The Farm is Calling...

It's the Sunday after Christmas

    and that means one thing

        if you're a Thomas...

            the farm is calling.

I still remember the wonder

    of my first Christmas on the farm

        eleven years ago

            back when we were just dating.

I had been prepped on all the names

    of my boyfriend's 4 "G" uncles and 3 "S" aunts

        and all their spouses

            and all the cousins upon cousins

                from young kids

                    to adults having kids of their own.

I remember in detail the meandering farmhouse

    walking into the room where I played Up and Down the River with some uncles 

        or In a Pickle with some aunts

  

  with the pile-of-coats-and-shoes off to the side

    to the kitchen table with chairs for a fraction of the people

        where the scent of Sister Schubert rolls already filled the room

    to the TV room, already tuned to the UK/UofL game with Grandpa in his easy chair

        (my Christmas-y red wasn't welcome in this big blue nation)

    to the bathroom with the most unique toilet seat

        I've ever had the privilege of sitting upon (sorry, no pictures of that!)

    to the overflow bedrooms where you go

        to eat or play a game or take a nap

    to the "dining room" with easy access to the buffet line

        a smorgasbord of enough food for lunch and dinner and leftovers

            pulled pork and chicken

            Brittni's ramen noodle salad

            Grandma's famous baked beans

            the little ham sandwiches...

    to the bedrooms where the cousins find toys, hang out, and make mischief

    to the room where all the action happens

        49 stockings lined the wall

            (I didn't get mine until I was officially part of the family,

            even when our Christmas at the farm was 6 days before our wedding)

        the pool table covered in delectable dessert options

            Grandma's yellow cake

            Ann's mint brownies

            M&M rice krispies

        the massive gift exchange and subsequent wrapping paper fight

    and finally to the sunroom where I'd often sit with Grandma

        if she wasn't too busy directing the incoming platters

            or hugging one of the 49 people (now over a dozen more)

                represented by the stockings

And the food and family and frenzy and festivities

    have continued much in the same fashion

        for the past eleven Christmases

            as my boyfriend became my fiancé and then husband

                and we contributed 4 stockings over the years

This year is drastically different.

Grandma, the matriarch

    of the ever-growing clan,

        is celebrating her first Christmas in heaven.

While we would have, of course,

    preferred that she were still around to offer us a hug,

        she offered us the gift of gathering -- 

            her funeral in mid-March

                caused the whole clan to come together

                    mere days before the whole country

                        closed completely from COVID.

And, because of COVID,

    a Christmas gathering of dozens of people

        seemed unwise

    so instead of sitting in his easy chair surrounded with people today,

        Grandpa sits alone with the memories,

            decades more than mine from eleven Christmases

Yes, the farm is calling today,

    but instead of going,

        we'll be calling the farm

            and wishing Grandpa a merry Christmas.

We remember the good days

    and we hope for good days to come.

(sadly, I can't find any pictures from my dating Christmas in 2009 

or my engaged Christmas in 2010)

2011

(look at Grandpa's face in the background. Ha!)

2012

(An autographed copy of Cameron's favorite picture)

2013

2014

2015

(What a difference a year makes!)

2016

2017

(either...So many people! or So much cake!)

2018

2019

(2014 - when I insisted on a scrunched timer photo indoors)

White Christmas

(poem written this early snowy Christmas morning before anyone else is awake)

Of all the songs she could request

Memaw chose “White Christmas”

... “just like the ones I used to know”

I fumbled through the words

    as I thought through the rarity of a white Christmas

        in Indiana where I grew up

        and even more so in Kentucky where my kids are growing up

Yet this year You did it, God

You blanketed our streets and yards with snow

    as a little gift after the hard year we’ve all had

    some “merry and bright” to add to our “masks and social distancing”

As I drove the slick streets to pick up

    the cheese and strawberries and milk in our grocery order,

        I was thinking of this gift 

            You were giving Lexington this year

                and I was thankful

            And almost in the same breath,

                I realized just how treacherous this two-mile trip would be

                    when I slowed down at an intersection...

                    ...and kept going

            I passed wrecks and sirens

                and prayed and praised my way to Wal-Mart and back

And I realized that a White Christmas brought with it a choice: 

        gratitude or grumbling    

        joy or complaint 

Many would see this gift of snow and be thankful

while many would only have eyes for the negative of what snow can bring

This Christmas morning...

I don’t want grumbling to take up any space in my thoughts or words

This Christmas...

I CHOOSE gratitude

I CHOOSE joy

I CHOOSE wonder...

...the wonder of a God who came near into a world  of grumblers

...the wonder of a God who delights in reaching into His storehouses of snow to give us 

        a white Christmas

What's in front of me...

(poem written on 12-18-20)

I'm a dreamer. 

I've always wanted to "do big things for God."  

I want my life to count. 

I want to leave a legacy. 

And here I am. At home with 4 boys. 

