The earth has yielded its increase, God, our God, has blessed us. Pslam 67
This morning came in with such beauty and grace and it was a blessing to all who witnessed the glory.
Every blade of grass and pile of hay and critter were glowing in the blanket of light from the rising sun.
Our little calf was kicking up her heels and enjoying the way the sun played with the light and shadows, especially on the bleached tumbleweeds stuck in the fences. What a way to begin day. Blessing.
God sustains everything He created. All of creation depends on God for sustenance. We all rely on God, even though we struggle against that kind of dependence. Watching our little calf with her mama, I’m reminded of my relationship with God. She watches over that little baby, even when the tiny bugger kicks up her heels and jumps around pretending her independence. This morning the calf was nose-to-nose with my horse and when Indian licked her little nose, she ran back to mama for reassurance that the horse hadn’t given her any cooties!
I like to pretend I can get my on my own sometimes too.
And I am brought up short by that strange sensation of a huge “lick on the nose” and I go running back to God for help. I continue to reflect in this season of Lent, and I think it’s good for me. I hope I hear God’s truth with these ears of mine that seem deaf at times.
I like the fact that my Worthy of Love is going to be released during Lent, because we all are worthy of love and I want that message to be the one readers come away with. No matter what shame we try to hold onto, God knows better.
To be listened to and heard is sometimes all that we want. Not to be glossed over, brushed by, ignored-but to simply be heard.
I love the Lord, because the Lord has heard my voice and my supplications. Because he inclined his ear to me, therefore I will call on him as long as I live. Psalm 116:1-2
How do we show our gratitude? How do we bless the Lord? It may be as easy as listening to, really hearing those in our lives who need this as much as we do. Everything is so rushed, so short, so text message. 
We are too busy, too wound up in our work, or whatever it is that occupies our minds.
I don’t think we purposefully walk by, but we just forget that we need to stop and really give our attention-especially to those we love and cherish. Do that slow waltz like a long walk down a quiet lane, holding hands-figuratively or literally, and just be.
I read the other day that sacrifice means to make something holy or sacred. I’ve been trying to keep a “thankful” journal on a daily basis. I did very well for a while and then I kind of lost track of putting something done each and every day. I believe we do honor God when we give thanks, and when we give thanks, it helps us to focus on blessing. We should make more time for the things that gladden our hearts.
What gladdens my heart: a good day’s work, a morning run, a long walk in the afternoon or evening or late morning-okay,
a long walk anytime, oatmeal with blueberries, hot coffee, the constant beauty of creation, snow piling up, a thunderstorm, babies, poetry, writing, prayer, sharing a meal with friends or family, getting something hard figured out, my children, the horses in the morning poking their muzzles around in the hay, having the heifer around and anticipating the baby calf to come, and my list goes on and on.
I’m blessed with such a great publisher too. The cover mock-ups for my new novel, Worthy of Love, are a source of joy. I can’t wait for the birth of this novel into the world of my readers. Country love- there is a blessing!
Who are your contemporaries? Who belongs to the same ‘age’ as you do? We all have connections to those who are as enthusiastic as we are about certain things. Do they have to exist, have their breath, in the same lifetime as we do? I don’t think so. From Eduardo Galeano in The book of Embraces:
But there is a Chinese who, thousands of years ago, wrote a poem about a goatherd who is far from his beloved, and yet can hear in the middle of the night, in the middle of the snow, the sound of her comb running through her hair. And reading this distant poem, Juan finds that yes, these people-the poet, the goatherd and the woman-are truly his contemporaries.
I feel this kind of connection with Laura Ingalls Wilder. If I could, I’d send her a note to thank her for putting words to the feelings I have in my heart about the prairie and family and living a good life. I’d write to the Psalmist as well, for the wrenching emotion-joy, sorrow, anger, repentance- that he captures on the pages of my daily reading. There are so many whose words resonate with me! Willa Cather would be on my list. From O Pioneers!:
A mist of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the cluster of low drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a gray sky. The dwelling-houses were set about haphazard on the tough prairie sod; some of them looked as if they had been moved in overnight, and others as if they were straying off by themselves, headed straight for the open plain.
