¶  I had to hold space today while my oldest two worked through some really tough feelings.  It might have been one of the most difficult moments I’ve experienced as a mother yet.  Both of them had legitimate reasons to have gotten their feelings hurt.  Neither of them wanted to apologize, but both agonized over the reality that if they didn’t then their relationship might change.  In the life of a 9 and 12 year old that means that they may not get to continue their civil war play outside this afternoon.

Both came to me for answers and I offered the best advice I could, but left them both with the understanding that they had to be the one’s to figure things out and make amends.  Some powerful emotions and serious words came out of each of their mouths as I stood in the other room and hoped it ended well.  Thankfully, it did, and moments later they were playing outside letting out the cheerful sounds of restoration.


​¶  What a beautiful word to me right now.  I am in many ways being made new.  In fact, my time spent in this space on my blog is an outward sign of the making new happening in my life.  A year ago I had become determined to share more, and often, about what happens in the day to day life here on the farm.  Soon after I made that commitment and started to settle in life happened and I was taken of course.  This is an attempt of giving it another try and having lived in a bit of regret the last year I believe I’ll stay the course.

Nathan is very much a long term thinker.  Just today he is having the rest of the tree stump the kids broke down ground so that we can plant another tree.  I think that the heavy winds the other night have really got him thinking about the large tree in the front yard.  It appears to be leaning more every day and the chance of it falling makes him want to ensure we have another tree to replace it for shade.  I’m thankful that he thinks of things like that.

Just like this tree that Nathan is planting-the one that won’t provide shade for years to come-I realize my writing may become something that may not bear fruit for those I know in the here and now.  I’ve come to enjoy the writings of farmwives who lived 50, 100, or more years ago.  There’s something timeless, meaningful, heart wrenching, and beautiful about their stories.  Maybe that is what this space here will become-either for my children or for other women who stumble across it years from now.  May this reflection of the passing of time bring restoration for the passing of time in the lives of those yet to come.