Judging

    Thinking about what defines us makes me observe others habits as evidenced in their houses and yards. Looking into the lives of others scattered about the local area makes me feel curious. It is a strange motivation to have, this voyeurism, all in the name of feeling justified. I think I can tell what somebody is like by looking at their home and yard. While cognitively I know it is wrong to judge by outward appearances, I cannot help but wonder what makes my neighbors tick. Come take a walk with me and make your own determinations

It is a sunny day and the weather is not too bitter. A bit of exercise should do us some good.

I love the shadow play of winter light on the snow. The outlines of the bare trees are blue. It is a happy blue.

 

Briefly, I wonder if we have any mail. However, the driveway is so long that I do not want to pick it up and walk all the way back to the house. Plus, the last thing I want to think about right now are bills and responsibility. This is an effort, after all, at gaining mental sanity in the depths of winter. My doctor has prescribed sunlight and exercise for me as a way to ward off seasonal affective disorder. I think taking walks really helps. Bills will wait for the time I am out.

 

There are little back roads all over the neighborhood and they have a mix of astonishingly poor homes as well as prosperous homesteads. It is a fairer treatment of the land than sprawling suburbs. After living in a treeless and densely packed subdivision while we lived in Colorado, I vowed to try and avoid the tightness of all that. Here, people can breathe freely. I do not regret the time spent in Colorado. It taught me that a house is just a house, and not a reflection of my insides. Which is why I find it interesting that I look at other peoples homes and make judgements about who lives inside.

 This made me laugh pretty hard. It sat outside of a shack that was more of a hovel than anything else. The folks inside have a wicked sense of humor. Poverty does not preclude happiness. Why should I assume that? I would love to meet these neighbors and tell them that their joke brought a smile to my day. I shared it on Facebook hoping to make others laugh too.

I love this fence! I want one to surround my cabin. Did the owners make it themselves, or did they hire it out? Their place is neat as a pin. It is a real joy to walk by. I wonder if their lives are neat too? I know better, everyone has their own set of complex issues.

I walk by this sign and feel like I need retrieval. I wonder if there is a road around here named Redemption? Or how about Revival? That would be good too.

This barn belongs to my immediate neighbors. Looking at it, I wonder if they would sell it to me when I get enough money. I love old barns. I wonder what it would be like to keep horses, or goats. Something, anything to justify a barn! For now I just take pictures of other people's barns. Barn lust equals envy. Hmm... Not so good. Is it Okay to wish for something I do not need right now? Or is it fine to dream of things to surround myself with that would please me? Some people crave big new cars and designer clothes. I like old ratty barns. I do not think the intent changes whether it is fancy clothes and cars, or whether it is old ratty barns God looks at the heart. So for now he is working envy out of my soul. I am pretty sure he will give me a barn when he thinks I am ready.

This cute little place always has it's grass mowed neatly in the summer. There is no extra junk hanging around like there is at most of the country houses around here. People shuck their belongings into big scrabbly piles of old metal, tires and junk. Sometimes I like it because it adds character. Other times I hate it because it looks like a physical embodiment of laziness. Having inherited my own junk (piles of old tires left behind from when the land was used for a paintball range) I cannot cast stones at anyone. I am guilty of white trash piles. These judgements are leftover from my city days. I grew up in San Diego and if the lawn was not kept well, you were seen as a deadbeat of sorts. When I see a space that is wholly uncluttered, I am a bit jealous for the type of commitment it  takes to live neatly without extraneous possessions. Alas, I have never done neat well and have a love for old rusty things.

I love the clean lines of their small steel barn. It is just enough.

Returning home, I see a giant old tractor. It is covered with the kind of rust I love. There is no shame in loving pieces of history. What is better, Living clean and simple, or living with a slightly junky exterior? Does the junk mean slovenliness, or does it mean that the local dump would charge too much for proper disposal? I found out that all the tires we have, which were used as bunkers for the paintball range, would cost five dollars apiece to get rid of. Wow, that would run us around six hundred dollars to take care of!  Not  wanting to count myself slovenly means I have to adjust my opinions of others, otherwise I have to lump myself with a group I despise. 

Why do I despise what I do not know?

 There are so many complex thoughts attached to this little walk. I wish that my mind was completely free of judgmental ideas. It would be nicer to be open and friendly. It used to be that I did not even know I was feeling this way. God keeps allowing me to be in the position that I worried about  being in the most, and then shows me that it is not what I thought it was. I am thankful that he never leaves me mired in my sin.

 My next walk will be spent praising him and accepting others as I would like to be accepted. It was a pretty walk wasn't it? I sang praise songs and listened to the birds more than exercising my prejudice.

  I am defending myself now.

