In Plaster

In high school I read poetry for competition. The following poem was one of my favorites, and yet, it was borne out of a great deal of suffering. Its author, Sylvia Plath took her own life one day, with her infant son safely tucked away in another room. Last week, her son took his own life.

In Plaster

I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now:
This new absolutely white person and the old yellow one,
And the white person is certainly the superior one.
She doesn't need food, she is one of the real saints.
At the beginning I hated her, she had no personality --
She lay in bed with me like a dead body
And I was scared, because she was shaped just the way I was

Only much whiter and unbreakable and with no complaints.
I couldn't sleep for a week, she was so cold.
I blamed her for everything, but she didn't answer.
I couldn't understand her stupid behavior!
When I hit her she held still, like a true pacifist.
Then I realized what she wanted was for me to love her:
She began to warm up, and I saw her advantages.

Without me, she wouldn't exist, so of course she was grateful.
I gave her a soul, I blomed out of her as a rose
Blooms out of a vase of not very valuable porcelain,
And it was I who attracted everybody's attention,
Not her whiteness and beauty, as I had at first supposed.
I patronized her a little, and she lapped it up --
You could tell almost at once she had a slave mentality.

I didn't mind her waiting on me, and she adored it.
In the morning she woke me early, reflecting the sun
From her amazingly white torso, and I couldn't help but notice
Her tidiness and her calmness and her patience:
She humored my weakness like the best of nurses,
Holding my bones in place so they would mend properly.
In time our relationship grew more intense.

She stopped fitting me so closely and seemed offish.
I felt her criticizing me in spite of herself,
As if my habits offended her in some way.
She let in the drafts and became more and more absent-minded.
And my skin itched and flaked away in soft pieces
Simply because she looked after me so badly.
Then I saw what the trouble was: she thought she was immortal.

She wanted to leave me, she thought she was superior,
And I'd been keeping her in the dark, and she was resentful --
Wasting her days waiting on a half-corpse!
And secretly she began to hope I'd die.
Then she could cover my mouth and eyes, cover me entirely,
And wear my painted face the way a mummy-case
Wears the face of a pharaoh, though it's made of mud and water.

I wasn't in any position to get rid of her.
She'd supported me for so long I was quite limp --
I had forgotten how to walk or sit,
So I was careful not to upset her in any way
Or brag ahead of time how I'd avenge myself.
Living with her was like living with my own coffin:
Yet I still depended on her, though I did it regretfully.

I used to think we might make a go of it together --
After all, it was a kind of marriage, being so close.
Now I see it must be one or the other of us.
She may be a saint, and I may be ugly and hairy,
But she'll soon find out that that doesn't matter a bit.
I'm collecting my strength; one day I shall manage without her,
And she'll perish with emptiness then, and begin to miss me.

It is hard to understand what kind of agony this woman lived in, to write such words. And yet it has spoken to many people over the years. Some of the best Psalms are written when David was dealing with harsh circumstances...and yet out of that time comes great work..words that touch our soul thousands of years later. Paul's wonderful letters to the churches; which have provided us with so much wisdom and insight, were written because he was imprisoned. Somehow in suffering we find that common denominator with one another. That one thing that we can all relate to. Suffering. Real or imagined, it feels the same. For Mrs. Plath, it was real...yet she had no hope. For David and Paul it was real...but they HAD hope. They had truth.

As for man, his days are like grass,
he flourishes like a flower of the field;

¹⁶ the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.

¹⁷ But from everlasting to everlasting
the LORD's love is with those who fear him,
and his righteousness with their children's children-

¹⁸ with those who keep his covenant
and remember to obey his precepts.

PSALM 103:15-18

Here a chick there a chick everywhere a chick chick...

Well, we are NO MacDonalds,
and we ain't got a farm,
but we do have some growing chicks.


AS I was reminded on Saturday by some of my most beautiful lurkers (and you know who you are)...it is high time for another chick update. Well they are a few weeks old, and on Saturday their home was spiffed up and re-tooled and moved to its new location.

