Anecdotes on a Wintery Day

This December is colder than last year. I don't think my eggs left outside froze solid until January, and they were mostly frozen this morning. The lead rope for Bianca yesterday was frozen stiff, like a twig. Eventually I managed to get it tied, but it was tough to make it bend.

After a chilly rain on Saturday night, we awoke to running water on Sunday morning. After five days without, and imposing on our friend for showers on Saturday, I was thrilled to be able to do dishes in the sink again. It was a good reminder: I may bemoan the lack of dishwasher at times, but lack of running water suddenly restored made me extremely thankful for any homemaking aid.

When we returned from the snowy Shenandoah yesterday night, our water was again frozen, but maybe it will thaw again soon.

You can tell from the photo above that Buttercup remains sad and lonely: her tail is uncurled. Since all had curly tails before the older pigs departed, I hope her tail will curl again.

As we approach the end of 2010, I realize this is the first even year of the Twenty-first Century that Phil has not had an addition to his family. I have been thankful for the physical and mental reprieve of not having a pregnancy this year. It's been full enough and hard enough without the morning sickness and diminished mobility, the fatigue and mental incapacity.

I love the result of pregnancy, but the nine months itself is just tough.

Some stories from the boys.

Jadon and Isaiah have discovered string games, and have worked their way through the three books I had in my youth. They come to me periodically to "trap" my hand and miraculously loosen it, or to "bite" me with a mosquito, or to tell a story about stolen candles and the thief who rests, and is taken to jail in handcuffs, all with accompanying string figures.

Six months ago, I got those books out and the boys weren't interested. Another instance of a little bit more maturity, a bit more dexterity.

Isaiah created a Lego house for a Playmobil bat, which he named "Krunkia." I have never heard a word remotely similar, and I think it's quite difficult to come up with a name out of thin air. (So if you're looking for a good business name that hasn't already been claimed, consider asking Isaiah!) This little Lego house comes with three doors: one especially for summer, to allow "proper ventilation" (which I thought quite a mature concept for a lad of six).

Jadon has been overcome with the desire to read the Word of God (King James, no less). After completing Job, he started at Genesis, and, in the last two weeks, has read through Genesis, Exodus and Leviticus, and has started Numbers.

Abraham cut me to the heart yesterday. We were scurrying about, trying to get to Costco, and I gave him his jacket to put on. After carrying one son to the car, I returned to find Abraham in tears: "I'm just dumb at zippers!" he said.

It brings tears to my eyes. I had never shown him how to zip a zipper, and here he was valiantly trying, and failing, and blaming himself. I spent 30 seconds showing him how to make a zipper worked, after which he competently zipped his jacket. I asked him, "Were you dumb at zippers, or did you need a little teaching?"

"I just needed a little teaching!"

Phil headed to be early yesterday evening, at the same time all the boys were going to bed. With the wind, the "RealFeel" weather showed about -1, so Phil invited the boys to join him. Jadon eventually got fed up with the elbows and knees flying, but the other three boys stuck it out. I slept in the mummy bag on Joe's bed, and enjoyed the first night of uninterrupted sleep in my memory. (I am not sure I have had one since Jadon was born.)

As we contemplate what we can do next year to earn money, we tossed around a CSA or weekly vegetable subscription box next year. Even a couple dozen families might be enough to help a great deal, and we have most of the equipment we'd need.

Of course, other than books, we've had no training in market gardening, but then, we've had no training but books for lamb obstetrics, cow milking, and lumber jacking. That might be a good option for us.

And, finally, I will leave you with a sober thought. We sang a good many songs in church on Sunday about the lamb of God that was slain. And I was overcome with the knowledge of the death of Jesus, in a way I had never considered before.

I have always thought of Jesus death as sort of sterile: he stopped breathing, and went in the tomb, and then started breathing again.

But I have had several opportunities to witness death this year, and it's not sterile. The life is gone: the eyes dull almost immediately; the tongue hangs out; body waste leaves in awkward ways.

I don't want that to happen to Jesus. I don't want his eyes to be dull, his Spirit to leave his body. I can handle a death that involves still limbs and fixed eyes that close. I can't handle death that involves urine and excrement, limbs stiffening and the pungent smell of decay.

But it did happen to Jesus. It happened for me.

In this holiday season, I rejoice in Jesus' birth.

Thanks be to God.