No longer teaching music to preschool - middle school. 

No longer leading elementary chapel. 

No longer investing deeply in a small group of fifth graders. 

No longer serving in children's ministry 

    (since our family still hasn't been in a church building, all these months later).  

And I found myself dreaming again

    of influence, significance, leadership

        ...someday...

            when the Coronavirus has blown past (will it ever?)

            when I have more bandwidth

            when the boys are older

And I heard a whisper

        BE FAITHFUL WITH WHAT I'VE PUT IN FRONT OF YOU

            (yes, I hear God in all caps, 

                    not in a rude, shouting way 

                    but in an Almighty, set apart way)

I realized in all my dreaming

    that I was neglecting what was in front of me

In my quest to make a difference in the world

    (once my boys are older)

        I'm abdicating my role in training them now, for the world

Instead of pausing to pray for my Chinese students by name

    during the countdown until class time,

        I'm too busy clicking around on whatever glittery thing grabs my attention on the Internet

I want to be like Nehemiah

    and lead the charge in rebuilding the wall

But, for now, 

    He's called me to be like Zadok

        who repaired the wall opposite his own house

    He's called me to be like the guards

        posted in front of their own homes

He's not asking me to go BIG

    but to go small,

        to go deep

          to be present in the ordinary

Faithful to the mundane tasks in front of me

Faithful to the people in front of me (in person or through a screen)

Faithful to the requests He brings to my mind to pray for 

Faithful to the one section of wall in front of me

    even if it doesn't feel significant

    even if it doesn't lead to a great harvest

    even if I never know how He chooses to ripple my faithfulness

He's not asking me to be significant or successful

He's asking me to be faithful

(This precious boy is part of the "wall" in front of me)

     

Lexington Parks - Garden Springs ("Children ought to learn manners" vs. "Let the kids play")

(Unintelligible grumbling)

As she and her dog got closer, 

    (but still more than six feet away, of course)

        I realized that her grumblings 

            were directed at my boys

        who had just jumped down from a park sign

            and onto an area where she had planted flower bulbs

                with. her. own. money.

"Can't they climb on a jungle gym instead?"

    (gesturing toward nearby playground)

"We haven't touched a playground since March,

    and we're just trying to make the best of things."

I tried to stay positive and friendly,

    while I apologized and wished the best for her future flowers

        "I'm sorry." 

        "We won't do it again." 

        "I hope your flowers turn out well," 

            I said with a genuine smile

As I walked away

    to catch up with my rowdy, far-down-the-path boys

        I heard her mutter (to herself or to me?)

            "Children ought to learn manners."

                And I didn't know

                    whether to feel utterly ashamed

                                        or unfairly accused

                    Should I scold my children

                        for not showing respect for a wintry flower bed

                    or defend my children

                        for being wild at heart?

It reminds me of a frequent phrase

    I heard growing up:

        "No running in God's house."

    The "house" they were referring to was the sanctuary of our church,

        and I remember, as a rowdy kid,

            facing the same dilemma:

                Should I view this room as reserved only for pious worship

                    or is there room in this room for laughter and games of tag?

                Should I climb the sign and jump on the flower bed

                    or restrain myself and tiptoe around?

                Reverence

                    or revelry?

And even now, 

    I can imagine that the Jesus who said,

        "Let the little children come to Me"        

            might just be running between the pews 

                            and skipping around His "house"

                                   with

                                     us

But as soon as I felt justified

    about my approach of "Let the kids play,"

        I realized that there is some truth to

            "Children ought to learn manners."

Of course, I want our boys to be respectful

    toward people and property

As with so many things in life

    there's a balance -- a time and a place for both

        revelry in a way that shows respect

        manners in a way that leaves room for merriment

JESUS, help me find a way

    to allow for both play and respect

    to train without scolding

    to correct without...

        (unintelligible grumbling)

(poem written on 12-6-20)

Garden Springs Park - We've been to this park a handful of times before but only to the playground, which is part of Garden Springs Elementary. Since we are avoiding playgrounds altogether (which makes it easier it easier to explain to the 2-year-old), we went straight to the paved trail that led to... 

hills... 

(they can't resist rolling down. I used to, but now I get too dizzy!)

a baseball field...

There was a dog inside the fence (Calvin only likes them when he can watch them from a safe distance behind a fence) that kept jumping to catch a frisbee. 

a bike rack...

(Our boys have always loved these. I still remember little Carter's voice narrating "Over...Under" as he climbed on it.

...and chickens! We followed the sound of the mid-day rooster, and the boys loved trying to get the roosters to respond to them.

I love how easily entertained they are. Hills, bike racks, baseball fields, and chickens are enough to make them happy! We love our backyard, but it's nice to have a change of scenery.

(Note: We have visited 30+ parks in Lexington since the beginning of Covid. These are not meant to be extensive reviews but more a record of our experiences. Eventually I will add hyperlinks to all the blog entries here)