Where've You Been All My Life?

It's funny.

A writer goes and gets a new blog and in the meantime her kids grow up.

It's not as cute to post the cute things they say when the "they" is twelve.

A line gets crossed.

And it happens quietly. Gradually. Softly.

So I just haven't posted.

Except on my writer's page.

I miss this over there though.

Been a long time since I've come to visit here.

I keep telling myself my kids will soon take over. As mature as they are and all...

But in the meantime...this poor old site just sits lonely.

So I came to visit.

Maybe I'll try and post a few pics here and there.

My mama would sure love that.

Two blogs are hard to maintain...

...but I'll try to stop by round here more often than I have.

And for now...

...feels like a cozy visit back home.

First day of school. It's all about Pinterest round here.

 

Workin the new schedule. So far....so good.

Trip into town going the back road? That equates for one.happy.boy.

Fell into a patch of wild blueberries. One.happy.Mama.

 

Autumn in our neck of the woods...

...we were wishin' for a bull. But this mama had a calf.

 

 

 

Two Timin'

Because my mother sweetly asked me, "will there be baby pictures on the blog soon?", and because over break I commandeered a stuffed-with-junk closet and made it into my very own writer's nook, and because I've been sinking into the world of words a little more often....

...{{gulp}} I started my own blog.

It's not like I moved out.

I just set up my own room.

Hung some wallpaper.

Redecorated a little.

I still live here.

And I'm fixin to put my kids on this here site once I can make em quit looking and our funny family pictures and readin mama's funny writin long enough.

We'll put more baby pics up Ma.

But come on over and visit me at the writin page too :)

Happy New Year bloggy friends.

We love you, each and every one.

The Rankin Crew

 

http://thiscrazylittlefarm.wordpress.com/

My People

(copyright Cassandra Rankin)

 

It’s rare for him to lie down.

Especially in the winter.

It was our fault naturally. We couldn’t provide a good enough place for him to live. We had no idea what we were doing. If we were better at this, he’d be lying down resting and cozy all the time. Just like on the movies. But, we were inadequate and couldn’t provide him a place to be restful and cozy so therefore, he’d just always be cold.

And standing. Swaying on his feet at naptime rather than lying down for a full rest.

It was different today though.  

Today when I pulled in the driveway, he was down. Not quite flat but curled up, cozy. I stopped the truck to survey. Was he hurt? Had he injured himself? Why was he down? He never lies down…

“Gracie have you seen Beau lay down recently?”

She knows his habits well.

 

“No, not really. Except for a couple weeks ago.”

 

What had happened a couple weeks ago?

 

“I put Charlotte in with him for the day.”

 

There I had it. Today, circling him, fussing over him, were his loved ones. Close by, within reach and keeping him company.

 

He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t sick. He was simply comfortable in the presence of those who knew him best. He was among them and this allowed him to be completely content and relaxed enough to lie down.

 

He was happy. He was at ease. He was 100% himself.

 

He was with his people.

Er, his mares.

We learned today, our Beau, our sweet and mellow boy pony, is most at ease when he has his friends right next to him. It’s not a matter of mating, he’s gelded. But they are like him and they like him. They all know one another. And in their company, he is completely relaxed.

 

He is himself when he is with them.
 

He is loved.

 

And he is accepted.

 

They are his people.

 

So when I answer the phone and it’s my husband and he wants to know where we’re at, I tell him. We’re at the grocery store.

 

Just pulling in, I’ll call you back when I finish okay?

 

As I finish up, I remember to call him and dial as I pull out, heading toward my next errand.
 

“I thought you were at the Safeway.”

 

It’d just been a short stop, I explained. How was your day?

 

“Oh. Well, I’m here in the parking lot. I just thought I’d drop in and see you guys on my way back to the office.”

 

I’m miles down the road by now. The store I’m heading to closes in an hour. It’s my last stop of the day.

 

Why didn’t you tell me?

 

I’m frustrated, wishing I could’ve seen him.
 

I didn’t know. You need to communicate these things to me. We would’ve stayed if we would’ve known. How come you just didn’t tell me?

 

He didn’t think of it. We were at the store, he was just going to stop in for a minute. Just to see us. Give us a hug. Say hi.

 

Irritation fills the cab of my truck.

 

“Well, it’s okay. I’ll see you tonight.”
 

I scolded him a bit.  

 

He had to get back to work.

 

The I love yous and see you tonights fall flat.

 

And as I drive, it hit me.
 

He just wanted to be cozy for a minute.

