Bird Nests & Bad Attitudes: What I Learned in April

Today I’m linking up with Emily Freeman and some other bloggers, and we’re sharing what we learned during the past month of our lives, from the minuscule to the monumental. Here's what I learned in April:

1. Not everything in the news is bad news.

Every once in awhile the doom and gloom that is today’s news is broken by a ray of happiness, like this story: “Midwife rides inflatable swan through flood to deliver baby.” How happy is that?

2. Fixer Upper fixes me right up.

New episodes of Fixer Upper arrived to Netflix this month…and my husband rejoiced!...because even the worst wifey mood can be improved if we just watch Chip and Joanna “widen that opening,” “paint the brick,” “take the cabinets all the way up to the ceiling,” and “add some recessed lighting.”

3. Kansas has a National Preserve.

I know, right? The Tallgrass Prairie is located in East Central Kansas and is home to a bison herd. The hubs and I enjoyed singing “Home on the Range” while we hiked among the buffalo.

4. Bad attitudes are ugly.

I recently overheard a mature, Christian person giving a bad attitude rant about mostly #firstworldproblems, and it was ugly. I didn’t have half a second to look down my nose at them, though, because their words instantly brought into sharp focus the ugliness of my own bad attitudes.  Real heartache should be grieved and shared—that’s not what we’re talking about here. I’m talking about car trouble, bad hair days, and my dinner not cooking as fast as I’d like. Lord, help me to get some perspective, get a life, and remember that I’m a child of God, eternally secure and immeasurably blessed.

5. I need old friends.

I’ve only lived in my current town for a year and a half, so most of my day-to-day relationships are relatively new ones. I love these new friends and am excited to get to know them better. But a girls weekend in Tulsa with three of my long-time besties reminded me why I love and need old friends too: they already know me, and they’re still here anyway. I don’t need to explain to them that yes, I’d like more guacamole, and no, I didn’t set out to say that inappropriate thing because I don’t even know what that means. They know. And they accept me. Kind of like Jesus.

6. Country music gives voice to my feelings.

Dan + Shay’s new single “From the Ground Up” captures perfectly how I feel about my farmer husband, our marriage, the family heritage with which we’ve been blessed, and our big dreams for the future. All the feels.

7. Miracles happen all the time.

Some girlfriends and I went to see Jennifer Garner’s recent based-on-a-true-story movie, Miracles from Heaven. Tear-jerkers like this one aren’t usually my jam, but I loved it, particularly its message that miracles—big and small—happen all the time; we simply need to have the eyes to see them. Even better than the movie was the discussion my friends and I had afterwards about the miracles we’ve seen in our own lives, like how God intentionally comforted my friend’s family after the tragic loss of her brother. These off-camera miracles are the ones that fortify my belief.

8. You can’t stop a bird from flying over your deck, but you can keep it from building a nest in your grill.

This lesson I learned secondhand, thanks to the firsthand experience of my dad, who you’ll see is both hilarious and innovative. Several weeks ago he stepped out onto his deck to grill some hot dogs for dinner. When he opened the grill, this is what he found:

After removing the nest, he had to find some way of preventing the determined birds from coming back to their cozy spot, so this is what he came up with:

The owl does double-duty by preventing the return of the birds and causing passersby to do a double-take, which amuses my dad.

 9. Administrative Professionals Day is a fabulous thing.

Who knew this was a thing? Not me. I typically pay zero attention to all those random days listed in my calendar. But I’m telling you, I felt like it was my birthday at my workplace this week on Administrative Professionals Day. Though the treats, kind words, and professional massage (I know, right?) were awesome, what stands out to me here is people celebrating people, intentionally finding ways to say what you do matters and I appreciate you. I want to celebrate people like that too.

10. I want a big pantry.

Greg and I toured some model homes in our area to get some inspiration for our current and future residences. We saw stone fireplaces, Jacuzzi tubs, and all manner of lovely features, but I couldn’t stop drooling over big pantries. I guess my current allotment of two and a half small cabinets of pantry space isn’t cutting it. Let’s be honest, this is totally a #firstworldproblem. But that big pantry is still on my wish list.

Find out what other bloggers learned in April here. What did you learn in April?

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The Wrong Party

'Tis the season for graduations and parties. Each year around this time I reflect upon an experience I had several years ago. Read about it from my fresh, day-old perspective:

Last night I went to a party at a friend’s house. I’ve never been to her house before, so she texted me directions. When I came to the end of the cul-de-sac per her instructions, I had some trouble locating house numbers. However, I came upon a driveway lined with cars, house with front door open, people visible through an upstairs window—obviously this was the place.

