Texas Farm for Sale, Seriously!

 

My dear Dad bought this place in about 1978 and now it's mine and now I have to sell it. The place is in Marquez, Texas, and you can see it on Lands of Texas. It's about two hours from Houston, Dallas and Austin, so you can get away from your rat race out there. Very peaceful and quiet. Lots of wildlife and good sunsets. Let me know! It won't last long. It was very nice while it lasted. I will miss it.

Dance the Leaves Down

Dance the Leaves Down, Lord, November’s almost gone!
I’d surely forget to change the seasons. Their comings saturate my eyes with their heralding, their season, their flash in the pan.
It’s dark today and overcast and cloudy. The clouds are moving pretty swiftly now, sending gold to the ground.
Gusts of wind dance the leaves down to the piles on the ground. The colors are auburnished. Some have begun to fade.
Soon the framework skeletons of trees will show and winter will set in. Silhouettes swaying, contrasting the daily skies and nights.
But today, a few leaves still cling to the life they knew. They aren’t fazed by the wind yet, don’t feel too chilled yet.
The rain will mat them all down. Cars will drive them into powder and mush. We’ll forget their short time of glory.
Then ice will come, maybe snow, cold winds and different surrounding light for Christmas.
Inside the trees the process of growing new leaves courses along to spring, the glorious spring. fine portions of God’s designed chemical processes we can only copy.

Retirement

 

I think I could stand this, don't you?

The Gifts God Gave Us

Where does art come from? How is it delivered? How is it received? How does the brain "go away" while the artist works? Does time become a different dimension during that process?

The art, the delivery of it, the reception of it, the brain's occupation and time's dimension during the process are all gifts that God has given.

Arts come from inside a person and involves all parts human: heart, soul, mind, body. It is delivered with paint and other materials manipulated, with words written, with steps danced with or without music, with the scenes and accoutrements of a play, and with the tones and timbre of rhythm and musical instruments and voice. The brain goes to sacred places during the art process. Only God Himself, the Creator of it all, enables these creative messages from artists. The artists could be called the little creators.
Time expands when the manipulations and creations unfold, when the little creators work.

The art of the little creators in all their media can glorify Him who made them. Will you? Shall we? Must we? Yes, for the groundswell is begun. The wave of art and faith is building and we ride it because the little creators are hard at work, producing art that unbelievers can read with their eyes and their ears and their hearts, and they can begin to know God. That's what the gifts are for. These art works are sacred. Thanks, Creator God!

An Artist's Prayer

Thou, O Lord, art most high above all the earth. Grant, therefore, Your strength and truth and blessing to all of us on earth who desire and love Your presence, as makers and viewers of art work. May we bring glory to Your Name by displaying Your excellence through the lives and gifts You have given us. I pray in the Name of Jesus the Christ, amen.

The Music of the Wind

I love the music of the spheres, the music of the wind on the fields and trees, the music of the shadows and the truth. I love the music of souls that hurt and seek the Lord in earnest for unselfish gain. I love the music of the loved ones gone on before me. I love the music that is made in fervent creativity and performed in honest expression. I love the music. I love the people. I love the instruments and the voices and the forces of physics created for this pleasure. I cannot wait patiently for the joy of heaven where all who love Him will sing.

Uncle Gilbert Gone

A Eulogy for Gilbert. A remembering and an honoring of his life.

This morning, August 24, 2010, Uncle Gilbert died. He was born on August 24, 1919. So he came to earth and went home to heaven on the same day, just 91 years apart.
This jovial kind man grew up on an Oklahoma dirt farm. His father was blind, his mother industrious. They raised Gilbert, the baby, Myrtle the second child, and Haskell, my father.
Haskell told me that when they all went out to work in the fields, they would wrap sugar up in a rag and give that sugar tit to Gilbert then put his shirt tail under the bed leg so he couldn’t get away or get hurt. A sugar tit.
The close family loved each other no matter what happened. They helped each other through all kinds of trials and heartaches. I just love remembering them all from going up to Oklahoma City for holidays. Without fail, the snow would start to fall after Christmas as I looked out the rear window of the pink station wagon as we drove home to Houston.
There is a picture of me, holding Baby Brenda, Gilbert’s only child, when I was five. I sat on Granny Armitage’s striped couch with that precious bundle. The two granddaughters, the brothers’ two kids. I had a brother, older, and Brenda had a half-brother, older.
I just want to say, so the universe all can hear, that Gilbert Wayne Armitage was a wonderful human being. Eyes always smiling, hugs always ready, agreement with men and life in his tone. “Well . . .” is what he’d say.

