Category: Motherhood and Memories

Now That You’ve Touched Eternity

February 26, 2019 / / 0 Comments

I think of you when the clouds turn grey and swell; when the rain and my tears mix softening the sting of salt on my cheeks. I think of you when I break into a new bale of sweet smelling hay; and when the sun sets, revealing cotton-candy strokes of color that God uses when He paints the sky. When I find new life on the homestead, I think of you then too in the stillness and in awe of little miracles.  I feel you near when the steady hum of the bees surrounds me.  Sometimes I think everything I need to know about life is right outside my door. You and Grandaddy taught me that.

I wonder if things would different between us, now that you’ve touched eternity; if you’d watch the waves lap lazily along the shore, wishing you could still fuss at me. “Sit in the shade, Ash” falling on deaf ears while I bask in the serenity of a sun-filled sky.  My reddened body later lying in miserable, defiant regret.

I wonder if you’d be proud of me. If you’d see how motherhood is transforming me; a human metamorphosis.  Do caterpillars feel this kind of pain too, when they grow through change? I wonder if you share the stories of my childhood with angels; if you tell them about the mom I would pretend to be back then, and of the one that I’m becoming.  I can hear you saying “she has a lot on her plate” over coffee and crumb cake.

With forever in your back pocket, would you tell me to slow down? “The very hairs on your head are numbered, Ash.”  I hear you whisper “soften” in my mind when the busyness and chaos take over and my emotions rage. I wonder if you’d put your hand on mine and say “don’t be ugly” when I lose my patience entirely.  Would you tell me to keep my eyes on the seasons? “In the winter the earth rests, and so should you.” I know my time here is limited, there’s just so much to be done.

I wonder what you’d think of this life I’ve built around all you taught me.  If you know that I’m living it to honor you, and keep your memory alive.  I wonder if you’d tell me to keep working at it; if you know the dreams of my heart and if you can see the words I bleed onto paper.  I wonder if you’d read my writing the way you used to read the paper every morning, out loud and to anyone who would listen, if you were still here.

I wonder if you can hear my prayers and wish I would do more of that.  I hope you can still see me, and that I make you proud.

Breath of Heaven

December 28, 2018 / / 0 Comments

My tears pour so freely at church. Every Sunday, but some more than others. It’s the one place in this world where I feel my soul is completely exposed, and my burdens lifted. My first Mother’s Day without her, I walked in and instantly noticed our beautiful wooden cross, the foremost focal point, was draped in purple linen. I know the purple drape has many meanings, like royalty…but it meant so much more to me that day. I wept. There’s no holding back those kind of tears.

This past Sunday, two days before my first Christmas without her here, a beautiful voice filled our sanctuary with Mary’s Song. I hadn’t paid much attention to the lyrics before, but as the soft, deep, pleading melody filled the room, again I was moved to tears. The song is written as though Mary were singing it; Asking God to help her hold it together and be with her through everything she was going through. Those prayers have been my prayers.

For those mourning with me, during a time that is meant to be so full of joy, I pray for peace in your heart and a Hope that blazes with such promise. This pain is temporary, friends. He is with us and He is holy.

Breath of heaven, hold us together.

Growing Hope: Lessons Learned From A Skinny Goat

July 30, 2018 / / 0 Comments

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day my husband bought her for me. In her pictures, she was shiny and soft with giant brown eyes and a proud stance that amplified the bright yellow Grand Champion ribbon she had just won. I loved her the moment I saw her and knew her name was surely a sign she was meant to be here on our homestead. “Happy MothersBirthMas” he said, the remark a reflection of her price tag.

When I went to pick her up, I pulled into a gated driveway of a breathtakingly beautiful, large estate in Northern Va. Lush pastures and barns spanned wide, perfectly painted to match the house up on the hill. When her breeder welcomed me into the gate, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted down into a seemingly bottomless field. Up trotted a single file line of 20, give or take, of some of the most beautiful goats I’d ever seen. Gentle and plump loving bodies surrounded me with their sleek coats and bright eyes. It was heaven!

