Once upon a Monday morning...

Monday mornings always strike me as a good time to start something new. You see, I've had a blank blog staring at me for two days now. But Monday struck in it's faithful fashion, and I at last find myself with the courage to begin.

I live on a little 25 acre farm, in a 94 year old house, with a rapidly aging barn, and a very full, very loud, and noisy chicken coop. My first seven years were spent in a rather large city. When we left behind our home in the suburbs, we knew absolutely nothing about what we were getting into.

Twelve years have passed since that fateful day... Twelve memorable, wonderful years. Twelve crazy, stressful years. A life I've summed up in two words. Goodness and Mayhem.

The goodness is obvious. Sunrise on a foggy morning. Four smiling dogs that each have their own job [and they are actually doing them]. A little fat fluffy pea-green parrot named Pollyanna that says "I love you" in the most endearing bird voice you've ever heard. The wonder of each tiny new little lamb. The breathless feeling I always get when they take that first little gasp of air, and that first little lambie cry, that is so strong it amazes me, and so like a newborn baby it brings tears to my eyes every time. Even if it is lamb #25 of the year...

Then, there are the moments. The day happy little Pollyanna escaped her confinements and chased a group of screaming children through the house. [I have to admit, I was rather terrified myself.] [Yes, we re-clipped her wing feathers that very night...] There was the time we looked out the window to discover a scene of our 90 year-old neighbor lady attempting to shoo our cow out of her rose bed with a broom... The day Amelia the sheep decided to have triplets when it was 14 below zero. One of them happened to be such a tiny helpless little girl, she had to come inside and live with us. For a month. We named her Amberina, fed her bottles, changed her diapers, and; took her to church... [yes, we did]. Those are the days, months, moments - that make up my own little personal definition for the word. Mayhem. A very benign form of havoc, chaos, and - sometimes destruction... that is perhaps unique to us. It's what my memories are made of. The kind that make me smile later. [Sometimes much later.]

Perhaps you'll laugh, perhaps you'll groan - I don't know. But if you care to join me, that's a taste of what you're in for. Along with a little art, a little knitting, and I dare say, lots and lots of testimonies of my wonderful Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ - Who sustains me with His goodness - in the midst of the mayhem.