This is sort of a new friend, but I knew she wouldn’t have me stand on formality, so I confidently opened the front door, went inside the house, and marched right up the stairs towards the sound of voices. I was a little surprised when the first room of people I encountered consisted of mostly middle-aged men. I had no idea what kind of crowd to expect at my friend’s party, but I felt like I was remembering correctly that she had said this would be a girls night. I excused myself to slip between two people standing in the doorway in order to see everyone in the room, about twelve people. No sign of my friend, but I did notice that one of the men was wearing a graduation cap. Apparently we’d have multiple celebrations going on under one roof--how nice! I left that room and poked my head into another room, where several women sat talking. Still no sign of my friend.

It was then I noticed that the first room had grown rather quiet yet seemed to be whispering about something. All of a sudden it dawned on me: I was in the wrong house at the wrong party.

Since the joke was already on me, I decided to embrace the awkwardness of this situation, so I stepped back into the middle of the first room and announced, “I am at the wrong party.” They stared at me for a second, unsure how to respond, and then burst into hysterical laughter. I looked at the man in the cap, said, “Congratulations on your graduation! Great party,” gave him the double guns, and walked out of the room.

As I went back down the stairs, one of the men yelled at me, “Would you like to stay and have a sandwich?” Another said, “If anything turns up missing, we’ll know who took it!” They were howling with laughter, and I laughed pretty hard myself during the walk of shame to my friend’s house.

The right party enjoyed hearing my story almost as much as the wrong party enjoyed witnessing it, and now you’re enjoying my story, so I guess I’m willing to sacrifice my pride for your amusement. I’m sure it won’t be the last time.

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Hi, My Name Is Rachel, and I Laugh at Inappropriate Times

I’ve noticed something disconcerting about myself: I laugh at inappropriate times, and I can’t even help myself.

Last evening as we were preparing to enjoy a walk around the pond in our neighborhood, I asked my handy husband to take a look at our mailbox. It had become warped and nearly impossible to open due to a recent ice storm and subsequent death-blow dealt by our annoyed mail carrier who was clearly so over these frozen-shut mailboxes. (I don’t blame him.) Hubby wrestled with it for a bit, as I had done earlier in the day, only his scuffle ended in a cry of pain, a furious glare at the offending mailbox, and blood. He immediately took off walking at a brisk pace to release some angry energy. I caught up with him and took a look at his bleeding thumb…and then I laughed. Out loud. I became the next recipient of an enraged glare.

You don’t need me to spell out for you that laughing at your husband’s pain does not, in fact, foster marital bliss. You might, however, need me to assure you that I’m normally a sensitive, considerate, and empathetic person. Why, then, are situations like this just so darn funny sometimes?

I’m tempted to blame it on my mother. When I was a little kid, she would regularly make me eat prunes in order to—how do I say it?—make me regular. I hated those nasty things; they tasted bad, and their texture was even worse. So I’d inevitably start gagging, which Mom thought was hilarious. She’d start laughing, which prompted my six year-old self to get mad and run out of the room. This whole scene was not nearly as amusing to my dad, which ironically seemed to make the whole thing more amusing to my mom. We repeated this entire spectacle weekly for about ten years. (Don’t worry; my parents are loving and compassionate people, and we all have a great relationship now. I even eat in front of them...everything except prunes, that is.)

I don’t actually think that my tendency to laugh at inappropriate times is due to unresolved mommy issues. (You’re off the hook this time, Mom.) I do believe, however, that in tense situations the brain seeks relief, and for some of us oh-so-fortunate individuals, this frequently spills over into nervous laughter…in the face of our not-so-fortunate loved ones who aren’t sure how we can be so nice normally and yet so maniacally amused by their agony occasionally. Consider another similar instance that happened recently:

I was cleaning the bathroom while my husband was in the kitchen slicing sweet potatoes into fries. I heard an exclamation of pain, followed by yelling for me to bring a bandage. In my brief dash to him, I mentally prepared myself to secure a temporary dressing on his hand, load him into the car, and place the portion of the finger he’d cut off into a baggie and then put that into a cooler to take with us to the ER…because these situations are not unheard of, and I’m a farm wife, and this is what we do. When I saw that he was still in one piece, though with a deep gash in one finger, you guessed it…I laughed. Hubby once again didn’t see the humor.

Laughing at inappropriate times isn’t limited to tense situations caused by someone’s physical discomfort. Another trigger for me is being on stage. Go with me for a moment to my sophomore year of college. I was standing at the front of a crowded banquet hall with several other students. We were being inducted into an honor society, and we were holding lit candles while we listened to a professor talk about the rich tradition of academic excellence of the society, etc. etc. Maybe it was the crowd, or maybe it was the flashbacks I was having to burning my fingers on hot wax at Christmas Eve church services past. (Those cardboard drip-catchers are worthless.) In any case, I was feeling a bit anxious. I was handed a lapel pin, and the prof began to explain that at campuses across the country new inductees would wear their pins proudly for a full week to identify with other members of the hallowed society, crossing the normal social boundaries of campus culture. It was too much for me. I laughed—one of those laughs that sort of bursts out of your nose because you’re trying so hard not to make any noise. Everyone heard, and everyone looked at me, and I was horrified. But come on. This was the 21st Century, and I was not going to wear that lapel pin on my t-shirts for a week. This college girl had an image to maintain, for heaven’s sake.

