I went to a picnic lunch with ladies from my community group at church yesterday. In response to my tale of woe, one of my friends said something about how the Lord gives us limits, and we should function joyfully in those limits, because God is a good God. And I sat there and realized I had forgotten that. God IS a good God, despite disappointments and set-backs.
Another friend prayed for me, that I would have a sign that the Lord is at work here. That struck me: I would NEVER have asked for a sign. It was such a precious prayer, and I sat in gratitude.
On the way home, I was stopped first by a fallen tree. The pine, fallen across the road four cars ahead of me, presumably just minutes before, had stopped traffic both directions. A sharply dressed young man in a tie got out of the car two up from me with a fancy video camera and began shooting "Rural Virginians Deal With Life." An older man in the car in front of me went to the back, got out his chainsaw, walked up to the tree, and revved it up. The cluster of folks gathered around cleared the branches away, and we all continued on our way. (The pine didn't appear that large at first, but I later realized it was 5" in diameter where it fell across the road, about 40 feet from the roots. How would you push a tree of that size off the road?)
A quarter of a mile farther on, the road was again blocked, this time by the sheriff, who redirected traffic around a ground fire. I could see the flames licking the ground from where I drove (this morning, on our way to church, we passed acres of blackened ground; the fire must have burned hot and fast, since the trees appeared unaffected). I finally reached home thankful for no fire and eager to see what sign the Lord would give.
The Lord has opened his hand and poured out signs upon me. I was reading a book about J.O. Fraser, a missionary to the Lisu, who said, "Flee depression as you flee from sin." That resonated with me, like missionary Joy Ridderhof's exhortation that "Worry is sin, because you're not trusting God." Not that I have stopped worrying (foolish me), but it is helpful to think that I should flee depression. Sometimes I feel like I should embrace it: "This life is hard—why not acknowledge it and sink to the depths?"
Then I read about Fraser's successor, Isobel Kuhn. She wrote that when she first sent her young daughter to boarding school, she wept and carried on for days. In the end, the Lord asked her, "Have you enjoyed indulging in your emotions? Because they did no one any good. You're exhausted and spent from your grief; you daughter went away and was not helped, nor even aware, of your outbursts. Your husband has borne your sadness, but it hasn't been easy for him. Be done!"
This, too, I found very pertinent. How handy that I read that yesterday, for after I brought a bale of hay to the animals, I closed the gate as Phil usually does and went to unload groceries from the car. I watched in horror as a sheep slipped out my just-closed fence, quickly followed by three more. I sprinted down the driveway and closed the gate before more got out, and then raced around, looking for sheep netting. Up the hill! Hurry down, try to contain, set up netting (tangled netting, blast!).
But even as I set one set of netting, I saw a goat escape. How did he get out? I ran for the second set of netting, sobbing, and desperately tried to block that way, but it was too little, too late. Eight sheep and a goat headed up the driveway, leaving four sheep and a goat semi-hemmed in behind peat bales and indifferent netting. They had managed to open the gate entirely. Thankfully, the cows were happily munching the hay bale in the pen and showed no interest in practicing Houdini tricks.
I herded the nine down, but realized I hadn't made a place for them to go to be contained. They were approximately where I wanted, and had I possessed The Force, I could have moved the netting around them without me actually moving. But as I went to get the netting, the nine squirted around me, joined now by their compatriots, who figured out that the peat bales were not monolithic, but had fun paths that permitted escape.
As dusk fell, I stopped trying to do situation remediation. The situation was entirely busted. I briefly indulged in emotional excess, but realized it did neither me, nor the farm, any good. What I needed was a true enclosure that would have a nonthreatening entrance which could be closed off.
Thankful that the 14 were happily grazing the orchard floor and not the orchard TREES, I constructed a netting pen and went to play herd dog.
I was actually fairly good at this, except for a tendency to thwack the animals who chomped my garlic. After all, the little garden has turnip greens and garlic sprouts, and soft soil: the animals kept returning there. Which was better than heading up the driveway and onto the street, but not good enough. The sun had set, and I didn't have much time.
Isaiah came to my aid, blocking the sheep from oozing around the parked van. That little evasive action (play keep away around the van) had driven me to distraction, but with Isaiah to help, we got the sheep corralled in minutes. I could hardly believe it. I did it! One of the more traumatic moments on the farm, and I survived! Truthfully, I'd rather not be tested on whether I really understood the lesson about "excessive emotionalism," but it was helpful to see the training/application is such short succession.
Seeding is going better, too. I noticed today that, for the first time in a week, I have a couple new little asparagus shoots. My plea for understanding non-sprouting lettuce came today from a friend (thanks, Shelly!) who reminded me that lettuce likes to be cool. My 65 degree soil temperature, good for peppers, is probably cooking my lettuce seeds. I'll try seeding them in soil blocks and leaving them in the greenhouse, unheated but by the sun. I expect that will work better.
Better, though, is my cabbage and broccoli. I had read that seeds can either be planted one to a 1.5" block, or three (cabbage) or four (broccoli) to a 2" block. I was curious if it made much difference, so I did a split test on a tray, planting some of each. I am amazed to find that the seeds planted in multiples are outperforming the singletons infinitely much. Not one of the ten broccoli singletons have sprouted, but we have leaves on several of the multiples. (On the left in the photo below.)
And while, maybe, a few singleton cabbage seeds have put out shoots, the cabbages in multiples have grown enough that they are poking up 3/4", into the air!
cabbage
It helps me feel like I can seed now with confidence: the multiple method is the way for me. So seeding is improved.
And, finally, I came home from church today to find a bag of gifts hanging by the door.
When I talked to my neighbor recently, I mentioned that I would eat five grapefruits a day for breakfast in college, and that a mentor said, "I've never met anyone who eats as much fruit as you do." So our dear neighbor to the south had tried our pork chops, and I found a bag of grapefruits on my door. So precious.
So, the signs from the Lord that we're doing what we're supposed to be: blessings from the neighbor, blessings from the church, blessings in the seedlings, blessings in the hardships (since the sheep are contained, after all).
Blessed be the Lord.
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