Wanna Buy a Farm?

 

Maddie Rayne Roam in Leon County

 

Then and Now

Yesterday the sermon dealt with same title. The impressing blessing of the talk was that I worry too much about the "then" when there Is just so much that God is going to do that I don't know anything about! So last night before falling asleep, I prayed with great rejoicing that from that day forward, I would not be worrying so much about "the Plan," because that is in God's hands! I keep walking and He keeps working!

Moved Again

So here we are now, six months in a new home, state, husband job, church, people, the whole shabang is new.Never even set foot in North Carolina before we came to house hunt. The following is something I wrote before the move.


Our new journey=not knowing what to expect. Could be death or birth and certainly things we don't expect at all. The unknown, with lots of variables for 2010, will be full of surprises and disappointments.
What to do to prepare for the journey? Knowing the journey continues whether we are ready or not, taking JOY along deep inside, gives us a sense of God indwelling, protecting, providing.
The Christ Child is the key. The gifts are the example for us to offer ourselves and our gifts in ways we'd never imagined!

God came with us! He was here all along, ready to help and comfort in those times of disappointment, which have definitely come along. Not my will, but Yours, Lord.

I Can't Stop Crying

I bought a card once and keep it still that says, "It's never too late to have a happy childhood."

Not that I didn't have one, it's just that there were way too many complications and reactions to those.

My imagination has always been my friend.

The Lord Jesus, Gentle Shepherd, has saved me more than once, I believe.

The people I loved most are all gone now. "Too late to 'pologize, it's too-ooo-ooo late." Good song and apropos for this situation.

Nancy the singer sang,
"I been siftin'
through the layers,
dusty books
n' faded papers,
tell a story
I used to know,
but it happened
so long ago."

I want to make things that somehow tell their stories. I know about mental illness and adoption and faith and art.

I know about days spent thinking with my eyes open, but all I see is the reflection of my retina on the back of my cornea.

I know about days spent crying because those tears needed to come out so God could put them in His bottle.

What a relief. Thanks, Gentle Shepherd, thanks.

Acquisition Overload

How much STUFF is in your garage? There's way too much in mine. Even though two truckloads have already been hauled away, the stacks go to the ceiling on two sides. I wonder how much necessity screams from those boxes? In all probability, not much. So slowly but surely we will sort and give and sort and toss and sort and save. All the while, I will think about the ways I might need something some day as it hits the "toss" pile. I guess if that day comes, I will have to barter for another whatever it was.

I remain thankful for God's keeping me even though I might not perform as well as intended, or take up the truly appropriate amount of space on the planet. I might never figure out what I want to be when I grow up. But He will still keep me! His universe is filled with souls, but it never overflows! He never says "Enough!" until that coming Last Day. Hallelujah! the Lord has plenty of space for all who hope in Him and accept His gifts of grace.

Land

My little piece of land, viewed from above by the Google satellite, looks different. It appears so much smaller, so much not what you feel when you drive in the gate. The field opens up and rolls ahead of you as you walk in or drive in. You never know what animal you will surprise that takes a quick look then dashes off to hide from you. Except the cows. They don't hardly budge and they're not even supposed to be in there. Sometimes the flowers are so pretty, leaning and dancing in the winds. You can't see any of that on the satellite phot. Just a patch of land, barely delineated form any other in the county. The road is shaped just like you remember it with the sharp turn here, the curve there that finally bends around to your gate. God comes to see you there when you walk outside. On your own land or anywhere, He's there. He'll be there for the next people, too, if they will walk and watch and listen.

Mystery Meat

Did your college cafeteria serve mystery meat?

Here's the Deal

Here's the deal. Life and death keep coming, day in and day out. Since I got here, lessons came and while some stuck, some eluded my ownership. Rebecca McIntosh O'Dell died this week and you should look at the minuscule video on Facebook about her. She lived and taught the truth and loved really well.

She learned to survive brain cancer while her husband progressed from mysterious stiffness to death itself. She survived his death and seven years past her prognosis. In their dying they both lived their faith with a joy unmatched by most.

Joy is not the absence of suffering but is the presence of God. That joy is sacred. The knowledge of God is sacred. We can compose ourselves in the face of life. We can acknowledge the sacred and search for the knowledge of God. Are not peace and joy the goal?

I know I learned from Rebecca once and for all that God is absolutely not a kill-joy or a backhand when I sin. He doesn't count my missteps, although I will be accountable for them one day. He enriches my life with His presence. He has welcomed Rebecca home now and waits to welcome me some day.

That's the deal. We believe and we go home to God.