As we enter into March, have you been able to keep your New Year’s resolutions? I’m struggling, but I am not giving up yet. We don’t have to expect perfection immediately, but an attitude of willingness will help us succeed. One of my resolutions was to reach out more to others around me. My thoughts often travel to my friends, neighbors, shut-ins… and the list goes on… but I don’t let these people know. I am so satisfied at home and going about my own business, and that is important, but we are to help each other along life’s way.
Sometimes I wonder where the fine line is of being too satisfied at home. I am a firm believer of Titus 2. We can read in Scripture of being “busybodies,” and I have no desire to be labeled as such. Yet I do want to help others, to be available, to even just listen if that is what it takes. Friends have often carried me through rough times, and I want to be a friend, neighbor, mother, and sister like that too.
On my birthday I was privileged to spend the evening with all my sisters sitting around my kitchen table. That was awesome! With Freda 800 miles away, that does not happen often. My brothers-in-law, my dad and Alice, my children, my niece Karen and her husband and son were also here. I made soft pretzels for everyone, and they brought snacks along. After going out for dinner, we sat around the table and the conversation flowed. We laughed until our sides ached. It was great. I really needed that.
That subject runs into my resolution of making healthier choices again. I have no desire to gain back the 60 pounds I’ve lost. But it was a treat to go out to eat, relax, and eat someone else’s cooking for a change. Restaurant menus have healthy choices too. It’s up to us to make the right choices. Sometimes I throw all caution to the wind, splurge, and then get back on track the next day.
For a long time I’d been dreaming of having an old barn beam put along our east kitchen wall to be used as a shelf. I was keenly reminded this fall at Wayne’s niece’s wedding. Wayne’s brother had fixed up the reception area with old barn beams. I reminded Wayne about my dream. His brother even offered us a beam. I didn’t bank on my dream too hard because I really doubted that it would happen. Shame on me.
Fast-forward to my cousin’s house at our Christmas gathering. Wayne called to my attention the shelves they have in their entrance. They are made of rough-sawn lumber. I really liked those too, and agreed with Wayne they’d be much easier to build than the old heavy barn beams. I teased him about getting it done. His time is so precious, with working in the RV factory plus farming.
Well, one of the first nights the very next week, Wayne called me to come outside to check out the old wood he had found. Do I approve? I still didn’t get too excited, but I did agree it was perfect. We put the plans together. A wide plank for the back, an eight-inch plank for the shelf, and we planned how he would make the braces. By then I did get excited!
The next day we had to go to town, so I got paint to paint that wall to ready it for the shelf. I painted it a brownish tan. On that Saturday, Wayne and Brian fastened the shelf to the wall. Yes, I love it. It is the old look I had in mind. The wall I am talking about is over eight feet wide, and the shelf is pretty much the whole width. The wall looks totally different. It was always just a bare wall where nothing stands along it. It always looked sort of forlorn. Now it looks cozy warm. Several teapots, some candles for light and warmth, a painting of an old Singer sewing machine and a quilt I did in memory of Mom now adorn that wall. Plus there are antique dishes from various sides of the family. We extended a pretty rod between the middle two braces where I hung a “double wedding ring” quilt wall hanging from Mom. This whole project made me lonely for her. She would have come over and watched the whole process and expressed her gladness that I’d gotten the shelf.
I beg forgiveness that I gave Wayne a hard time about my unbelief that he’d actually attempt a project like this. He’s not incapable of projects at all. To the contrary, but he just doesn’t have time for them. He fully supported my idea, and he is also satisfied with the finished project. We share an interest in antiques, furniture, and dishes, and we’ve been lucky to inherit quite a collection of both from family members from both our families.
Let me tell you just what a smart cookie my husband has for a wife. Observant about what’s going on around me is not a natural virtue of mine. One morning upon arising at 3:50, Wayne observed the diesel engine was running to pump water. Upon arriving home from work around 1:00, he observed the engine was running but the air compressor was shut off. He thought surely this engine had not been running all day. But upon further investigation, yes, he believes that engine was running for at least nine hours.
Where was his smart cookie—me? At home, in the house, in my own little world. I had company for coffee and tea that forenoon, so in the morning I was busy getting the house ready. In the afternoon I worked on the north porch, the opposite side of the house from where the engine is located in the barn. I heard the engine in the morning when I went outside to check on some gates between the barns. I heard the engine when I went to the door to greet my guests soon after 9:00. It simply did not register; I simply did not think about it. Smart cookie, indeed. I could dwell on the money burned that day. Diesel is expensive, as everyone knows.
