scenic. And I do love great scenery.
One summer, we were going to spend several days at a cabin in the Pecos Wilderness in New Mexico. A dear friend of ours was willing to house sit for us and take care of our menagerie. We left with our crew and drove the 9 hours to the cabin. What a gorgeous setting! We were right beside a roaring river and only a stone's throw from two trout ponds. Even though it was the middle of summer, we had to wear jackets in the evenings and early mornings. Idyllic is the perfect adjective.
Things were going well for us. Unfortunately, our faithful house-sitter was in the middle of a crisis!
At that time, we had some turkeys as part of our crazy critter collection. And yes, they are as dumb as people say. We started with six, but that number soon dwindled. One evening before we went to bed, all the turkeys were fine. The next morning one of them was lying in the pen dead with not a mark on it. We had no idea what had happened until Kregg picked it up by the feet. Water poured out of its mouth. Conclusion? It had rained a little during the night and the turkey had DROWNED.
Kregg was burning a pile of trash one day out in the back. He threw an empty turkey feed bag on the fire and one of the turkeys ran into the fire to get the bag!! We tried to shoo it out, but it just stood there! After finally dragging it out, its poor feet were burned and some feathers singed, but we thought it might be okay. For the next two days however, it just stood there in shock ,we guessed. We kept expecting it to drop over dead, but it just kept standing there. Then, remarkably, it snapped out of it. From that point forward, that particular turkey was always a little odder than the others. It actually thought it was a dog! It would come up to us and rub up against our legs wanting us to pet its head. We named him Tom. We could stand on the back porch and cry, "Gobble, gobble, gobble." Tom would answer us right back. Every time!
We had them enclosed in a chain link pen. Being rookie turkey farmers, we thought that would be sufficient. At night, they would roost on the top rail of their pen and then settle back down inside their pen each morning. But one morning during our trip, one of the turkeys came down on the outside of the pen into the backyard.
Now Hercules, our gigantic Alaskan Malamute, was a perfect gentleman around our pets. He never offered to hurt any of them. Goats, sheep, and turkeys, however, were not pets. They were prey.
Our house-sitting friend kept Hercules in the house because it was so hot outside. When she needed to leave, she would put him in his kennel and he would patiently await her return. The morning of our story, she let him outside for a little while before she left for work. She had no idea there was a turkey running around the backyard. Calling him back in, she kenneled him and left for the day.
When she arrived home from work and opened the door, she just about lost it! The aroma emanating from the house was toxic. Searching for the source it soon became apparent it was coming from Hercules' kennel. Poor Hercules had thought turkey would be a tasty treat for breakfast. His insides couldn't have disagreed more strongly. And he was covered in results. Our poor friend faithfully cleaned up the mess. Can you imagine? I really don't want to.
She called us that afternoon, and bless her heart, was apologizing for letting it happen!! I didn't even know what to say. I tried to reassure her that the loss of the turkey was in no way, shape, or form, her fault and was not a big deal at all. She just kept apologizing. We were horrified that our animals had created such a catastophic mess for her, and there was no way we could fix it or help her! We did bring her a nice present as a way to tell her "thank you" for all her hard work! It in no way compensated her for the trauma she had endured!! We just didn't have enough money to buy a present that nice! It would have needed to be a new car or house or something!
We no longer have turkeys and have no plans of owning any in the future!
