Happy Sabbath!


One of the most delightful commands that God has given to mankind is to rest on the seventh day – to keep his Sabbath. To stop the rat race, to cease from your desires and pursuits, and focus introspectively on your life and how you live it, and spend some quality time with Him.

This week, the Sabbath feels so good. I’ve been going pretty well non-stop in a semi-misguided attempt to cram everything humanly possible into this Winter Break before I have to go back to work next week. Spent a few days in the yard working on cleaning things up, then burnt the evening oil working on the chicken coop, fished a hard days fishing yesterday with no fruit to the labor other than the beautiful river on an exceptionally cold day. (It turns out that 23 degrees may be too cold to fish…), then spent some time last evening with some good friends and former co-workers watching the Ducks beat Kansas State, then played some games until WAAAAYYYYY too late…

Needless to say, as this Sabbath began, and I finally stopped moving. I realized how incredibly tired I really was. There’s some danger in starting the Sabbath this exhausted, and it’s not my preferred way to begin…  all you want to do is sleep rather than study, but I’m excited to dig further into the book of Job this evening.

We often refer to the patience (probably more accurately ‘longsuffering’) of Job when we talk about someone who has to deal with a bunch of difficulties, or as one person once told me. “You work with middle school kids… you must have the patience of Job.” My response: “Well… that’s the problem, because no. I don’t – they drive me insane.”

Let’s just leave it at, “Patience is something I could certainly benefit from.”

I just want everything done. I just want to snap my fingers and have the coop finished. Snap my fingers and have the projects done, the urbanite patio, the retaining wall, everything that I’ve had on the docket and working to collect materials for and didn’t get to before the rains hit. *SNAP*

… all done.

The truth is, and you all know this lesson well – the reward isn’t worth it unless the work has been put in. It takes work to build a homestead, to make a home.

Recently, I have been hearing/seeing this song everywhere. Many of you have probably heard it. If you haven’t, check it out – it’s got a catchy tune, and a decent message. Phillip Phillips – Home. We heard it this past weekend at Karaoke with our friends from DC, then it seems like since then, I’m hearing it everywhere. It’s not a new song, and I don’t know how I managed to miss it to this point.

Despite not having television, I manage to stay pretty well connected socially through Facebook and the internet to various trends, and pop culture. (Sadly, it’s a necessity for my job to be up on what’s going on in the world of MTV and other idiotic programming, memes, etc… – you try connecting with 14 year olds if you don’t know what GTL stands for… ) You’ve got to be up on the lingo, people!

Anyway, back to my point. Phillip Phillips. I was listening to the lyrics of the song, and it really spoke to my thoughts of late. Almost like it was meant for me to hear it and listen.

Just know you’re not alone…
Cause I’m going to make this place your home.

Just relax. Place your trust where it should be placed, lean not on your own understanding, trust that I will take care of this, and all will work out the way its supposed to. I will help make your dreams come true here. Be content with what you have.

…In other words, stop grabbing the wheel and trying to drive the car. I’ve got this. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.

A very hard lesson for me to learn. But seeing how God held Job in the palm of his hands… even after all the catastrophe and calamity that befell him. He didn’t keep him from the storm, but he protected him through it – it’s an incredible blessing to know that you have God on your side.

Particularly as my wife and I start down this road. Things have fallen into place, materials for the coop, gifts of food, excellent counsel. It feels to me as though God has blessed our efforts as we’ve worked to make this place what it is.

… and if I’ve got Him on my side, I haven’t a worry in the world.

Shabbat Shalom

Homeward Bound… well, not yet…

Fun Fact: The Simon and Garfunkel song “Homeward Bound” was penned by Paul Simon while he was stranded at a train station in Widnes, England.

An industrial town — Widnes is best known for other exports, such as “Blinky” the three eyed fish, Black Lung, and Sporty Spice (though, to be fair, she wasn’t born there; only educated during her formative years) — so when you listen to the lyrics of Homeward Bound, you can understand why he longed so much for ‘home’.

It doesn’t take the “amenities” of Widnes however to make us long for home.

We could be in an amazing place, with friends and family, and still have that twinge within us for ‘home’ — our own bed, that crispness in the air, a walk among the garden beds with your morning coffee… I think when you have put so much work into your homestead, that longing can be even more pronounced. In reality, when you work so hard to improve what you have – you pour yourself into the land. Blood, sweat and tears; time, intermingled with soil, mulch and earthworms. Leaving, is ultimately like leaving a bit of yourself behind…

Therefore, the desire to return to that place you have painstakingly amended, mulched and altered to become your own little slice of heaven is that much more pronounced.

I’m feeling that longing today. We’ve been travelling since the 19th, and we’re not home yet.

It’s been a bit since I’ve posted anything new. In fact, my last posts were the night of the big windstorm. Since that night, our life has been a bit of a whirlwind, and a roller coaster of ups and downs. That evening, Shannon’s grandfather lost power at his home, and headed out to the shop on his property to fire up his generator. While out in the shop, he had a massive stroke, and passed out on the shop floor, where he was found the next morning. He never regained consciousness and passed away soon after in the hospital.

