Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates. Proverbs 31:31
My hands are usually busy, doing one thing or another, and lately I’ve been thinking about how even with the mundane responsibilities that a mama’s, a farmer’s hands have in abundance, my tasks still have deeper meaning. Every action I take bears fruit, of one kind or another. Any sort of labor, done resentfully, carelessly, roughly, bears its own kind of fruit. But the very lowliest of tasks bears eternally valuable fruit when done with the motivation to serve. Our faith is evidenced by our works, James says, and so I refocus daily on how to love my neighbors well, how to serve my precious family, how to listen and give my heart in vulnerable transparency to my community. When I’m weak, or at a loss for how to walk forward (as is so often the case), I ask God to give me wisdom, and I follow Jesus’ example. In this kind of service, there’s true joy, and the sort of “fruit” that I absolutely want my “tree” to bear.
“When we believe the Giver of every ordinary moment in our every day is the faithful God who is trustworthy for each next step we take in our daily lives, we have reason to rejoice in the gift of another day.” (from p. 32 Beholding and Becoming by Ruth Chou Simons @gracelaced)
Lamentations 3:22-23 The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.
From Mercies Anew by songwriters Bob Kauflin and Mark Altrogge @sovgracemusic:
Every morning that breaks There are mercies anew Every breath that I take Is your faithfulness proved And at the end of each day When my labors are through I will sing of Your mercies anew And Your mercies, they will never end For ten thousand years they’ll remain And when this world’s beauty has passed away Your mercies will be unchanged
Right now, I’m making our 2020 field map, and I just realized that it’s become a miniature reflection of the larger change in my heart and life. {It’s also fascinating to me that this field plan will become a macro reflection of my heart when all the acres are blooming in a few months, completely “larger than life!”}
Because I’m committed to less frenzy, less hustle for the adrenaline rush of it, less straining for more activity, and am intent on cultivating a more restful home, a more restorative, refreshing oasis here at the farm, and a focus on what *really* matters, my farm plan reflects all of this.
Have you noticed how much a purposeful heart-mission instructs your daily living? And if you don’t have a mindset that’s intentionally directed, have you noticed that your daily living is quickly scattered, fragmented, and frustrating? It works in both directions.
When my main focus was to build the business by throwing everything at the wall to see what “stuck,” to burn as brightly as quickly as possible, and I was willing to sacrifice my health, self-care, relationships and so much more in order to work longer/harder…. I did have a mission. But it wasn’t a healthy one! Its out-working was frantic, hustling, addictively rushed.
Now, by God’s grace, my mission is to share beauty. And I can’t rush it. I have repair work to do in so many areas, and at the same time, Steve and I are building something new together so that we can gently and wisely live in a way that is still full but also restoring. We choose hospitality and listening and yes hard work— but work with a deeper purpose. We desperately want to share the beautiful story God’s giving us through the beauty of our farm. Will you follow along to see how we will accomplish that this year, and rally beside us by praying for us as we grow in grace? We also plan to announce opportunities soon for those of you who are interested in coming by this summer to help or even just to see what we’re growing.
A new dawn, a new decade rises, full of possibility. As I walk into it, my eyes are on my Savior who makes all things new. He’s my friend, my shepherd, my father, my redeemer, my hope-giver, and I run to him in the joys and the sorrows of life.
In 2020 I intend to walk more purposefully, running to him more frequently, not relying on my grit or determination or strength or wits, but first running to *him.*
Do you know this beautiful hymn by Chris Anderson? We sang together tonight before tucking in the little one, after games and sweets. The dog curled up by my feet, and all the most precious voices in my life lifted up songs of our faith. We finished with this one, and I can’t think of a better way to usher in the new year. My best to you!
I run to Christ when chased by fear and find a refuge sure. “Believe in me,” His voice I hear; His words and wounds secure. I run to Christ when torn by grief and find abundant peace. “I too had tears,” He gently speaks; Thus joy and sorrow meet.
