Our sermon Sunday was about prayer. Specifically, what God says about prayer and setting time aside to “do” prayer, and what prayer “is”, or what it should be. The Bible says to pray without ceasing and not to be showy like the hypocrites or use big fancy words. Dang! I love big fancy words! Ok, but let’s be real. I’m a mom and I don’t have an hour or two or more (if you’re really a good pray-er) to do this “prayer thing”.
It is a relief that our prayers should not be long, flamboyant, fancily-worded or showy. It is also awesome that My God understands where I am in life (the mother of busy young children). I don’t need to be in church to pray, kneeled by my bed or in a rocking chair with my Bible on my lap (how pious, eh?). I can pray right now as I write this blog and the sun is coming up over the hills. One line, “Wow, thanks God, that’s really beautiful.” One line. Thank you. Prayer. Done. Simple. God is honored.
I can pray while I’m milking my cow, even. (I know, you’re asking if I’m ever going to stop talking about this silly cow…)And what’s cool is that God hears that prayer just as loud and clear as he hears the one of the monk who has been meditating all morning. I am not discrediting meditating or monks here, don’t get me wrong. I’m just saying in our busy lives there IS time for God. There IS time for prayer…one sentence at a time. I don’t even have to voice it out loud, although sometimes I do. I don’t have to fold my hands or close my eyes (my four year old will tell you different). I can just have a conversation with the Lord right then and there…lest I forget, procrastinate, forget what I’m thankful for, decide I can handle it on my own…etc.
Something else that’s cool?! The grandmother I met at the playground in Moscow over the weekend who is here visiting from Phoenix while her 10 year old grandson undergoes treatment for leukemia (scary for this family!)…her name was Marilyn and I know precious little more than that. I can pray and God knows who I’m talking about-even though there are thousands of Marilyn’s out there!
The point of my writing today is not that I am “all that” with my prayer. The Lord knows I could and should pray more, but isn’t it exciting that it doesn’t have to be a huge undertaking? I can pray without ceasing in little blurbs all day. Little conversations with God. Little sentences of thankfulness or need throughout the day…
Be blessed today, Friends!
I’d had enough! The cow keeps opening the barn door. Apparently alfalfa is like crack to a cow and let’s not even try to figure out what Corn, Oats and Barley might compare to. It was too blasted hot yesterday and besides that, it was Sunday. Sunday, my God-Appointed day of rest. So as soon as Creighton (baby #2) was down for his morning nap out went Mason and I to fix some things. First we hammered fencing staples in the wire panels that separate the main section of the barn from the section where the hay is and where I milk the cow. Then, I moved two horse panels in and fastened them so the hay was completely divided off from where I milk. This task didn’t require much more than muscle, but when it’s 100 degrees out it doesn’t sound so fun. Then we raked (as best we could) the hay out of the barn and made it a little more cleanly for milking. I’m
lucky blessed that this cow is old (and bony) and will stand nicely (nice and still) while I milk and has only once attempted to put her foot in the bucket (she didn’t appreciate some mold in the hay). However, the dog appreciated the foot in the bucket because then he got the milk…hmm..,
So I had to call my dad and thank him today for the skills he taught me. I think they’re just normal every day things that people know how to do, but unless you’ve lived the farm life you probably have no idea. 🙂
On my frig sets a note from the church we attended before we moved. The anonymous note was written as a prayer request and it reads, “Please pray for an estranged relationship with my sister.” I know nothing more than this, so I pray for both sisters, for whatever hurt occurred, for forgiving hearts and that they would know the Lord.
This note card often reminds me of my relationship with my own sister. Not because our relationship is strained-heavens no! But because we have a tough-as-nails bond. I really don’t know how or when it happened. We grew up playing together on the farm. I didn’t care for her barbies, she didn’t care for my horses. We were united over toy tractors and our bicycles with streamers for the parades we made. We were pretty good friends throughout high school, but I picked on her a lot, trying to make her tough. One time she had enough and she kicked the snot out of me (I totally deserved it). We were friends through our college years and she was my Maid of Honor when I got married. We sort of drifted when I experienced infertility and she was expecting her firstborn, but that was only because of my hurting heart, to which (looking back) she was very sensitive to.