Frank was a good man and I appreciated the opportunities I had to glean from his years of wisdom.  He had what some term, “country wisdom” –a type of wisdom that is disappearing rapidly today — and provided us with a lot of good suggestions on the building of our coop.  (Though, humorously, his experience with chickens jaded him somewhat. Years and years ago, he and his wife had a large flock of chickens on their farm, and the roosters had gotten mean enough Dixie wouldn’t go out and get the eggs anymore, telling him that if wanted the eggs — that he could go deal with them. The coop had gotten termites, and the birds were starting to become more of an annoyance than a benefit, so he went outside one morning, gathered up the eggs, butchered the chickens, and set the coop on fire to get rid of the termites.) Despite his overall disdain for chickens, he was genuinely interested, and excited about what Shannon and I were doing on our little farm. He was strong in his faith, raised 3 wonderful children who have all grown and raised families of their own. He lived a good life, and we will miss him terribly. We say our final goodbyes this coming Friday morning.

So with the events surrounding Frank’s death in the back of our minds, we made the push to get everything ready before our trip. I finished the insanity of the final two days before break and my brother-in-law and I frantically tried to get the metal on the coop roof so that the framing could dry off while we were gone to Texas. We managed to finish that Tuesday night, (the 18th)

On the 19th, with Thing 1, Thing 2, and Thing 3 packed into the car with all our stuff, we nosed the Swagger Wagon in the direction of Spokane and put the pedal down. Driving through blizzard conditions, we managed to make it in, get the car unpacked and get Thing 1, and Thing 2 set up with Grandma, nab a couple of hours of sleep; then Shannon, Thing 3 and I boarded a plane series of planes the next morning for Brownsville, Texas and ultimately South Padre Island.

We spent 4 days in SPI, where we had a chance to relax, meet new family and friends, and witness one of the happiest of human events as my wife’s brother and his lovely fiance became husband and wife. We all shared a beautiful house a stone’s throw from the beach and with 16 people in fairly tight quarters, we got to know each other REALLY well. Jokes were made, much fun was had, and we had a lot of good laughs. The wedding was beautiful, right down on the beach with the sun shining, the bride glowing, and smiles beaming on the faces of all.

There is something beautiful about being witness to the beginnings of a new life together, so much so that I almost feel bad about what we did to their car. But all joking aside – we wish them nothing but the best, and were so happy to be able to be a part of it.

As they headed off on their honeymoon, the rest of us enjoyed one last night at the house, and headed back to Spokane on another plane series of planes. Sitting here in Spokane the day after we got back has given me some time to reflect on the trip, and the differences between the two states. Texas is a beast all its own, and I think the differences are even more pronounced when the two states you’re comparing are Oregon and Texas. In that vein, I’ve put together a top 10 list of “Jeff Foxworthy” like observations from our trip.

10) You might be from Oregon if you have a moral debate with yourself before attempting to throw away your glass beer bottle, then ultimately wash it out and put it on the counter because you just can’t bear to throw it away… Recycling? What’s that? (Actually, we all had a good laugh at the billboard that said, “Recycling: Join the Movement”)

9) You might be from Oregon if the concept of NIMBY actually means, Not In My Back Yard. In Brownsville, the acronym should be PPAWWTPIMBY, which stands for, Please Put Another Waste Water Treatment Plant In My Back Yard… The most commonly asked question as we drove through it was, “Did you fart?” No? Oh… it’s just ANOTHER Waste Water Treatment Plant right in the middle of everyone’s backyards…”

8) You might be from Oregon if you look all over the store to find the beer aisle, and think to yourself… Where is it? What?! THIS IS THE BEER AISLE?! Where are all the microbrews?

7) You might be from Oregon if you see stands on the corners of streets in Brownsville with small windmills, and shout, “YES!! THEY HAVE DUTCH BROS. COFFEE”, only to find that no.. they’re purified drinking water dispensers… You’re definitely from Oregon if you outwardly sobbed after you made that discovery.

6) You might be from Oregon if you are a beer snob, coffee snob, AND drinking water snob. I drank some water at the Brownsville airport that made me wonder if I was actually drinking reclaimed waste water. I should have known something was up when my rental car agent handed us two bottles of purified water…

5) You might be from Oregon if you are used to signs that say, “Caution, Ice on  Roadway.”, “Look for Falling Rocks”, “High Wind Warning”, and are prepared for appropriate action… but you take a moment’s pause at the sign with flashing lights that says, “Watch for Pelicans when Flashing,” then think to yourself… what exactly AM I supposed to do about that?!

4) You might be from Oregon if you’re the only person getting ready for the beach wearing a sweatshirt, hat, and long pants.

3) You might be from Oregon if you are mildly offended by waffles shaped like the state of Texas, and to get your revenge — you cause a Category 5 ‘syrup tornado’ in the Dallas/Forth Worth, San Antonio, and Midland areas. Actually, in retrospect, this might be more of a sign of mental instability than a regional quirk.

2) You might be from Oregon if your concept of getting around in your state is just hopping in your car and driving to where you need to go, and being astonished that simply getting around in Texas requires multiple days in a car or air travel.

1) You might be from Oregon if you’re surprised at the police presence at the local Walmart… Actually, that’s not a difference…Thank you Walmart for making us feel at home.

In all actuality, all the above observations were made with tongue firmly planted in cheek. We had a fabulous time, and really loved spending time with the family on South Padre Island. I’m already plotting and planning when I can get away to SPI again for a bit longer period of time. It’s a beautiful place — and the warm sun, tropical breezes, and relaxing location was a much needed vacation from the snow, ice and stress of home.

Despite all that, as I sit here in Spokane typing this blog entry, my mind can’t help but wander back to the homestead; the chicken coop, our upcoming projects, my own bed… and I am excited to return to it.

There’s a quote by novelist George Moore that hangs on my wall at home, and in the last couple of years, it has become one of my favorites.

A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.

-George Moore


May you all find whatever you’re looking for; you might want to begin your search in the backyard…