Sunday night they spent their first night out of the "Nursery" that was our garage...which was building up with so much dust from their presence, once they began to have feathers..etc..that I had to run the windshield wipers each time I left the garage...very fine, yet, thick dust.

Ugh.

As you can see we have a varied assortment of purebreeds...and we are having fun trying to figure out what kind each one is. Some, even have feathers on their feet...which has been a real treat for us this time. So, there you go, just in time for Easter. A chick update.

The Story

Several years ago I happened upon a book that revolutionized the way I look at life in general. Or at least the way I try to look at life. The basic premise is, there is more. There is more to our lives, more to this existence. We are part of a larger story. Here is a quote I read today from a later work by one of the authors.

Christianity isn’t a religion about going to Sunday school, potluck suppers, being nice, holding car washes, sending our secondhand clothes off to Mexico. This is a world at war. Something large and immensely dangerous is unfolding all around us, we are caught up in it, and above all we doubt we have been given a key role to play. -Waking the Dead

Isn't there something deep within you that screams "YES!" to this? To know that there is an epic story occurring and somewhere, somehow I'm not only connected, but a integral character in the final outcome?

I matter.

So do you.

They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony;
they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.

Then the dragon was enraged at the woman and went off to make war against the rest of her offspring—those who obey God's commandments and hold to the testimony of Jesus.

Revelation 12:11 & 17

CHICKEN UPDATE!

I know, I know...you just can't wait to hear from me on the status of my lovely Bantams, right?
I understand.
Well, wait no longer....
My daughter took some photos yesterday.

They're in that lovely, scraggly, puberty phase right now.

Another Free Download from Behemoth.com

Here's another free download from BEHEMOTH.COM. TEN P'S IN A POD. I've heard a lot about this book over the years. It is a story about life in a large family. So it is nice to get it in an audio format. Because I have over THREE BOXES of books by my bed, waiting for me to read them. So here's one I can "read" while cleaning, chauffeuring, or working. A great deal. Good through the end of March.

The few, the proud, the chickens!

First thing with a baby chick is to help it get to water asap. Especially after a hard trip. Taking each one in hand the children and I dipped beak after beak in water. Waited for them to swallow, and then dip again. Checking every few minutes and picking up the weaker ones again and again. Not giving up hope until we are certain that death has occurred. Then quickly remove it and focus on those remaining. At the end of the first 48 hours home we had removed 1/2 of them.



These are the few, the hardy...the chosen!


But still, for the next few days, one or two a day perished.

Each week the temperature of the brooder is reduced by 5 degrees... as they begin to feather out and are able to keep warmer on their own.


So come on over! Let your little ones play with them! Just remember that a chicken has two friends that aren't our friends. Sam and Ella. Salmonella is great for the chickens, it keeps them healthy, but it makes us sick. So wash your hands!

THE BABY CHICKS!

My husband reminded me today that I haven't blogged about everything going on around here. I am so sorry! So, hold onto your seat. I'm going to publish three posts in a week...yes, I need to watch out...my heart might not be able to take the excitement!



Three weeks ago,(the day after the Presidents Day holiday to be exact) we received a call from our Post Office. "Umm... your baby chicks have arrived, but they are all dead."

They still belonged to us, so I had to go pick them up. In the back IAHL was sitting, mourning the loss..."why did we even have to go get them if they're dead?" As in, I don't want to have to deal with this..why are we?
But I explained that someone needed to give them a proper burial. That would be us.

So with fear and trepidation we ordered more for delivery the next week. And we got the call Sunday morning...from Charlottesville! But having attended the first service...(a little unusual for us) we missed the call and they didn't leave a message. So we were invited over to my parents house for lunch with all the great-aunts and uncles and assorted extended family. I was anxious, but couldn't justify a 110+ mile round trip to visit a closed Post Office, with the possibility they were already on the truck to our town. So I pushed it down...and tried to put it out of my mind. Apparently I was successful, as I didn't think about it until 5pm when I checked my answering machine remotely. Yep, we got the call (from Harrisonburg!)