Not a single collar or leash was needed to separate Hope from the rest and she eagerly followed us into the corral where she was normally fed grains and milked. Her breeder mentioned she was a little on the thin side, gave her a dose of pro-biotics and de-wormed her before we went on our way.

The move was stressful for her. She bleated and shook the entire drive home. The following months have been a learning experience for both of us. I’ve read more articles on dairy goat nutrition than I care to admit. On the ADGA body scoring page, I would say Hope has remained at a 2 despite my best efforts to put weight on her.

So, I began to ask around. I asked friends with goats, breeders and fellow bloggers with educational backgrounds in ruminant nutrition. A culmination of the wonderful advice I received resulted in the following checklist for growing Hope:

1) Internal Health
2) Nutrition
3) Energy Balance
4) Prayer

I knew just by her name that the Lord would use her to teach me things…

When given her background, the first question I was always asked was “did you check for worms?” Even though she was de-wormed before she came here, times of stress often cause an outbreak. With goats, internal parasites steal nutrition causing them to lose condition. And it’s the same with us, friends.

Proverbs 28:13

Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy.

When we’re in bad condition, needing Hope, the first step to finding it is to rid ourselves of the things that are robbing us. Maybe it’s addiction, toxic relationships, or greed. Sin robs us of Hope.

The second question was “what are you feeding her?” This goat in particular does not have a voracious appetite. She always leaves grain in the bowl (or throws the bowl because she’s a total DIVA… but I digress). I examined the quality of the nutrients, tried various feeds, including higher fat horse feeds. She only likes certain things…which presents a challenge when trying to add weight. The same is true for us. What we take in, determines our condition.

John 4:4

“but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst: but the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life”

When we cast our focus on what is good and true, and surround ourselves with others who do the same, finding Hope is inevitable and leads us to a better place mentally, physically and emotionally.

The third issue folks brought to my attention was energy balance. This is something animals bred for milk production often struggle with. In an excerpt from Dairy Goat Body Condition Scoring It’s written;

“High-performing dairy goats do not typically reduce their productivity if the feeding program is inadequate. Rather, they will often maintain a relatively high level of production and their body condition (fat and muscle reserves) will reflect the lack of nutrient intake.”

Hope was on milk test when she came to live with us and produced 3.3 lbs on her second test as a first freshener. That is a LOT of milk and very promising from a production standpoint! However, being that she produces so well, I have to really concentrate on her nutrition so she doesn’t lose condition again. I dried her off earlier this month and am focusing on getting her ready for fall breeding. For us, this highlights the importance of self care.

Jeremiah 17:7-8

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; it’s leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”

It’s so easy to let ourselves run down to empty, isn’t it? In motherhood I’ve struggled here a thousand times and still do. We can’t help others if we’re depleted to the point of feeling hopeless. It simply can’t be done. Making the time to pour into ourselves is vital to our wellbeing.

The last and most important step in our journey to growing Hope is to pray. Before the chaos of the morning ensues, you’ll find me alone feeding Hope, before anyone else in my home is awake, praying over her and my family, friends, readers and our future. Her sweet smell and the solace of a few quiet moments before the Lord make my heart happy and help me to start the day on the right foot.

Ephesians 1:18-19

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.

**Special thanks to Alli at Longbourn Farm, Lacey at Raising Arrows Nubians, and Terryn over at Faith Family and Beef for connecting us!

While My Heart Gently Weeps

February 8, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Prior to last month, the only time I’ve ever had to grapple with death was twenty-one long years ago.  Grandaddy was diagnosed with cancer and left my eleven-year-old-world in shambles two short weeks after when he passed.  I remember coming home from school and being hushed while he lay on the sofa in pajamas that stretched hard to cover his poor distended belly.

“Go play outside, Ash…Grandad needs to rest.”

