A Pathetic Saga

The following tale is not exaggerated in facts by the imagination of the writer, as the last one was, but is an accurate account of what happened or happens when one is working and getting carried away.

My sister, Hannah, and I went out this evening to pick up any loose objects around the farm since the river continues to rise and we didn’t want anything carried off. We made a general outline of the farm and then went to check on the garden which is very water logged.

We got a shovel and a hoe and started making drainage canals in attempt to save some of the vegetables from rotting. The grounds was/is saturated and are rubber boots got suctioned in the thick soup-like mud (more like getting stuck in tar), we were able to get out as long as we moved around so we did not sink to far down.

Everything was going fairly well until I forgot about this and remained in one spot for several minutes. After tugging and pulling on my boots for awhile I got off balance and my hands went down and saved a fall but they did get a thick coat of goop. Hannah wasn’t to enthusiastic about helping me with my goopy hands so I gave another try, I lost my balance again and with a ker-plop I was sitting in the garden with my boots still stuck. By this time both of us were laughing so hard that I could barely do anything but at last I did end up on my feet on solid ground.

For a while I was much more careful and avoided the murky mess and I was once again successfully operating our canals. But what is the fun in falling in mud only once? Of course it must happen again and sure enough it did. This time my only chance of getting out was to grab the back of my boots and pull forward. I did, trying not to pull extremely hard so I could avoid another fall. It still wasn’t working very well so I gave a final yank and scream as I ate dirt. I really couldn’t believe it had happened again and Hannah was doubled over laughing and I was weak from it, bringing little help to the situation.

My fall forward did one good thing...it loosened my boots and I was finally able to stand up again. I went about three steps and then Hannah attempted to help by grabbing my shoulder but that ended with me in sitting position once again. I was quite worn out and so just drove through the rest on all fours...right into the smelly ditch of water so I could get some of the thick goop off me...
...and so ends my pathetic saga.

Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink ~ Psalm 69: 14a

Lydia

P.S. Rachel came across this bible verse and thought of me...

We have been having extremely wet weather within the last month: Rain, rain, and more rain.

We live on the Wild Rice River in the very south-eastern part of ND; our place is on a loop of the river, which is rising rapidly. I have been watching the water fluctuate the last few weeks, but it never struck me at how high it was getting until I saw sandbags, shovels, and a pile of sand in GB, on my way home from music lessons.

In just a few hours the water has risen many feet (in distance, not depth). It is right up to the chicken coop and I think we will need to evacuate the poor poultry to a drier place. The horses are loosing more of their pasture also.
Dad is down to Tewaukon Dam to see if the people there will hold up some of the water. The people there seem more concerned with wildlife drowning, than the farms down river; our neighbors are quite upset. More rain in the forecast: we’ll see what happens.

A bright note about all the rain: Great reading time!

~R

Recently news has traveled around the farm about the Chicken Movement which I have ignored for the very reason that it was ridiculous. And I was not the only one who laughed at my siblings exclamations of the Chicken Movement.
First of all they had been watching Chicken Run a lot and had let their imaginations carry them away so that they mixed up real life and fiction. When the chickens began burrowing in the sand by there pen walls they claimed the chickens were organizing an escape. The next stories were that the roosters were against them and organizing a KKK to kill us and take over the farm. These tales were dramatically told wide eyed, along with hand motions and voice inflections to convince all of us of the serious situation. I laughed and protested against these claims while I explained to them that chickens enjoy burrowing in the sand and roosters chased people because they were protecting the hens.
But tonight everything almost changed when I collided with the Chicken Organization. Thankfully I retrieved common sense in time before going insane.
It all started when I had to do the chicken chores because my brothers has forgotten about Tae Kwon Do and had to leave in a rush leaving chores abandoned. A while later Mom sent my five year old sister and me to do them. We collected the eggs first and did not have any serious trouble with the chickens except for a broody hen that refused to get off one of the nests. My next task was to give the chickens their grain behind the coop; I did this quite casually but my leisure moments did not last long since a glance behind me warned me of terrible danger. I turned to see a rooster with a terribly sharp beak, spurred legs, and gleaming eyes coming straight at me. Instead of making use of my bucket I tried to make a beeline for the door but my left knee wanted to buckle and relax at the same time making it difficult, at last I managed to get to the door and slam it behind me just in time...I nearly took the roosters head with me. As I had run all my siblings stories about the chickens had come pouring into my head so that I let out a horrified scream and jammed a rock up to the door to hold it closed while I shook off my exaggerated mindset. Mary was digging around behind the barn when this happened and at my scream she looked up and asked what was wrong...I just gulped and croaked “nothing” and turned away to get rid of my last shudder.
I felt very silly for letting my imagination concoct such a funny picture and letting myself believe the silly farm fantasy. In my desperate two second run for life I truly believed in the hilarious chicken KKK...All I can think of is Animal Farm by G. Orwell (except that it ISN”T really happening!)


Lydia

This wheat field was waist high this morning before the storm. We watched the wind rain and hail flatten it in minutes. 

This first post is dedicated to my dear friend Abby R. for her support in getting it up and running. It will be interesting to see how this online journal works with three contributors (a fourth may be added in the future).

I started an online reading class for the first time at the beginning of the month. I chose an author I knew virtually nothing about, Flannery O’Connor. Upon reading the first story in the book (also the title), “Everything that Rises Must Converge”, I was very perplexed. A petty, lazy boy thinks up ways to provoke his fussy mother, and eventually drives her to a heart-attack, resulting in death before his eyes.
I was told she was a ‘Christian’ author and there was much to learn from her. As I have continued reading, I’m fascinated by her writing, and the Christian virtues she displays.
The stories depict petty, but normal people who let their pettiness grow until they do and unthinkable deed, like the murder mentioned above. There is a vast amount of prejudice in her characters, and O’Connor uses it and their pettiness to correlate exactly along the faults of the readers. I have to say, I've been watching my own selfish ways.


"All my stories are about the action of grace on a character who is not very willing to support it, but most people think of these stories as hard, hopeless and brutal." ~Flannery O'Connor


Rachel

Hello,

Think of this...here is my first post!

The other day I was paging through an old God’s World News from last July and I spotted an interesting article entitled “The Last Cluck”. And I quote....

“The memorial service truly was a sad occasion. But it was not sad because of the dearly departed.
It was sad because humans were actually participating. The Solemn ceremony in a Tokyo hotel was sponsored by Japan’s Agriculture Ministry and the nation’s poultry industry. It was a Buddhist-inspired funeral for chickens.
Yes, about 300,000 Japanese chickens had to be destroyed because of last winter’s avian flu. “We wanted to express our regret to chickens for having to kill them,” said Hideyuki Shimada, a director of the Japan Poultry Association. He said the service was also to thank chickens for providing food.
More than 200 mourners bowed their heads to pray for what they claimed were the souls of the dear departed. Then they bowed to an altar arranged with a stack of eggs.
“A memorial service is extremely important,” said one Poultry Association official. Just as important, that is, as the memorial services commonly held in Japan for things like dead computers, television sets, shoes, and kitchen knives.”

My first reaction after I had read the above was to laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing, but, after pondering it for a moment I realized that it was truly a very serious situation. The bible clearly states in the 10 Commandments that we are not to make idols, but to worship God alone.
Everything, in the end goes back to God, the creator. Yes, the chicken does provide food. But where and how did the chicken come about and who enabled it to provide food? And the same question applies to computers, television sets, shoes and even kitchen knives. Because, God made man and he enabled man to function with his mind and body. He also provided him with brains to think, build and create.

God fully deserves all glory and praise for what he created and provides.

Lydia