 Praise God that he accepts me with my cluttered mind and of course my junk. Watch my blog and see how I grow. Try not to make the same mistakes I make. If I can do any good, it is that you can use my life as an example. Somethings I get right, and some things I get wrong. So long as God has me in his hands I am okay. I love you, whoever you are, and so does God. If he can love me with all my warts than he can love you too.

A Brief Respite

In an unexpected but welcome break from subarctic temperatures in Missouri, the outdoors came to life. It was a very good day to take a short hike in the woods behind the house. With the dog bounding down the path, through brittle leaves that sounded like potato chips crunching, both humans and canine were content. Getting out is tough when the cold is so deep and dry that your breath doesn't have vapor when it leaves your mouth; it instantly dries up and is sucked out of your lungs and leaves you puffing. On this walk however, it was warm and the subtle greens tucked in around the mahogany browns and quiet shades of winter bark, promised a future where the world would awaken from it's deep sleep and once again be a fruitful place.

    Fruitful is a word that I have been dwelling on all day. Mostly because housework that I had to do  gave instant gratification. Sometimes getting everything in order makes me feel like I am wasting time though. Weird, huh? While a clean house enables me to ultimately be more creative, it is something I wish were not so repetitive. I never get to the actual creative process as I am too busy doing dishes or laundry. It makes me impatient with myself, or this life stage. I still have a kid at home and the other one recently moved out, who takes a bit of worrying over and managing even though he is not under my roof. Mothering seems like it will never end. Yeah-yeah, I know, it will all be over way too soon so I oughta enjoy it. The question is if fruitfulness can be measured in painting, essays, photographs, etc., or is it measure by the human hearts I have influenced? Perhaps fruitfulness shown in the hearts of my family, would be more personally fulfilling if they would stand up and cheer for the cleanliness and cookies and fresh bread that were produced today. Alas, there is no cheering section, just another pile of dishes left over from the baking spree. Still... the homemade snacks bring me satisfaction more than anything pulled out of a package ever could. I don't care if they are consumed quickly by my guys and gone in an instant. I like home made goodies too.

 The remains of summer flowers stand in testament to a fruitful time. Like those summer flowers my kids will grow and leave behind only the memories of their childhoods. Will the never ending chores have provided the clean and pleasant home that they remember? Will baking cookies and bread remind them of the safe place where they started? Will it matter that I didn't make my artistic debut during the years they spent at home? Will I look back and truly experience no regret for the time I spent serving my family? Or will I always be wondering"what if"? I can honestly say there are few opportunities I have turned down to forward my career when I have had the chance. The day to day expectations of running a household has taken priority nonetheless. Which choice was right? I think I know that caring for my family will have eternal rewards. But I think about the parable of the servants who were entrusted with talents. The guy who got the most invested wisely and doubled his masters money. Servant number two did well also with a few less dinars in his pocket, but was praised anyhow. The scared servant who only had one bit of money hid it, and his master was pretty pissed about it and called him lazy.
    I used to feel like the servant with the three talents, but over the years I thought that maybe I was the guy with two, and than finally the despised servant with only one, which he buried. I have wondered if I buried my talents in the ground of my home and children. However, I am not made with endless resources of energy to devote to my skills of photography, writing and art after a full day spent looking after hearth and home.
    I wonder if God is pissed at me for burying my talents? I smell a lie somewhere in that thinking, but I know I need to talk to my pastor to get it straightened out.

    It does not stop me from wanting to show you the cool stuff that God makes. In the middle of winter it is much easier to spot the small beauty. These Hen of the Woods mushrooms would be overshadowed by the lime greens of spring. They are special and deserve attention. I see them, they are brown and mossy, like me. I don't show up well amidst the showier individuals out there. Still, there is beauty in quiet. I hope God thinks so too. He likes humble and hates pride. Does he take extra special delight in this brave winter fungus? Does he take delight in my housework too?

    Moss is small, but I learned that on a warm day, it will shoot up little spires almost instantly. As it basks in a little warmth it takes full opportunity to bloom and send out fresh spores to further populate the forest floor with it's beauty. Moss is tenacious and survives the most bitter cold while maintaining a lovely rich green. What a brave little plant. It thinks, "There is no time like the present", and is fruitful at every chance it can get. It makes no excuses, saying,"ooohh , it is so cold, how will I ever survive?" No, it waits patiently for a little bit of sunlight and encouragement and it takes off. I want to be more like moss.
    Don't you love how God makes miracles that are such good teachers? His glory is available everywhere.

Head Shot

    After many days spent hibernating we finally got outside today for some sport.

 Meet the players

J.C., age 18 and confident.

Joshua, age 14 and spunky.

Big brother usually gets little brother with a multiple of snowballs.

 Finally Josh lets a perfect snowball fly at J.C.

 This one was the best shot of the day. 

    Booyah!

Then Josh died laughing.

 

There was some good natured ribbing afterwards.

.

They are still friends.