There’s simply not enough time to elaborate on all the other occasions in which I’ve laughed at inappropriate times, like the time a gleeful tail-wagging dachshund raced past a solemn wedding ceremony, causing tears to run down this maid of honor’s face. Or the time I took the age-old advice to combat nervousness by imagining the audience in their underwear when I had to speak at a Sunday night prayer meeting—yeah, that didn’t go as planned… I wasn’t nervous anymore! I just couldn’t stop giggling long enough to offer a coherent thought at the microphone.

Whatever the situation, it’s simply a fact that something that’s funny under normal circumstances is ten times funnier when you should not laugh. If you suffer from the same particular ailment that I do, please know that you’re not alone. And if you suffer from being in close relationship with someone like me, please reassure yourself that they love you, they are not in fact making fun of you, and if you just give them a moment, they’ll get right back to being understanding and serious.

Have you ever laughed at an inappropriate time? Tell me about it in the comments!

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Decide: Taking Back My Feelings

The path of life is a complex one, with twists and turns and many roads we’d rather not take, particularly when it comes to our feelings. The signposts on those roads read “bitterness,” “jealousy,” “fear,” and the like.

I’ve tended to view those feelings as non-optional, as if someone who hurt me or a situation that disappointed me gave me a big shove down one of those roads, and all I could do was walk forward on it. However, I’ve realized that’s the mentality of a victim, and I’d like to believe I’m not the victim of my story but rather the heroine.

Perhaps a more helpful analogy is this: when one of those difficult circumstances happens, it forces me to come to a crossroads. My initial emotional response may indeed be non-optional, as some things are just really hard, and I’m a human, not a robot. But as for which feeling I continue to walk in, that I get to decide.

If I’ve been hurt, the “anger” road, for instance, will certainly be easier to take than the one towards peace, which will be an uphill climb. But I still get to decide which way to go.

This isn’t a one-time decision, by the way. That situation may cross my mind one hundred times in a day, giving me one hundred opportunities to move towards either anger or peace.

Though the process may not be easy, engaging with it might just change everything.

What will you decide?

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Alive

When in your life have you felt most alive? For me times like these come to mind: finding out how fast my jet ski could go in beautiful Ozark lake country, learning to lope for the first time during my childhood horseback riding lessons, skiing above the tree-line along a snowy ridge in Colorado, and floating in huge ocean swells in Mexico.

These experiences have some common denominators—a bit of risk, an element of being outside of myself, and the requirement that I give up some control and surrender to something bigger—the lake, the horse, the mountain, the waves. I guide the horse and move my body to direct my skis, sure, but there are about 57 things that could go wrong in each of these scenarios, and if I think I’m the one holding it all together, I’m deluded.

In a similar fashion spiritual “aliveness”—what Easter is all about—comes from surrender. I do nothing to achieve my own spiritual vitality—it’s all God. I can’t control anything about the process with bad or good works, and the result is vivacity, freedom, and elation that puts even the best earthly thrill-seeking to shame.

“But because of His great love for us, God, Who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” Ephesians 2:4-5

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Delighted to Share

I’m doing another Five Minute Friday free write today, and our prompt is the word share. Here we go!

Growing up in church I got the idea that “ministry” was a specific category of activities such as verbally sharing the Gospel or leading a Bible study. In college I began to volunteer with a parachurch youth ministry whose guiding Scripture was 1 Thessalonians 2:8, which says, “We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the Gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us.”

I was entrusted with a group of several middle school girls with which to do Bible study, but I was also encouraged to “do life” with them. Over the course of several years God gave me a deep love for these sweet and energetic girls as I taught them the Word and prayed for them but also participated in sleepovers and picnics, tennis matches and choir concerts.

Meanwhile the parents of these girls either consciously or subconsciously adopted this same philosophy of relational ministry with me. They told me about what God had done in their lives—not through any kind of formal discipleship program but rather on walks, over coffee, and on their porch swings. I will be forever changed by the powerful ministry that occurred through my relationships with both the girls and their parents.

Imagine my sheepish surprise when I realized that this “new” way of doing ministry is exactly what Jesus did on earth! He preached and performed miracles, of course, but He also gathered a small group of friends around Him—the disciples—and He lived life with them. They ate, fished, and traveled together. Judging by the way the disciples later radically devoted their entire lives to spreading the Gospel even while experiencing persecution, I’d say His ministry method was successful, and I believe this type of relational ministry packs a similar punch today.