And Emily Dickinson:
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –That perches in the soul –And sings the tune without the words –And never stops – at all –
My barn ritual.
“Rituals are a central part of life whether it be in how meals are shared together, or how major events are marked…Rituals give us places to be playful, to explore the meaning of our lives, and to rework and rebuild family relationships. They connect us with our past, define our present life, and show us a path to our future as we pass on ceremonies, traditions, objects, symbols, and ways of being with each other, handed down from previous generations.”
Evan Imber-Black & Janine Roberts in Ritulas for Our Times
I read this today as a part of my morning reading ritual along with Psalm 46. Many of you know about some of my rituals, like running in the early morning hours each day. Today, I didn’t. Run. Now, as I am writing this, I’m thinking about how much I missed my run and how it really affects my day. Oh, I had good reason, but I still missed it. 
There are rituals or traditions that I count on: a live Christmas tree, lights on the house, family gatherings, snowball cookies, birthday cakes, movie marathons, morning coffee, the shop elevator, pop tarts from Uncle Bob, plow day, fall tractor drive, deer season, Easter dinner with Carolyn and Harvey, dessert with coffee, cotton candy at either a baseball game or a rodeo, Wranglers-Night-Out, eggs & toast & bacon on Sunday morning, fixing fence in spring, feeding bulls in winter, checking stock tanks in summer, rattlesnakes, hooking up the mower tractor, and late birthday cards.
There are so many new traditions I haven’t thought of and so many I’ve left off this list. They are just those little things in life that mean so much and honor the passing of time and those we’ve loved and lost. What are some of your favorite traditions and rituals?
My doctor told me a couple of years ago that I needed to do more than just run five miles a day. Here I thought I was doing so well, I mean, running every day! I told him, “But, my only bad habit is coffee, what do I need to add strength training for?” He gave me that knowing look, the one he always gives me when we talk about “bad” habits, and said that it had nothing to do with coffee. I am getting older, he said, and I needed to be sure my bones are getting a work out too. I need to be sure they are strong. So, three days a week, I do strength training after going to his recommended trainer to help me establish a routine.
I went and listened about how important stretching is and how I should be sure to stretch first and then I learned a routine that will strengthen my bones-mostly arms it seems to me.
I do this routine pretty faithfully, except the stretching. I’ve never been good at taking the time to stretch. So, theoretically, now my bones are stronger. I have no idea, but I’ve never broken a major one. I’ve had fingers and toes broken by some too close encounters with uncooperative horses, but never a major bone. I think it’s the coffee.
I know there are other places where I need strength training. I’m still working on a 
writing space so I can practice strength training in my writing. I keep my Bible handy to practice strength training with reading scripture. I have daily reminders I try not to ignore to practice strength training in my prayer life. I’m thinking about other areas of my life where I need some strength training. I’m taking this season of Lent to contemplate and pray and act on the things that are important to God- to strength train my spirit and soul.
…but let those who boast boast in this, that they understand and know me, that I am the Lord; I act with steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth, for in these things I delight, say the Lord. Jeremiah 9:24
By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust and to dust you shall return. Genesis 3:19
These are words, the origin of what we call Ash Wednesday, spoken as ashes are imposed on our foreheads-a reminder that we are sinners and time for us to focus on repentance. References to the ritual of this day, date back to Anglo-Saxon abbot, Aelfric (955-1020). He encouraged the sprinkling of ashes to remind us to repent during the Lenten fast at the beginning of the season of Lent.
Job also refers to this kind of repentance in chapter 42, verse 6: therefore I despise 
myself, and repent in dust and ashes. But what does it mean? It’s like when my kids were little and they did something wrong and began to say they were sorry when they knew they were in trouble, but the behavior didn’t change. I’d tell them not to apologize unless they meant to change the behavior. And isn’t it the same with us?