 

Wanted to take a moment out of the drain of the work day and be with the ones who love him most. To soak up the feeling of being loved… being accepted…and to let it refresh him for the rest of his day. He wanted to curl his spirit right up for a minute and be relaxed, known…

 

…himself.
 

He just wanted to be with his people.

 

There are people that we know so well, they are only their very true self when they are with us.
 

And what about our Lord? Doesn’t God know us just like that? Even better than that?

 

Not even a sparrow, worth only half a penny, can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are more valuable to him than a whole flock of sparrows. Matthew 10:29-31

 

We can curl up and be cozy in that kind of being known.

 

We are known.

 

I am known.
 

We are His people.

 

Our farrier told us a horse doesn’t spend a lot of time on the ground in winter. He said when you see a horse lying down for a nap, you can bet that horse is completely relaxed and comfortable.

 

That was our pony today, curled up right in the middle of the hay pile and his two little girlfriends. He was so comfortable, his big little body was plunked right down, at feed time even, and he let his horsey lips tickle the snowy ground while his big brown eyelids drooped. He was sheer comfort. He was perfect content. He was himself. He was whole.

 

It’s not our inadequacy that keeps him from lying down. It’s not our lack of a perfectly sized heated facility. It’s not our lack of horsemanship that keeps him on his feet come naptime.

 

He just needs to be with those who know him best.

 

I call my husband back, tell him I’m sorry I forgot to call him earlier.

 

I’ve removed all irritation from my voice.
 

I was too rushed. I really would’ve loved to have seen him.

 

“It’s okay. I should’ve let you know. I guess I just wanted to see you guys.”

 

Over the cell we patch it up.
 

The I love you is sincere, all shortness is gone.

 

I’m sorry I scolded you, I tell him.
 

“It’s okay babe.”

 

My big strong husband forgives me, assures me he’s not upset.
 

Says he should’ve told me he was heading our way, coming to where we were.

 

He just didn’t think of it.
 

He was just going to stop in for a minute.

 

He just wanted to see his people.

 

God sets the lonely in families…Psalm 68:6

 

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

c Cassandra Rankin
 

Who am I? 

 

My daughter asked me that a few weeks ago and I was transported. Back to when I was her age, a little older, twelve, maybe thirteen.

 

I didn’t have friends so I hung out behind the gas station. I’d learned how to skip band every day in this new school, this town of so many thousands. So I wrote. And I smoked. I drank my Coca Cola Classic purchased so carefully and mindfully out of the vending machine with the weekly soda money I kept in the pocket of my brown leather bomber jacket. If I bought one the first hour and then one the second hour, I could have two cans of pop each school day. A perfect lunch for a wayward freshman.

 

I pretended not to be lonely.

 

But one day when I used the restroom there at the gas station where the attendants had come to know my face so well, I realized it. I was lonely.

 

And I didn’t know who I was.

 

The cold white painted cinderblock bounced around the winter light in a dreary, shadowy kind of way and there in the metal-framed mirror over the sink, I saw the face I’d always known, brown hair, hazel eyes, funny mole over the top lip. But on that day, that face, it looked strange and alien. It looked like one I’d never seen before, never met.

 

Who was I?

 

She was pretty enough I suppose. But where was “I”? Where was the me that thinks and reasons and writes and talks? Was she that face there in the mirror? And if not, where was she? And where did the face there in the mirror fit in? Who was I? Who am I?

 

I stood there a long half hour. The attendants, they were used to me. Funny how they never asked any questions about the lonely loner girl who hung out there at their Amoco station and pretended to be grown-up with her Newports and her novels. But they never once told me to move along or asked why I wasn’t in school. They let me use their long pipe out back as a bench, let me feed quarters to their Coke machine, and that day, they let me hang out in their bathroom and try to work out my identity.

 

Who am I?

 

Who are you?

So when my girl asks me, tears on the face that I could draw in my sleep, her brown eyes big and searching, I know just what to tell her. Her growing time has begun and she needs to know who she is because isn’t this world just too big when you look too close into a small mirror?

 

I tell her the things those teenager eyes were searching to find that day in the restroom of my gas station. I string together the words that the metal framed mirror kept locked tight behind its cold stare.

 

I tell her the truth.

 

You are my daughter. You are your Daddy’s princess. You are a sister. You are a granddaughter. You are a friend. You are a leader. You are an example. You are someone’s future wife. You are mommy to one yet to come. You are the precious grandmother to generations not yet born.

 

You are a child of God.