Want to do “ministry?” Share the Gospel, and share your life.

Has anyone "shared the Gospel" with you by sharing their life with you? I'd love to hear about it!

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Morning

Today I'm participating in Five Minute Friday, a free write link-up hosted by Kate Motaung. Here are my brief thoughts on the topic of morning:

No one who’s ever lived with me would describe me as a morning person. Those who have worked with me might—but that’s because by the time they interacted with me, I was sufficiently caffeinated.

My sweet husband brings my coffee in bed. This started as a “deal” we made—I’d make his lunch and get the dinner prep dishes done before he got home from work, meaning we'd have more time to spend together in the evenings; in turn he’d bring me coffee the next morning. I still do those things for him most days, but he still brings me coffee every day...no matter how pleasant or unpleasant I was to him the previous day.

The consistency of this little blessing—which is actually a big deal if you understand my need for caffeine—reminds me that God’s mercies are new every morning too (Lamentations 3:22-23). No matter what happened in the world the day before, and no matter how cranky I was, ironically complaining about my life of rich blessing, God offers me new mercy each and every day! Mercy to start over, mercy to choose a new attitude, mercy to walk with Him. And like my coffee wakes me up and energizes my mind to tackle the day, His mercy infuses me with hope and excitement to see what He has in store for me.

What does morning mean to you?

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What My County Needs

If you’d have asked me two weeks ago what my county needs, I’d have said, “A Target, a Panera, and a Starbucks.” Sometimes life sails along smoothly and deceives me into thinking my deepest needs are for clearance clothing and Caramel Macchiatos.

But today my heart is heavy because of two devastating recent events that have reminded me that I and we are deeply needy—and for things that money can’t buy and a barista can’t pour into a cup. Two weeks ago a well-known, respected, and good couple in our community was arrested for allegedly abusing the children they adopted from another country. Several days ago a gunman opened fire at a local industry, killing several, wounding many, and terrifying many more.

I know people who are close to both of these tragic situations, but I don’t pretend to know the depth of their horror, confusion, and pain. Certainly times like these call into question the people we thought we knew and perhaps even more the God who allowed this. If You’re good, how could You let this happen? Why?

As valid as these questions are, our deepest need is not for answers. What, then? Love? Community? What we need most isn’t a what at all but rather a Who. We need Jesus. Jesus is not a Christian cop-out, a grand delusion for our comfort, a genie in a bottle, or a legendary moral teacher. He is a real person, He is alive, He is God, He is in control, and He is the only true hope for a broken world.

Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? I don’t know. This will never make sense to me this side of heaven. But you know what else doesn’t make sense? God loved us while we were spitting in His face and sent Jesus to take part in the human experience. He lived the perfect life we couldn’t and was murdered for our guilt. God brought Him back to life, and now He’s offered to us the unfathomable gift of grace—a relationship with Him, hope, help, comfort, purpose, and eternal life when we die. He is so good to give us this grace, and He has been good to me personally in a million other ways as I’ve journeyed with Him. So I choose to trust Him for salvation and for all the other things that don’t make sense.

Jesus will not take a Magic Eraser to your pain, but He does understand, and He will walk with you through it, comforting you and never leaving you. He loves you, He died for you, and He wants to be with you for the joys and heartaches of your life—no matter who you are or what you’ve done. My words are honest but imperfect, so I’d love it if you’d go from here to the pages of the Bible because it’s flawless. The book of John is a great place to start. Jesus will meet you there.

“God showed how much He loved us by sending His one and only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through Him. This is real love—not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins.” 1 John 4:9-10

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Farm Women Blogs

Several weeks ago I tagged along with an aunt-in-law and two cousins-in-law to a Women Managing the Farm conference. We enjoyed keynote presentations on the inspiring history of Kansas farm women and how to engage the culture-wide conversation on GMO's and other hot topics in ag in a way that diffuses conflict rather than escalates it. Other highlights included breakout sessions on cattle handling techniques that use less muscle, vision-planning for the farm, and marketing to millennial consumers.

The conference gave me an unexpected treat in connecting me with four amazing women who farm in Kansas and are telling their stories through blogs. I'm loving their content, and I think you will too. Won't you check them out?

Willow Springs Farm

Hannah is a first-generation farmer who produces quality grass-fed beef from her cattle operation near the Flint Hills.

 

Tales of A Kansas Farm Mom

Nicole shares about everything from farming with kids to recipes to a feature I particularly enjoy called "Flat Aggie."

 

Farming Grace Daily

Julie's honest and encouraging voice is refreshing as she weaves together farm life, faith, and everything in between.

 

Chef Alli's Farm Fresh Kitchen

Alli is on a mission to help people understand where their food comes from, and her recipes are both delicious and practical.

 

Let me know what you think of my new friends, and happy reading!

 

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