Busy summer time...

It has been a busy summer here at Sabbath Rest Farm. With normal amounts of rain, we have had a regular hay season. Pastures that were once full of weeds and scanty grass have been lush and full. Fertilizer and regular cutting have encouraged the grass to grow and some of our pastures are now really pretty. It has been several years since we were able to fill our barn with our own hay. This year we may get a second cutting and if the rain comes again, a third cutting in the fall. Hay baling is hard sweaty fun work with visible rewards... a barn full of hay bales.
My perennial border by the front walk has been beautiful this year. For the past few years I have planted flowers with varying degrees of success. The combination of drought and hard red clay were tough on flowers. I laid newspaper down, covered that with thick layers of mulch and have begun to reap the rewards after three years. Earthworms live in the flowerbed. There is a layer of dark, rich dirt topping the clay and the flowers are crowding out the weeds. I still have weeds but not nearly as many as before. It has been an explosion of color, texture and form since the daffodils bloomed in the spring.
As I look out my window, I see garlic(allium) blooming on tall graceful stalks. Bright yellow daylillies bloom in a sea of bright pink achillea. Sweetly scented pink phlox surround the blue hydrangeas with yellow yarrow floating above left over blue bachelor buttons. The old English rose blooms tucked in among the achillea. Pink Echinacea is in full bloom. Black eyed susans and orange daylilies are on the verge of blooming. They will come about the same time the butterfly bushes bloom in front of the porch. There are blossoms everywhere and the busy bees, hummingbird moths, and hummingbirds add movement to the kaleidoscope of color. Sunday morning I picked a bouquet for worship from my front walk flower beds.
The field behind our house that was graded for the stable was a sea of red mud for most of the winter and spring. I seeded and spread hay... twice. Michael fertilized it. Now we have green grass growing sprinkled with milkweed. Where do all the weeds come from? To a butterfly, milkweed is a grocery store full of the food it needs so I leave most of them but the thistles have to go. Finches can find plenty of thistles in other places on the farm. In another year or so, the horse pastures will be like the perennial border, lush and green. It takes time, rain, good growing conditions and a lot of sweat equity to grow a pretty pasture.
The pond has been restored and now hosts a veritable tide of tadpoles. Everywhere you look you see squirming wiggling black dots of future frogs. There are no fish yet in the pond but that is the next step. The waterfall and wading hole for dogs and small children offer a refreshing place to sit a spell with your feet dangling in the water shaded by the oak tree. The turtle is back home after his extended road trip. The cranes and ducks have not yet gotten the word but I trust they will come again. With Charles’ and little Michael’s help, we have moved rock, shoveled gravel, planted grass seed and sprinkled hay (again), crafted a beautiful little pond that is a place for the soul to rest.
None of these pretty places came into being easily or quickly. It has taken months and years with hard work to bring the vision into reality. It is so much easier to dream something than it is to work it up and out. The same rule for gardens and pastures and ponds holds true for my spiritual life. I dream of becoming a faith filled serene joyful presence in the lives of those who come my way, a pleasure for God, a person who is the same inside and out. Making that dream come true takes longer than three years and needs more than seed and mulch. I have to work for that dream, devoting time and effort, sweat equity, to see my spirit’s flowers begin to bloom. The weeds will continue to grow but if I spend some time every day in my soul garden, I know the flowers will begin to fill in the empty places.
Prayer, time spent everyday in cultivation and weeding, connection with others who are searching as I am, reading my Holy Book, listening with my third ear, seeing with my third eye, being willing to “grow where I am planted”... these help my soul garden grow. The rain does fall on the just and the unjust alike but the just know enough to say thank you. So I say thank you... thank you, God, for all the fertile places on the farm and in my soul. I can hardly wait to see what blooms next. Peggy

Scootching along...

Without the contemplative dimension in our lives, we cannot be fully human. Mother Mary Clare


It had been a perfectly lovely Sabbath day. Worship with our church family, lunch, reading the Sunday paper, nap, international soccer game, lawn mowing of the walking path, brushing horses and donkeys, a trip to Barnardsville to check out the ten acre hay field we will be baling on Tuesday, visiting Vince and Tina who are still under the weather... The perfect end to a perfect day was sitting with our farm family watching the sunset, drinking cherry coolers and talking about the days of our lives. Jeannie will come home from the hospital Monday or Tuesday after her successful knee surgery. Sam, Leisa’s black lab, looked yearningly at our cat Wiley as a possible appetizer. Talk of helpers for the hay baling was counterpoint for the garden report from Tim. Gentle laughter at remembered bloopers, lovely sunset and moon rise, cicada song and bat flight, slow departures with hugs and pats...
Michael returned the phone call from our friend in Louisville as we sat in the swing on the front porch. Suddenly all the air was gone and I was gasping for breath. I was in a thin place where breath and life and death live next to God. Our friend has cancer and a new baby granddaughter at the same time. His treatment is going well and there is a good prognosis but the cancer was advanced. He has become one of the band of brothers who live with reality of their own death in a particular way. We sat for awhile, tasting our grief and tears, praying for him and his family. As I watched the fire flies bright points of light in the dark night sky, I imagined all our prayers for him as signal lights calling for God’s presence in his new life as grandfather and cancer patient.
I am reading Anne Lamott’s book Grace Eventually and one of her images has stuck in my mind. She describes our progress as Christians in motion terms... two steps forward, three steps back, marching forward triumphantly or scootching along on our bottoms... all are a part of our process. We do what we can as we can as best we can. And sometimes, scootching along is the best we can do. The important part of the process for me is not how I am moving but that I am paying attention as I move, a contemplative dimension as Mother Mary Clare says. The call from our friend last night was a reminder to savor, slow down, see the goodness that surrounds me and give thanks for all that has been, all that is and all that is to come. Whether I scootch or stride, live in health or sickness, am filled with joy or struggling with darkness, I remember to Whom I belong and give thanks. “Be still and know that I am God.” I am still and I know. Thanks be to God.