I remember the walk Nanny took me on when she told me what was happening.  It was summertime, and forever etched in my mind remains how astoundingly thick the locusts were that year.  Their constant hum was so loud it made the air feel heavy; the humidity almost suffocating.  Still, she needed out of the house and I remember how I hop-scotched that entire walk trying to avoid stepping on the blue wings and red beady eyes that littered the sidewalk.  Her face was filled with sadness and I knew I needed to be strong for her.  And then he was just…gone.  There was no time to prepare or work through emotions that I had never felt to such an extent.

Fast forward what feels like a lifetime to Nanny’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis.  My Aunt Julie called to tell me. She was crying.  Again, caught off-guard, the emotions were back exactly as I remembered them.

Only, an Alzheimer’s death is not quick.  It’s called “The Long Goodbye” because each and every day the disease chips away at what was once a fully capable, beautiful mind.  Ultimately, few pass from the disease itself…instead from a weakened immune system, compromised by another, insignificant, common illness.  As was the case for my precious grandmother.

I can actually pinpoint the exact moment my heart broke into pieces one last time as this disease won the long-fought battle.  Four days before she passed I walked into Nanny’s room at the nursing home.  Hospice nurses were giving her a sponge bath.  She was so tiny, frail beyond any words I can use to describe it.  Her eyes were fixed half open, glossy and lifeless, cast on the ceiling above her bed.  Her chest heaved irregularly as she struggled for breath.  My mom was frantically sorting through clothes hangers in her closet, searching for a night-gown and caught my eyes, as I tried to maintain composure.  “It’s bad” she whispered, eyes brimmed with tears.  We stepped into the hallway where I broke into her and sobbed like I was a child again.

The rest of that day was spent bedside with her, holding the hand that guided me through life.  I studied the soft age spots that she so often called “ugly” and couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful or precious to me.  As the night came to a close, I had to come home.  I will forever carry a guilt in my heart for leaving her that night.

The days leading to this she had been sleeping constantly, not eating or drinking.  Hospitalization for labored breathing and suspected pneumonia followed and despite wanting nothing more than for her to get better, as there is no cure for this, the doctors explained that continuing to administer fluids was just prolonging her suffering.  She was sent back to Heritage Green with orders to keep her comfortable.

Somewhere along the way I had developed extreme misconceptions about death.  I had thought the process of dying would be peaceful and serene.  When my mom called to tell me she had passed the following Sunday, in the same breath choking back cries, I remember saying I was so thankful it was over for her.  Her final days were anything but peaceful  and those memories will haunt me for the rest of my life.  I pray my own children never have to experience it.

In the weeks that have followed, while trying to navigate the grief that washes over me in all-consuming waves, I’ve tried to cling to the promise that I will see her again one day.  And I know she’s still here with me…the signs are here and very, very real.

Jesus teaches us to love others as we love ourselves and that love is the reason we grieve when we lose someone close to us.  As a young Christian I thought of love as a feeling, an emotion.  It was fleeting at best but oh so deceptively strong.  As I’ve grown, I’ve learned that real love is actually long-suffering; it is dying to self and practicing patience, and kindness, while serving and forgiving others regardless of whether they deserve it or not.  And that is exactly how Nanny loved me… She cherished me, even when I least deserved it, all the days of my life.  I have the biggest shoes to fill.

 

The Number One Pest Killing Your Tomato Plants

July 29, 2017 / / 0 Comments

In my early childhood, we lived in an end-unit townhome of a bustling little town in Northern Virginia.  Being in a neighborhood where the homes touched each other didn’t stop Grandaddy from pursuing his love of home grown veggies and he became a master of container gardening.  

Our fence backed up to about 15 feet of woods before opening into the next crowded subdivision.  We had  a tiny back-yard, covered patio, faded deck, and the ultimate bunny paradise (more on that later).

On each stair leading up to the deck from the yard there were tomato and pepper plants evenly spaced and beautifully staked.  No lack of space was going to keep him from a toasted ‘mater sammich!

Grandaddy always had a way of teaching me all about life through nature.  I remember my first real, conceptual image of Jesus hanging on the cross as described using the soft pink petals of a dogwood flower.   I can still smell the raw tobacco wafting from his shirt pocket as he knelt down on his knees bringing the open soft pack of Marlboro Reds right to nose level.   That day I learned how nails were driven into my precious Savior’s hands and feet.

