Ample Provision

Denise Bush stopped by today and commented that our soil looks better: "Not so orange." So encouraging, that an occasional outside observer would notice that. Phil and I were commenting just this last week over how much better our soil is: the tilth, the color, all of it!

We've seen some other little provisions of the Lord lately. An email from my Dad surprisingly reminded me that I had looked at a tax bill in the car at some point. It was a glancing impression, and I realized I had never seen it again. A frantic search through the massive stack of papers on my desk, ransacking several bags of trash, and looking into the crevices of the car yielded no bill.

But it turned up today. I am most thankful.

More humorously, Phil wondered where the keys to the riding mower were. Abraham said, "I know! I buried them!"

He had, actually, buried them. Better still, he was able to find them again! (Unlike Jadon, who last year buried a hammer, dug around for an hour looking for it, and never did recover it.)

Bianca had been such an easy milker, I had high hopes for her. Yesterday evening, I forgot the proper way to tie her tightly, and she managed to work her way a bit more loose. She, frustratingly, started dancing, and again whipping with the tail. This morning, as I was finally stripping her out, she even managed to get her foot onto the rim of my milk pail, but the cloven part caught, and I jerked the milk pail away. (It looked okay to me, but we'll make sure only Lykoshes drink that half gallon—or we'll spread it on the garden!!)

This evening, despite good tight tying, she continued to dance. Phil said I needed to just have patience. I took the half gallon she had milked out up to the house, and in the two minutes I was away from her, she managed to work herself backwards in the stall!

I untied her, led her around again (thankful she didn't bolt, as I don't have much traction in the sodden earth), and retied her. With an empty pail, I had all the time in the world.

She'd step forward, and I dug my head into her flank until she stepped back. She'd step back, pressing her bulky side into me to knock me off balance, and I dug my shoulder into her until she stepped forward.

After we did this a few times, she stood still for the remainder of the milking. Did I show her who's boss? We'll see tomorrow.

The other, most wonderful provision, is that we have been wishing for a tractor for a good long time. Especially for spraying the trees, but for skidding downed logs, for digging trenches for electric wire, for moving the chicken pen—the list goes on.

We had seriously considered a few, but when my Mom was visiting a month ago, she saw neighbor Butch's home and said, "If he ever wants to sell his tractor, you should buy it!"

Incredibly, today he offered! With all the features we would want or need, at a price we can afford.

The Lord has been so good to us. It reminds me of Samson, our dually pickup. We had priced used trucks in Colorado, and used trucks in Virginia, and Colorado offered more for your money, for some reason. One week we decided it was time, and Phil went on craigslist to look. Only half an hour before, Samson had come up for sale.

As he left to look at the truck, I said privately to the Lord, "I will really know this is the truck for us if the man kept records of his maintenance." Buying used, you can never be sure how well a person cares for the vehicle, and I really hoped for some extra reassurance.

What joy when Phil came home and said, "The man who owned this truck was an engineer," and he showed me the record the man had kept of every mile driven, every gas fill-up, every maintenance done. (When he got slightly less miles per gallon, he would make a note: "Brought sand from quarry.")

How precious of the Lord to be so clear that that was the truck for us.

And how wonderful of the Lord to be so clear in His provision of a tractor for us.