Today, I gathered my grandchildren close to me and was thankful for the
peace we were able to share. Oh, the
house was not peaceful at all with three, four year olds battling for center
stage and continually working out things like “sharing”, who would go “first”,
and who would “be the boss”. And a
teething four and a half month old isn’t exactly peaceful either. However, we had peace and we had love and for
now, we are all safe. My two bi-racial
granddaughters and my daughter were initially scheduled to be in
Charlottesville this past Saturday at a park very near where the riots broke
out. A friend of my daughter’s, who also
is married to a man of a different ethnic background than her own, and Alissa
were scheduled to meet for the kids to have a play date. She felt uneasy taking the kids down there at
a time when the Neo Nazi, KKK and Alternate Right groups were scheduled to
protest in the area. Thank God for the
wisdom the girls had to stay away and keep those precious babies out of harms
way. So it was with a thankful heart, a
more thankful hear than usual, I dealt with the chaos of having all my grands
together today. We had homemade pizza
and we fed the animals and we played outside and in. We read books and we sang songs and we ate
snacks. We fussed a little, we cried a
little and we laughed a lot. We made
messes and we cleaned them up. We got
our clean clothes dirty along with our hands and faces. We gave kisses and hugs and said our
prayers.
Dear God, please help this grandma to teach these children to love in a
world full of hate, teach them that money and race and social status doesn’t
make one group better than another, and that we were all created to love as You
love and that is without barriers.
Thank you for another day in which to live. Amen.
I missed a day journaling and the
day just felt off. I have so very much
enjoyed the routine of putting down my thoughts and the events of the day. I actually thought I had missed more than one
day of journaling, but when I looked at the last date of entry, I just missed
one. I know I sound like a broken
record, but our days in Staunton are just so filled, that it’s all I can do to
catch my breath. It seems like it gets
harder and harder to get everything done there so we can head south. We have a lot we need to accomplish on this
trip but it’s hard to get mechanics, contractors, and business owners to really
take initiative it seems. That’s true
whether we are in Staunton or our Southern Virginia home.
Speaking of our “Southern
Virginia” home, I had to laugh the other day when someone said they had heard a
rumor that we were moving to South Carolina.
The way that facts get twisted as they are told can be quite amusing, as
well as damaging in some instances like what happened to me several months ago
regarding my grandmother. Someday, I may
write down all the particulars of that situation but for now, I am just trying
to focus on the positive and the lessons I took away from that particular
situation. I wonder why people would
rather make things up than go directly to the source?
At any rate, we had wanted to get
a lot done but keep running into stumbling blocks here in Southern Virginia
today. We have a diesel truck that
refuses to start and Mike is trying to get it going or he will need to call a
tow truck and have it taken to the garage.
We have contacted a contractor about working on our barn, but we seem to
be having trouble connecting with him in such a manner as to get him out for an
estimate. With winter coming, we need to
get oil and propane. (Our house in
Staunton is heated entirely with wood and Mike has already started getting it
stacked up for the winter.)
I mostly sleep better at the Rural
Retreat than I do in Staunton. I think
it’s the sound of the creek running just outside our bedroom window. The sound is so relaxing. However, I still typically wake quite early
(around 3:30 to 4:30 am). Last night I
slept really well though. I did not get
up until 7:30 am this morning! I made
homemade, blueberry muffins and perked a pot of coffee. We had eggs to go with it and a sliced
tomato. Late afternoon, we had a
BLT. Somehow, I have let the summer slip
away without making a BLT until today.
Mike continues to put his produce
out by the road on the honor system while we are in Southwest Virginia. He makes a few dollars every day and loves
doing it. I am glad that it brings him
joy and that he has found a way to keep doing it without being completely tied
to it. One of our neighbors stopped this
morning and talked to Mike. He said he
has wife had gotten some produce last week and it was just the best fruit and
vegetables they had eaten in a long time.
It was nice for Mike, who was out by the road setting things up, to be
able to connect with one of the neighbors.
He loves it and I love him. As I
sit on the porch typing this, someone else has stopped. Folks get what they want and put their money
in a cigar box. There’s something sweet,
simple, and neighborly about that. I
hope that Mike can continue to operate in this manner without abuse. All it takes is one person to ruin it for
everyone.
In Staunton, typically, I hit the
ground running a long time before Mike and when he gets up and goes off to eat
with his mom, we don’t have a whole lot of time to talk. At our retreat, we are able to start the day
slowly together and I love that. This
morning we lay I bed and something that was said brought both of us to
reminiscing about when we were kids and how we would “run wild” outdoors,
playing in our natural setting with very little parental intervention. We talked about how kids today in most
instances no longer do that. I told Mike
how I remember doing all kinds of dangerous things like riding the pony
bareback while being barefoot and riding without a helmet. I must have been about five. I told him how I went to the woods and stayed
for hours and no one worried about me or wondered where I was or what I was
doing. He told me how he would run all
over the farm, play in the creek in the summer and during the winter, how he
and his brother would pull the sled, with an axe to the top of the hill to
break the ice in the pond for the cows.