About that same time, he introduced me to what I would come to know as the enemy.  One who came to steal, kill and destroy….our tomato plants.  He called them “horned devils” and I knew immediately by the tone in his voice when he stumbled upon one that they were bad news.

Tomato hornworms are the larva of hawk moths; giant brown moths that can rival a bumble bee with the way they stop and hover.  As a homesteader, creatures with the words devil, hawk, horned or pest in their names have become my nemeses.  I remember in the summertime sitting on the deck steps and pouring over Grandaddy’s plants trying to find these nasty beasts.  Back when I had the fearlessness of youth, I’d pluck them off with my bare hands.

A single “horned devil” can destroy an entire tomato plant in days.  They are merciless.  What’s worse, you can often find them covered in white “spikes”.  I later learned these are parasitic wasp larva devouring the worm before hatching **insert screaming face emoji here**  I can’t fully wrap my head around posts like this, noting the benefits of more wasps – they must not keep honeybees!

On the homestead, I’ve made it a point to use our adventures as a way of teaching my children about the Lord, all while creating memories that (I hope) will last a lifetime for them.  Nature is a perfect place to start learning about God and life if we just slow down and observe all that’s been left for us .  There are clear examples of truth and beauty and love found everywhere.  But the enemy is also everywhere…even in the garden.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How To Let Go

July 23, 2017 / / 0 Comments

As I peered down into the disaster strewn across the floor and down the stairs, the books began to distort.  Tears came quickly making the mess before me warp and writhe.  It had finally happened.  That cheap, old bookshelf collapsed after an adolescence and adulthood of knowledge and memories had been piled to the brim of each sagging shelf.

I got it from her.  Nanny is a hoarder of sorts.  She’s always held onto things.

Shortly after my eighteenth birthday I found a tiny apartment and was ready to move out on own.  On a small tattered piece of piece of junk mail tossed carelessly on a desk in the loft of Nanny’s old townhome was my handwritten budget.

Rent: $425

Electricity: $25

Phone: $50

Grocery: $50

          Next to my ridiculously naïve expected living expenses she had beautifully penned a farewell note. “HAHA!  Good luck!”

The evening before I came home from jogging to a frantic, frustrated and worried Nan.  It was getting dark out and I hadn’t left a message or let her know where I was.  “Ashley, where have you been!?  I was worried sick.  You can’t just run off without telling me where you’re going.  What if something happened to you?”  In true self-centered teenage fashion I jabbed at her with “UGH, I can’t wait to move out of here.”  I watched those words inflict the pain I intended them to and then stormed off.

Whenever I was faced with something new and unfamiliar, before I ever found my footing, it was Nanny I looked to for guidance and security.  That first night alone in my new apartment she called me.  “Ash are you alright?  Do you need anything?  I just wanted to check on you….”  I was so grateful for that phone call, both for the forgiveness it implied and the comfort it offered.

As the years passed by, anytime I ever needed anything it was Nan I called.   I remember when my toaster broke and she said “Come on over, I’m sure I have an extra somewhere.”  Turns out she had three to choose from.  I began to notice how she held onto things almost just waiting to give either her grace or the perfect item to remedy a hardship.  It was how she let go.

A lifetime of memories flashed by as I began to sort through that pile of books, each one a reminder of an earlier time in life.  Some made me think of God’s mercy and my reckless college days, and some of home and Nanny and of comfort.  I’ll box a few of these books up and donate them.  And some of those really special ones; the ones etched into my soul that molded and changed me, I’ll hang onto for the perfect moment in time when I can help someone with them.

Today I’m learning to let go of her and that’s an entirely different kind of letting go.  Alzheimer’s is taking her from me one day at the time.  But I will always be grateful for the lessons she taught me.  Because of her I’ll look for ways to offer forgiveness even when it’s not deserved and I’ll hang onto everything just like she did, until letting it go blesses someone else, more than holding on ever could.

 

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