an ordinary extraordinary Sabbathday...

It was an ordinary day and an extraordinary day yesterday, a Sabbath for the body and soul. We woke at our usual time and Michael walked the farm with the dogs, checking on the cows. The weather was jewel like... clear, crisp, cool warmed by autumn sun. While we ate breakfast, we watched CBS Sunday morning. Afterwards we went to the log chapel for our gathering. I had a pitcher full of late summer flowers and autumn leaves, bright yellows, reds, purples, oranges and burgundies... an explosion of color for the old poplar log communion table.
We stood outside with coffee mugs in hand, catching up on our lives, then ambled in to the chapel where we carefully chose our places to sit, some in the sun, some in the shade. The sounds of the wind and the skittering leaves on the tin roof reminded me of the unpredictable, unbelievable, ever changing dance of the Holy Spirit. Michael rang the bell and worship began. Gospel songs, a long sweet silence to listen for God and listen to our hearts, a time for us to speak our own praise and thanksgivings, a sermon on Exile and Homecoming written by a friend in 1978 that brought laughter and tears, the peace of Christ passed as we stood in a circle holding each other close, a closing blessing and we slowly began to go our separate ways. The images of riding an ox while looking for the ox, sharecropping an absentee landlord’s spiritual fields, and the vision of faith that values past, present and future equally will give me some pondering time this week
As we stood outside preparing to leave, mama drove up and got out to visit. She looked pretty in her suit and new blouse. She asked about Janet’s mom, got teased about how good she looked cleaned up, gave and got a hug or two, then drove up to her house to change. We began leaving, separating, sustained and challenged for the week to come. Michael and I drove up the road with sparkling souls that reveled in the multicolored beauty that surrounds us on the farm in autumn.
I had lunch prepared... baked chicken, mashed potatoes (not as good as mama makes but still good), limas, broccoli and fresh sliced tomatoes from Jeannie. Mama brought cake for dessert. We ate and enjoyed our food, grateful for our lives together in this present moment. We cleaned off the table and mama went down the hill to her home. Sunday afternoon naps after reading the Sunday paper are a ritual of long standing in our lives. When we woke up, we went to the stable and saddled up Dakota and Junie B for an afternoon ride.
Our riding tack is pieced together, gifts from friends and the odd purchase or two, so saddling two horses took some ingenuity. It was the first ride for Dakota who has been recovering from malnourishment and rain rot. He is a gentle old soul and a veteran trail horse so he was easy to saddle and easy to ride. Junie B behaves much better when she travels with another horse so she was in a good mood, too. We let Dixie Chick trail along behind unfettered so she wouldn’t get upset at being left behind.
As greenhorns, we have the occasional bump in the road rise up to meet us. Michael dismounted to close the gate and I asked him if he wanted to walk Dakota to the mounting bench. “Real cowboys don’t use a mounting bench”, he said and promptly sailed over Dakota’s back as he slid through the saddle on his way to the ground on the other side. I tried not to laugh because I have made my own share of pronouncements followed by abject humiliation. And humiliation for me waited just a few steps down the road as we began to go up a slight rise. I had forgotten to tighten the cinch and I slid gently to the ground, landing on my rear, as the saddle rotated to the right. Gary, our neighbor, says I wear my hard hat on the wrong end. Junie B stood quietly as I adjusted the cinch and finally, we were off. It was a perfectly lovely ride, walking our way around the farm, visiting each house, apple treats for the horses at each stop. A long cherished dream come true and the doing of it was every bit as good as the dream. That was a gift of joy for me in my season of grief and remembrance.
Dianne walked up as we finished up with the horses. We decided to go see the new bridges being built at the end of our road. Mama and David joined us. We parked at the barriers and walked all the way down to the Old Marshall highway checking out the changes to Lower Flat Creek Road. It looks like it might take a year to complete the whole job, especially with the work on the old bridge on the highway going on at the same time. There was a pile of oak wood from trees cut down for the widening of the road. The guys will come back to get that for winter warmth in stoves and fireplaces. We checked to see if Tina and Vince were home at the end of the road. Then on our way back to the truck, we picked up some rocks to help fill in mama’s sinkhole in her backyard. As we drove up to our road, our neighbor Pat, her son Nicholas and his children were walking down to check out the bridges, too...more farm time conversation and checking in with someone dear to us. David and Michael put the rocks in the hole then drove down the hill. I stayed to visit with mama while Michael washed the Kawasaki mule. Chilli for supper, a full moon rise, a chore or two, conversation about the week to come and we slept in the glow of the silvery moon.
It was a day the Lord made and I am still rejoicing in it. Nothing extraordinary and everything extraordinary... Thanks be to God for Sabbath, for eyes to see and ears to hear, for voices to lift in praise and thanksgiving, for friends present and absent, for Sabbath Rest Farm and all who dwell on it, four legged and two legged alike. We are blessed and we know it. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” Amen and amen and amen.