Now, though? This is a woman who is tough when she needs to be and most of the time very good at thinking before she speaks (something I sometimes lack). She is humble and always someone I can call up and say, “I’m I wrong in my thinking?” She loves unconditionally. She’s someone I can complain to about how selfish my husband is and she gets it and then she can help me see how wonderful he is. We can laugh about how we’ll just sit and talk in 20 years when our kids are raised (as we try to sneak in a conversation between the tantrums, meals and cleaning…and (ahem) facebook). She is someone I can call and vent about ‘what Mom said this time,’ but realize that we’re glad to have a mom! I listen to her rants about her neighbors invading her privacy ALL the time and tell her she needs to toughen up. Alas, we joke that she will never be confrontational and that’s something I love about her…because, let’s face it…sometimes I just need her to listen to me and not jump me over my rants and raves.
Anyway, I talked to her twice today and she gets it. She’s the only one who’s been there for it ALL. All. of. the. stuff. My husband knows it all, but he didn’t experience the first 16 years with me. I generally don’t have to explain the history or the “story before the story,” I can just jump right in with, “Rachael? Are you home? Can you talk?” And then bombard her. I’m sure she thinks I’m a little over the top sometimes, but she accepts me as I am. WOW. How often does that happen in this world?
Anyway, hats off to my great sister. I’m not sure what I would do without you. I love you!
I’m mulling over some deep thoughts today and decided to keep it light and instead, just keep mulling. Here is my son’s first poster. Mason is 4 and such a blessing to us. We read “There was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly” and on the back cover is a bunch of flies and the names of them. He made up his own song about the tsetse fly (“Eesty, Beetsy, Tsetse fly”) and I decided I’d better grab ahold of this teachable moment. I printed out the stuff, but he decided what should go on there and put the title in yellow (so you can’t really see it). He told Jeff over supper last night that he (Jeff) better go to Africa with him, but take insect repellant so the flies don’t bite him. I don’t think he has it figured out that his Daddy isn’t a traveler yet. Perhaps Mama will go?! Anyway, this is a proud moment of many I thought I’d share.
So, I just decided…I NEED A SUPER PAC! If we’re going to get everything, or anything for that matter, done on this house then we need an unending supply of money. Enter: Pedersen for President SUPER PAC. Hmmm…what would my party be? Something that isn’t out there yet, right? The Broke-Parent Party. The BP Party, yeah, that’s it. That works. So there we have it: instead of Romney or Obama, just donate it to me. I’ll use it wiser and be just as selfish with it…
Broke-Parent Party: Pedersen for President 2012. 🙂
WOW. It’s really true. As my husband said this morning, we HAVE been married longer than he/we attended public school. And yes, I did not know what I was getting into when we had to stop and wash the car (corn syrup and powdered sugar) before we headed to Sidney, NE for the night. And, I suppose I envisioned a milk cow in my future, but probably not at an acreage in Washington state! Perhaps Wyoming or the Dakotas? It’s been an adventure for sure. 14 years, 8 addresses, 4 area codes, 6 zip codes, 2 kids, and a slew of critters…Happy Anniversary, Lover (he loves it when I call him that).
So, I’m out milking this morning (there is something so peaceful about milking at a quarter after 5:00am) and I was giggling to myself. Belly Acres Ranch is a tad misleading. A tad? Ok, a lot! We don’t have a ranch at all! We have 2.51 acres with a couple barns, a shop and a chicken coop. I told Mason yesterday that if we have a cow we must be farmers. He said (very emphatically), “No! We’re not farmers, we don’t have a tractor!” Duh Mommy. So the “ranch” name is just for fun.
This is my first post. They say to write something about why I’m starting this.
Hmm…basically everyone has said I need to and while I’m hesitant to “put it all out there” I do realize that I can still give myself and my family privacy and blog at the same time.
Why Belly Acres? Jeff and I joked way back when that we’d name our ranch (if we ever got one) Belly Acres/Belly Achers (meaning, big bellies and/or big complainers). We now have our “mini-farm” out here on the beautiful, rolling Palouse and I’m quickly filling it with useful animals. One hay burner (horse) is enough right now!
Enjoy the posts-mixed with some humor, some seriousness and faith, but hopefully not a lot of political flair (although since it’s my blog I can talk about whatever I want, right?).
Be blessed today!