Then, they would both climb on the sled, with the axe, slide down the
hill, under the fence, across the road and back to the farmhouse where his
grandparents lived at the time and where his mother now lives. He also told me how that one Christmas he caught
a big fish in that pond with his bare hands.
He admitted the fish was probably half frozen.
I guess that was one of my dreams
when we bought this rural property, that our grandkids would have a place where
they could get lost in their own world and experience the natural surroundings
without so much suburbia. I hope they
will be able to do that.
##################
The “neighbors” continued to stop
by for produce yesterday. Mike talked to
several of them. I stay in the house and
hope no one ventures that far. I am
beginning to admit to myself just how deeply the last betrayals have hurt me
and how I have built up walls that I had finally, with time, let down. I am afraid the walls have gone up thicker
and stronger than ever before and knowing that I am definitely middle aged and
at a time when it would be nice to be able to trust people, I instead find
myself suspicious of most everyone’s motives.
I hate that because in spite of always being an introvert, I always
operated under the premise that folks would react with goodness in most
instances if that is what you expect of them.
My newly opened wounds leave me feeling in ways I don’t know that I have
ever felt before this. Even when I lost
my Josh due in part to the selfish and just plain evil acts of others, I still
held on to believing that my love, forgiveness and acceptance, not of the harm
that was done but of the individuals who perpetrated that evil, could make a
difference. Actually, I still believe
that. I will always believe that. Just writing it out and reflecting on my
thoughts causes me to see that I really do still believe in love and the power
of good over evil. I guess I’m just
tired AND in the past couple years I have come to realize that the kind of love
of which I speak is sacrificial and I am too weary to know how much of that
sacrificial love I have left to give except to my family and a few very close
friends.
Well, that’s enough of that for
one day. Too depressing to be the
focus. I have so much for which to be
thankful and counting blessings is a much better use of time.
We went into the closest
incorporated town yesterday which is approximately 15 minutes away. We needed some parts and tools for the Ford
diesel which won’t run right now. It was
a nice little excursion and while there, I picked up a few things I needed from
the grocery store. I spent the afternoon
doing odd jobs around the house and then in the evening, we went to the little
auction house that is near our home.
When we got home, we had a big bowl of ice cream and watched an episode
of The Waltons. In this episode, the
family loses their beloved, Guernsey, milk cow named Chance. I wondered if most folks would even
understand why the family was crying over the old milk cow in this
episode. Although I know a good number
of people with family cows, thanks to the internet making the world a smaller
place, the family cow isn’t a common addition to most families in this day and
age. Sometimes I hate the internet and
all the ugliness it can bring into a home and a life, the way it pulls at us to
distract us, the way it keeps children indoors instead of playing outside like
I did when I was a kid, and the way it distracts us from the things on which we
should otherwise focus. But, there are
times I am very thankful for the vastness of the internet and how it has
connected me to people I would never have connected with otherwise. My family cow friends are some of those
people. We can live a world apart but we
have so much in common and a connection that has given us a basis for the type
of friendship that lasts. Being sort of
a throwback can make one feel isolated at times, but the internet allowed me to
connect with others who love their family cows and who enjoy the
homesteading/farming/ranching life as much as I do. I am thankful for that and thankful for each
of them.
#####################
Time is flying. It always does but it is true that the older
we get the faster time flies. We were so
busy yesterday that I was unable to even get a minute to sit down and write. I really feel lost when that happens now that
I am creating a routine of writing every day.
I am sure part of that is that I have isolated myself from Facebook and
without the little blurbs and connections through the day, I am more isolated
(by choice). The journaling is so much
better in so many ways. I am thankful
for those friends who write to me via US Mail and those who text and email
me. There is so much more depth to our
conversations.
Saturday, I was able to get a good
bit of housecleaning done. It was so hot
outside (although probably ten degrees cooler than in Staunton, as the
mountains are always cooler). I stayed
indoors and knocked down cobwebs, swept, mopped, and dusted. I am thankful that I have a very
conscientious husband who does not drag a bunch of dirt in the house regardless
of the fact he is always getting very dirty.
He is also good to keep his clutter to designated areas. We typically have a neat house but I tend to
let the cobwebs and dust and the dirt that tracks in build up a lot more than I
use to. Looking back, it makes me sad
that I worried so much about keeping my house perfect rather than just enjoying
life. I am trying to remedy that with
the second half of my life. We also ran
into the nearest little town, about 15 miles away, and picked up our
truck. We had to have it towed and
worked on by a mechanic. He was a man,
probably early twenties, and he got right on it and got the job done. We were impressed that he took care of it so
quickly as we find most people don’t take that initiative. We had just happened upon his garage the day
before and I had encouraged Mike to go in and talk to him. Mike had made multiple phone calls that
morning looking for a tow truck and/or a mechanic with no satisfactory
results. The one we found by “happenstance”
ended up being the ticket.