Brian went to a horse sale in the wee hours of the morning, so Karah and I did some of the chores. At 4:00, Wayne tried to explain to me how the gates are supposed to be moved after the horses are out so the feeder steers can get to their field. It didn’t quite make sense to me, but I figured Karah would know. We thought we did everything right, plus I did some reinforcing of the gates so everything would surely be safe. Wayne later told me it wasn’t quite like he’d said, but it worked and all was well.
I harnessed a horse, fed the dog, checked messages on the phone at the phone shack, and headed to the house. The girls were doing their morning chores. Jesse and I got ready, hitched the horse to the buggy, and headed to Shipshewana. We were planning to meet my Raber aunts and cousins for breakfast at the Blue Gate Restaurant to celebrate my sister Leanna’s fiftieth birthday. How I enjoy these celebrations! Heading north on SR 5 that morning, I began to fret with thoughts of doubt about having closed the coal stove. Leaving that door open would be a drastic mistake. I tried to mentally backtrack every step I took that morning. Did I or did I not? Oh great, a smart cookie indeed. I prayed for wisdom, and God gave me peace.
We enjoyed our breakfast and watched Leanna unwrap her gifts. I lapped up every minute spent with these intriguing relatives of mine. On the way home, Jesse and I stopped at the thrift store and the bulk-food store, and then we headed on home. We beat Wayne and Colleen home from their jobs. The coal stove was calm, correctly doing its business… the door closed.
One Saturday night I was lying awake in bed. Jolisa was on the couch coughing up a storm. Sometimes moms lie awake at night. I wonder how many nights my mom couldn’t sleep because of me. I guess I was busy deep inside myself because I did not hear a steer bawling.
Wayne had been asleep when all at once he sat up in bed, quickly got dressed, and went outside. He put the steer where he belonged. The next day I asked him how he knew that steer was out of his pen. He thought it unnecessary to explain. Our instincts are different. Our observations are different. I notice other things he never thinks about. I hear my children in the night if they are sick. We balance each other, each bringing strong points from two different directions. And we shall call it good!
Just having done our taxes and then receiving the papers in the mail regarding the amount of our property taxes makes me question our motive on trying to farm. Sometimes it makes no sense to me.
Now I sit down with a cup of coffee, a mug of water, and three pieces of Dove chocolates. The first chocolate wrapper tells me to go where my heart takes me. Okay, we thought our hearts were in farming, and we’ll probably follow our hearts until we retire. Then the next wrapper reads, “Be a little mysterious.” That fit right in. Farming expenses: cost of seeds, taxes, weather patterns, repair costs, and dead colts are a mystery to me. Why do we put ourselves through this? I don’t know except some people just simply have it in their blood. I shall simply be submissive. Submissive without complaint…
This spring we lost two colts at birth and had two that survived. Brian and I declared no more raising colts. With Wayne working out, it is too much stress. A mare giving birth is a lot more critical than a bovine. Maybe by next April we will have forgotten the stress of the births this year and welcome baby colts to the farm again.
Then the skid loader died. It had hours and hours of use. If men could bake bread with a skid loader they would. We are in need of a new haybine too. Hey, what about the floor in the house? I’ll wait another ten years. Ahh, submissive without complaining…
I did buy some paint. Six gallons to be exact. It was on sale at one of the local hardware stores. I bought one gallon at regular price and got the next gallon for five dollars. That was a great deal! With school out, one of these nice, warm, sunny days the girls and I shall begin. We will turn the house upside down and paint to our heart’s content. And wash curtains, and doilies, and bedding, and carpets. We’ll wash off the furniture and woodwork and scrub and wax the kitchen floor.
Wayne is way patient with me. I love to chomp on ice, and he doesn’t complain about the noise. Sometimes he waits weeks until his pants are mended… literally. No, he hasn’t had to go without—yet. He cheerfully eats whatever I set before him at the table, and he lives with all my shortcomings patiently.
He encourages me in my writing and painting. We discuss everything thoroughly from A to Z. He goes to town with me and good-naturedly listens to me tell people I love having him along to care for the horse, as if that were the only reason. He never complains how much I spend. He never has. He never questions my motive on buying something. I try hard never to give him reason to. So what if taxes are high and skid loaders and baby colts die? We have each other.