Now at this point I'd like to mention, (in my own defense) that we have NEVER received calls from the Post Office on Sunday. And this is NOT the first time we've ordered chicks. So I don't know if all these people just felt sorry for us and our loss only the week before, or what. But we have never been called on Sunday.

Back to my story. A Harrisonburg postal worker called and said they were there but she would only be at work until 4. (YES, it was 5 when I got it) But I still called the number, just in case.
NOPE.

By this time, I am literally climbing the walls emotionally. Every maternal hormone in my body has kicked in will full force and I am overdosing on adrenaline. But I look calm on the exterior. My dh keeps reassuring me, but even he is surprised that I am so worked up by the circumstances. I just know that every hour counts...literally... tiny little body counts.

So we called OUR local postal worker, because we know where he lives, and ask him if he has any ideas. Nope, but he's willing to check inside at Mt. Crawford to see if they've been delivered yet...absolutely.
What a saint.
We pick him up, drive him to BOTH post offices to see if we can find them, and realize that they are locked up like Fort Knox in the 'burg. Even our local Postmaster got into the fray and tried to get information for us from said lockup, but nothing. God Bless those two.

And we waited.

First thing in the morning I called that number given to me on the answering machine.
"Oh yes, they are still here....drive around back and come in to get them". So I do. Drive past the gates that say NO ADMITTANCE, walk up to the loading dock, terribly intimidated, knowing full well I am not an employee..and finally find someone to help me. (insert blank look on the worker's face).
It is eventually determined that they were NOT still there when I called, they were delivered to my Post Office that morning. Like an hour ago.

We got them, finally.
Only three dead.
Trampled.
Then began the watch....

....but if it was me....

I don't know about you, but there have been times in my life, times of intense worship that I wondered what it would be like if we were just swept up into the throne room of this amazing God. To continue on for eternity. Wow. Any time I get there it would be cool. Any way.

Today I read the words that LTC Jeff White was singing when he died,whose family I mentioned in an earlier post. Apparently, having been recently reunited, the entire family was singing a song in front of their home church.

OK, so here's the song.... (the words at least)

Angel Band
My latest sun is sinking fast,
My race is nearly run.
My longest trials now are past,
My triumph has begun.

O come angel band,
Come and around me stand.
O bear me away on your snowy white wings
To my immortal home.
O bear me away on you snow white wings
To my immortal home.

I know I'm near the holy ranks
Of friends and kindred dear.
I've brushed the dew on Jordan's banks,
the crossing must be near.
I've almost gained my heavenly home,
my spirit loudly sings.
The holy ones, behold they come,
I hear the noise of wings.

O bear my longing heart to Him
Who bled and died for me;
Whose blood now cleanses from all sins
And gives me victory.

O come angel band,
Come and around me stand.
O bear me away on your snowy white wings
To my immortal home.
O bear me away on you snow white wings
To my immortal home.

Pretty close to Elijah's chariot, huh?


You've all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You're after one that's gold eternally.
I Corinthians 9:24 The Message

Run the race as if to finish it..

Crazy Dress Day

WARNING: uNsociALiZeD homes schoolers ....proceed at your own risk....






Jonathan "Jonnie Boy" Lohr



















Corbin "call me George" Fawleyman



Actually this was just a fun "dress-crazy-&-let's-go-out-for-pizza-night"
(with a number of other silly people)

By all accounts they had fun. There was supposed to be more photos posted of the entire group...but I have not found them yet.

We are not alone....

Somewhere....

...over the Rainbow...bluebirds fly...birds fly over the rainbow...why then, oh why can't I?...



Yesterday I received the news of a girlfriend whose husband died Sunday while singing in the choir at their hometown church. He had just finished an 18-month tour of duty in Iraq. They were looking forward to his last assignment before retirement. They had three children, the oldest, a girl, was about 11.

My heart grieves for this family, the children for their loss, and the widow,for all that she must endure. So much will change, now, for them. So much loss. My heart is heavy.
But then there's the rainbow.
A promise from our Creator, to us. One of many promises. And I know it to be true.

1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?

2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.



3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;

4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;




6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.


7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;




8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.