We had chicken fried cube steak
with gravy, eggs, and sliced tomatoes for breakfast and I had put a pork roast
in the oven with celery, potatoes and carrots for dinner. I also made a huge bowl of pasta salad with
the cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden.
People continue to stop by to get produce and Mike continues to meet
folks. He said everyone has been so
nice. They have, in fact, been nice
everywhere we have been. One thing that
does concern me is the blatant prejudice from the people here towards those who
have a different color of skin or are of a different race. ( I will write more
of that another time as time doesn’t permit me to delve into it right now.)
Saturday, we went to a daytime
auction. It is one that we have
frequented for about nine months now. It
is by far our favorite auction house.
The folks who run it are honest, which is refreshing. They are straightforward about the quality of
the items being sold and they are fair towards those who are bidding and just
all around nice people. They are also
very organized which is of importance to me.
Saturday evening, we went to the local auction I described in a previous
entry where some of the locals come to hang out and where it’s a lot of fun to people
watch. At one point, I saw that the
seller was bringing up a quart sized hot water bath canner and mine and I
wanted one to keep at the Rural Retreat rather than have to keep taking mine back and forth between our
Southern Virginia home and Staunton. I
wanted to make sure it was good with no holes in the bottom and that it had the
rack so I impulsively ran to the front of the auction and asked the seller if I
could see the bottom and asked if there was a rack in it. He was showing me when I hear the auctioneer
say, “All right Vanna, show the next item up for bid.” I turned around with the canner in my hand
and did my best Vanna White impersonation and bid on the canner at the same
time. No one bid against me and the
seller threw in the other canner that didn’t have a lid or a rack as a backup
and I got it all for two dollars and everyone had a good laugh. So
much for my remaining inconspicuous and hanging out in the back of the auction
house to people watch! Later, at the
same auction, an elderly lady came in late.
She approached me before the auction was over and asked me if I would
sell one of the items we had bought (for resale at the Antique mall). She said she wanted to give it to her great granddaughter. I really didn’t want to sell it because I
knew we could make a decent profit on it at our booth, but there is no way I
could tell that sweet little lady “no”.
I sold it to her for what we had in it.
She was so very happy.
We decided that today we would try
the little stone church that we had started out to visit last week but when we
arrived found the service had already begun.
We didn’t really know what to expect as it was a denomination that
neither of us had personally attended.
However, I was more familiar with what to expect than Mike having
studied church history and having friends who attend this particular denomination. The thing it, I am finding, a lot of folks in
the area don’t fit the typical “labels” you see on the churches. We have tried out every Brethren Church (we
are Anabaptist) within driving distance (and one must drive a good distance to
them) and have found every one of them to be led by Baptist trained pastors who
do not preach and teach and hold to the Anabaptist background that we really
are drawn to. I had found out that
several of these Rock Churches seemed to have changed from their Presbyterian
roots to Baptist. I wasn’t sure if this
church would be more Presbyterian or more Baptist or something entirely
different. However, anytime I go to a
church, I go with an open mind and try to get something from the service. I figure we can all learn from one
another. Sometimes, we have to stretch a
little further and try a little harder to get something from a service but I
try really hard no matter what the circumstances. Today, I didn’t have to try very hard. As I mentioned in a previous entry, I have
been struggling and not very happy about going to church anywhere recently due
to being hurt by a situation that involved some Christians from two different
churches by whom I felt very betrayed. I
figured this church would leave me feeling about the same, disappointed and
ready to go back to introverting. I
mostly wanted to attend the service because of the local history of the church
and the story behind it. I am drawn to
the history of an area, especially if that history involves rural mountain
people, so very much like my own family in the Mountains of Northwest
Georgia. I went mostly out of curiosity
and adventure but what we found was a handful of people in a little Mountain
Church who were kind and friendly and a visiting speaker who spoke of betrayal,
hurt, and forgiveness as he spoke on the story of Joseph confronting his
brothers as they came to Egypt years after they had betrayed him. I sat there with silent tears streaming down
my face feeling every ounce of the hurt that I have been feeling and then
letting it go holding to the belief that somehow all that has happened has
served to bring about some good in spite of the ugliness I have felt.
I had been wanting to buy the book
‘THE MAN WHO MOVED A MOUNTAIN” which told the story of these rock churches and
the man who started them, but I had not taken the time to order it. It was available at the church and I bought
it today. On the trip home, as Mike
drove, I read it out loud to him which turned out to be a real treat. Not only is the book interesting, well
written, and helps satisfy my thirst for local history, but never have I been
able to entertain Mike with something written for so long. For almost two hours we read together as he
drove and we were both glued to every word for the story takes place in the
area where we have our new home and we recognize the landmarks mentioned in the
book as places we have come to love.