Demolition and Rebuilding

The other day I was working in the entryway of this hundred-year-old house painstakingly removing layers and layers of paint from the beadboard, trim, and doors. I have been working on this same project for the last three to four weeks. When I first started I was excited to find what treasure might lie underneath, what kind of wood had the original builders used, what would the grain look like, would it be the same all the way through or were different types used as they had to replace a door or one finial or door moulding? About a week ago I became despondent. "It's taking too long. I still have the library and the ceiling in the living room, the stairs and the wainscot leading up the stairs to strip. I'll never get done. Maybe I'd be better off just painting it all white and be done with it." Oh, how tempting it was to give in that day. Instead I set the job aside and decided to just work on one door a day, or one small section and not look at the overwhelming task before me.
Yesterday I reflected on how easy the demolition had been. It took us only three days to completely gut most of the downstairs, tearing down walls, brick fireplace fronts, an entire kitchen, a laundry room down to the studs. Two days later we brought a crew of four guys in and they ripped out all the floors downstairs, the subfloor and the joists. Everything but the foundation was gone. We were looking at the ground the house had stood on for over 100 years. We had stripped this old house down to its' skeleton in four days. What we found under what seemed to be a sturdy, solid, well-built home was not good. The plumbing in the kitchen had rotted through the pipes and when you turned it on it bubbled like a miniature fountain on the dirt below our kitchen leaving little reflective pools near each break in the line. The joists were termite eaten and were no longer adequately supporting the house. The foundation was set on large rocks stacked on the surface of the earth that had settled from supporting the weight of the house for so long leaving it three and one-half inches off level.
Then the rebuilding began. It hasn't been swift like the demolition was. In actuality it has been very, very slow. I liken it to what seems to be going on in our personal life right now and the lives of so many friends I have talked to. The Lord is moving in a mighty way and it has stripped us to the core of our being. It has driven us to our knees praying for mercy, it has caused us to look at who we are and most times not been happy with what we have found. I look at the demolition as an unkind word spoken to my children, or a terse word spoken to my husband in haste and watch the hurt in their eyes as they turn away. It was swift and complete and only took a word. I have seen the hand of God working in my oldest son. Peeling away layers of hurt and pain covered by the sins of a teenage experience heaped on by the loss of his brother Luke when he was only four. The process is slow and painful. I watch him working through all the emotions and finally coming to grips with all he lost and can only pray the Lord will bring His peace and comfort to rest on his troubled soul.
So we are once again rebuilding. We have been stripped and look to the Creator of all things to do a work in us, to bring us to the place He has in store for us, to build our faith, to run and not be weary, to look at what we are going through with anticipation not dread.
If you are at this point in your lives then may I commend you. The Lord is at work making you and I better fit to serve in His kingdom. Don't give in to the temptation to cut the process short, allow the Lord to strip you down to your foundation. Allow the Master Builder to get all the way down to the studs. Pray the rebuilding, although painstakenly slow, will make you stronger, more patient, more giving and the end result, at least in this remodel, will be beautiful in the eyes of our Lord and Saviour.

Demolition begins

New House

Summertime

We just finished dinner and ohhhhh how delicious it was. We had roasted chicken with a side of green beans, potatoes, carrots and onion, sauteed with garlic and butter, and a fresh tomato, cucumber, onion and basil salad with Italian dressing. Everything including fresh basil snipped from the garden and prepared to arrive at the table within an hour of picking. I can't even begin to express in words how filled with flavor everything was. I LOVE summer gardens! Each vegetable carried its own distinctive identity that filled every delectable bite with yummy goodness.
I hope everyone has had the opportunity to plant a summer garden. I was at a 4th of July party yesterday and the host lived in a beautiful subdivision with every family having a beautifully landscaped yard-nothing seemed out of placed. Each lot was at least an acre and I offered the thought that there was plenty of room in the back for a couple of chickens to lay fresh eggs and they all looked at me like I had spoken a foreign language. Conversation stopped, everyone looked at each other with a quizzical, slightly confused look on their face. There was not even a tomato plant to be seen. Don't these people know what they are missing? It always takes me back to the thought of what happens if we have to provide for ourselves? What if there are no grocery stores open to buy food? What if trade becomes so restricted that food no longer moves freely from state to state? Will we be ready? Will we be able to feed ourselves and our family? The folks I spent the 4th with were wonderful people but they had no sense of urgency about the state of our economy, yet Joe Biden himself today said their administration had misspoken about how severe the outlook for the economy is. Prepare, says the Lord.

Zavat gives birth

I don't think I can add too much to this video other than life is precious! Even down to the smallest farm animal; to watch a live birth is amazing, emotional, tearful, and a gift from the Father above. What a priviledge we have been given to experience such a miracle! Tears fall even as I write this to know the sanctity of life in a newborn child is threatened every day through abortion and I am moved to my soul with the birth of a baby goat. Why can't we as people see ourselves as the Lord sees us-His precious, loved children. Each and every one.

Initial presentation of the hoof

This video shows the initial presentation of the kid's hoof. Notice how white the hoof is. All baby kids are born with a white covering over their hooves to protect the mama during birth. The coating falls off in a day or two after birth. We are just getting started here and the kids (mine, I mean) and I are very excited but also very nervous about what is coming next. The hardest part is yet to come.

We have so far lost two guinea hens. The first broke her leg somehow and Tim had to kill her. The second has an interesting story that leads to its' untimely demise.
One sunny day we all walked out to admire the chickens and how cute they were. Joe, the studly rooster that he is, was strutting around proudly claiming his territory. Each seemed content pecking in their own areas except this one guinea whom I believe discovered a grain stash Joe was protecting. As she passed Joe heading for his stash he suddenly reached out and grabbed this not-so-small guinea in his beak and wouldn't let go. Oh the noise she produced, squawking and crying out; her little guinea feet slashing through air trying to find ground again. Joe held tight though until he felt she understood the point he was trying to make. Then as quickly as he had grabbed her he let her go. She stood there for a minute acting as if she were going through a checklist. Still breathing-check; head still attached-check; feet on the ground-check; and off she went and seemed perfectly fine.
Every day we watched to make sure there were no serious injuries and until about three days after the attack she seemed fine. Then we noticed her getting progressively worse as the week wore on. By the end of the week she could not breath nor could she hold herself up. Finally one day she just died. I was puzzled by this because she had been doing so well with no problems so I did a little research into the behavior of chickens. I found that when one of the hens in a clutch has an ailment the other hens(notice I'm talking hens here)instead of coming to her aid and helping her through this difficult time actually peck her to death. So each night when the hens went in to roost they were literally pecking her to death day by day. Isn't it interesting that this is a typical female behavior. Why are a group of women talking referred to as the hen house? What is it they talk about? Are they theoretically killing a wounded friend with their tongue. I know I cannot hold myself blameless. Please forgive me if I have ever wounded a sister or brother through thoughtless words aimed to kill their spirit. Lord help me to continually lift up and nuture those around me to help them "live and not die" and grow to become what you will them to become. In the mighty name of Yeshua.