So I’ve been pondering Ash Wednesday and what it should mean to me. Some answers can be found in Isaiah, when the Lord speaks to those who ask Him why He doesn’t notice when they fast:
Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I choose; to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. Isaiah 58:5-9
I look to do some fasting during lent and when the hunger pains come, to let them remind me that I need to repent and to pray. And as I look around my world, to do my utmost to be just, to lift up others who are burdened, to be generous with those who are hungry 
(right in my classroom) and homeless, in need of clothing, and most especially within my own family. I did not expect to read that, and wonder how you could turn away your own family when they are in need.
And such rewards! I will call and God will answer, “Here I am.” Like a child, lost, alone, and scared in the dark, God will answer. So I can see, dimly, that whether or not I give something up, there is much work to do during this season of Lent right here in my prairie filled backyard. I feel the call to make my writing something that lifts up, that breaks yokes, that calls to best in people. It is my hope.
Indian enjoying a good roll after a long ride.
This was a weekend for good friends of all varieties. Sunny and gorgeous on Saturday morning, after our chores were done and we had a yummy late morning breakfast for Valentine’s Day, we saddled up and went for a ride. The horses were full of themselves, having not been ridden for a month or so and we were full of the warmth of the sun and beauty of creation.
Oreo, ever curious, loves the camera. He’d take selfies if he could.
The heavy winter coats of our mounts made for the sweet smell of a sweaty horse when we returned. Dropping as soon as I removed the halter, they both had a good roll. Top that off with a long tractor drive and one stop for hot cocoa and a Bit-O-Honey and you have the makings of a great day. But, that’s not all…a special Valentine’s dinner with another couple and it was a lovely day and great evening fellowship.
We talk a lot about how busy we all are these days and how we don’t take the time to just visit anymore. We made up for that this weekend. Nothing Earth shattering, just simple conversation with good friends-good for the soul. I’m so thankful to have such dear friends. Sunday brought more fellowship with old friends of mine and now they are friends of ours. I left the place I’d lived for a long time when I moved three years ago. I hadn’t realized how much I miss the people. We met for lunch: Ev and John, Tom and Jeanne, Sally and Robert. It was wonderful to catch up, laugh, share our lives and even take few funny photos.
I got to thinking about all of that on my run this morning. One hundred and fifty miles is really not that far. We should be able to manage more of these times of fellowship- we need them and I think God smiled down as we all talked and laughed. I know our friends here would love our friends there too. Everyone can use good friends, no matter the distance. So, in my reading of Small Move, Big Change, I want to find a way to make this kind of fellowship happen a little more often-even if it’s only a couple of times a year. I hold all these friends, near and far, dear, so I made the commitment to myself to be sure that we do come together more often.
Like the horses, after a good long ride, we can shed our halters and roll the itch off in the dirt and hay, rising up refreshed and ready to kick up our heels!
A sunrise that reminds me to “Dare Greatly!”
I’ve been listening to a book as I drive back and forth to teach each day. Right now, it is a book called ‘Daring Greatly’ by Brene Brown. It is all about living in our imperfection and living in vulnerability with those we are closest to, and hopefully, with everyone we encounter. Being vulnerable is scary. It is much easier to hide behind our various masks.
I like the words, daring greatly. They come from Theodore Roosevelt:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
The words give me hope for I am often marred by sweat and I fall short, but I do strive and I hope it is a valiant striving. You can decide not to walk a bit because ‘what’s the point if I can’t run for an hour?’, or you can leave your words in the dark, never daring to share them because ‘what if no one likes them?’
OR, you can DARE GREATLY!
 | Kathy Cordes on The Outhouse |
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| Michael Moore on Grandpa’s House |
| Kathy Cordes on Indian and the Helicopter |
| Kathy Cordes on Cathy 24 March 2023 |
Sally Gerard 