I run to Christ when worn by life and find my soul refreshed. “Come unto Me,” He calls thu strife; fatigue gives way to rest. I run to Christ when vexed by hell and find a mighty arm. “The Devil flees,” the Scriptures tell; He roars, but cannot harm.
I run to Christ when stalked by sin and find a sure escape. “Deliver me,” I cry to Him; temptation yields to grace. I run to Christ when plagued by shame and find my one defense. “I bore God’s wrath,” He pleads my case—my Advocate and Friend.
It’s a rhythm to many of our lives: mid-holiday season, at the bottom of the year, we ponder the past 12 months. We plan the next 12 months.
For me, the hopes and dreams for our farm life, our family life, our marriage, our farm crew, special friendships, and the lovely community we’re so blessed to share beauty with are all pressing in. My heart is FULL of longing to deepen the ways I share beauty with each of these relationships, and it takes careful discipline to consider each separately, make an action plan for each, and not allow the overwhelm to creep in. I’m begging God for wisdom as we walk through this year, with *completely exciting* plans for improved and new ways we are opening our hearts and our farm to share the beauty with you all.
In these next few weeks, Steve and I are finalizing plans for our flower farm workshop offerings in 2020. I’ve taught so many workshops under a tent, on the porch, in the field, under the trees, and in high tunnels, even in my kitchen (scroll down to see some choice set-ups)… but never in our farming career have I had a dedicated workspace for them. To kick off the new decade, it looks like we’re going to be able to drastically expand our workshop offerings because my workspace dreams may be coming true!! I’m completely beside myself! Stay tuned for announcements in late January, and hold your breath with me as we see what opportunities really unfold. I feel almost as though we’re right on the precipice of an unexpected breakthrough to understanding the real reason behind why Triple Wren exists, and it’s truly a breathtaking, exhilarating, even *terrifying* sensation.
Please keep following our story to see what happens. We can’t wait to continue on this adventure, and it wouldn’t be nearly as fun without you!
In this season of expectation, when we look forward to celebrating the joy of Jesus’ birth, I often think about how much advent is about *longing.* And I believe I it resonates with us, because we’re all already so filled with longing. We’re waiting for all the wrong to be made right.
It’s the theme to every good, deep story, the backdrop to our most painful, personal heartbreaks and losses. We need healing in a million ways and we’re waiting for it.
We’re waiting for relief, for the joy, and it doesn’t always come right away. We can look forward to the joy (it’s really coming). But also we can hold hurting ones close while we wait for it together (sometimes it’s the only way to make it through).
The weary world groans, longing for redemption, and we also groan, waiting, growing in patience, for Jesus to finish his perfect work in us. (Romans 8:22-25)
Son of Adam, Son of heaven, Given as a ransom; Reconciling God and man, Christ, our mighty champion! What a Savior! What a Friend! What a glorious mystery! Once a babe in Bethlehem, Now the Lord of history.
I hung our 2020 flower farm calendar by the tree tonight for a bit, and flipped it to December. Every single day in it is blank, still fresh and untouched, full of promise and potential. It’s a far cry from our packed 2019 December calendar, and it makes me feel like the ghost of Christmas future is here with me in the farmhouse tonight. Right now, the fire is crackling, our favorite ginger snaps are baking (get the best recipe from @sinclairandmoore!), @andrewpetersonmusic is playing, my kids are resting, and everything is warm and peaceful.
I want to bottle up this feeling and keep it close to my heart all year long, to remember how the simplest things matter the most. I want to remember that hustle isn’t always a worthy trade for rest, and that relationships matter more than accomplishments.
As I walk through the New Year, begin the new decade, and march inexorably towards this still-future December, I’d like to imagine my future self standing here again, with a feeling of satisfaction after a year of keeping the main things the main thing. It’s a real possibility, if I approach each day humbly, filling each of the now-open squares intentionally instead of “reactionarily.” What are your plans for filling your 2020? I plan on hard work, grit, determination, and lots of beauty-sharing per usual, BUT I also purpose to temper it with plenty of rest, generosity, and beauty-intake.
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