 

You belong to Jesus.

 

And the relief shined warm on the cold bricks of this life.

 

Because when we know who we belong to doesn’t that make it so much easier to be found?

 

When we know whose we are, we know who we are.

 

Like my girl will grow within the safety of this family, learning from her days with siblings, friends, this place, her people, and go out into the world and live the life put before her, making her mark on it in ways that only she can because she is who she is, so we, as children of God, do the same.

 

We rest in the safety of His palm, growing into who we are becoming, following His path in the unique way He has created us to, living the life He puts before us and pointing others to Him as we go.

 

That’s who we are.

 

Do you not realize that Christ Jesus is in you…? (2 Corinthians 13:5)

 

I don’t have to be anything other than what He created me to be and as I do that, I learn more how to do that. And in learning more how to do that, I learn who I am.

 

And the mirror isn’t cold. It’s warm.

 

And it’s not shadowy, it’s light.

 

And there are no cinderblocks, only strong hands with holes and arms stretched wide and His voice reminding, you won’t do it perfect but for today it’s pretty enough.

His voice encouraging, you just need to keep doing what you’re doing and learn and lean a bit more because every day of doing that will firm up in your mind who it is I had in mind when I made you.

 

And then one day we’ll never even have to ask anymore. We’ll be with the mirror and we’ll be in the mirror and we’ll be whole and we’ll be perfect.

 

Until that day, who we are is the reflection of that. The fuzzy almost of who we’re going to be. The clear definitive of who we are now…and new.

 

Until that day it’s our growing time….And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it. And in Him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by His Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:18) (1 Corinthians 12:27) (Ephesians 2:22)

 

It’s our family time…you are fellow citizens with God’s people and members of God’s household. (Ephesians 2:19)

 

It’s our who am I time…we are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed and heirs according to the promise. We are God’s workmanship. (2 Corinthians 5:20) (Galatians 3:29) (Ephesians 2:10)

 

It’s our dying time…I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. (Galatians 2:20)

 

And it’s our loving time…I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wise and long and high and deep is the love of Christ. (Ephesians 3:17)

 

Who are you? Do you know? Who is my daughter? Who am I?

 

There are these…I’m wife to a good man...I’m mother to four kind-hearted children…I’m friend to some...I’m encourager to many...I’m a sinner clinging to the cross of grace.

 

And then there is this. I am someone who knows to whom she belongs. And when I look in that mirror, that One that’s no longer cold, I can tell that girl….I can tell my girl…I can tell my sisters.

 

We know who we are.

 

We are exactly who He made us to be, exactly who He’s growing us into. We are loved. We are cherished. We are held. We are daughters…

 

…daughters of the King.

 

Now I belong to Jesus, Jesus belongs to me!

Not for the years of time alone, but for eternity.

I haven't been keeping close track of sunrise/sunset this year. It's pretty though. And quick :)

Even the piggies are in hibernate mode.

Been cooking a lot. Not sure how this place would stay fed without my cast iron. Some from Grandad and Grannycakes' house, some from my sweet Anita, some from garage sales...I'm sure some of it will make its way into my kiddos' kitchens someday...

Been writing a lot too. I guess that's what we do round here in the winter, cook and write. And read good books of course.  

A big bundle of words....Now. What to do with them?

 

Wasn't he just born?

Wait, weren't they BOTH just born? C asked him "Do you think your're strong enough to take the cart back all by yourself now?" My baby says, "Of course I'm stwong enuf. Every man is stwong. Well, 'cept babies. Babies aren't stwong." Can hardly believe there are TWO future m.e.n. living in this house with me.

"Mama you go start the movie. Me n Dad are just gonna stay here and draw. We're artists."

We broke out the Whoonu box and dusted it off...

...and a couple of us suffered near hernias that Thanksgiving eve.

Life is Messy and Things Aren't Always So Little on this Crazy Little Farm

Life is Messy and Things Aren’t Always So Little on this Crazy Little Farm

Cassandra Rankin

 

“…for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine.”  ~Psalm 50:10-11

 

We’ve had our little farm just three years. Not long in the grand scheme of things. But you’d be amazed what a mama can learn in three years, especially when it comes to animals. And kids of course. An especially poignant day comes to mind when this mama found herself in the surreal situation of stuffing the way-back of her Ford Expedition full to the ceiling before sunup one morning, cages and kennels teetering while she drove through the early morning dark, her children’s faces in the rearview, solemnly brushing the lint off their white fancy shirts, combing their hair and their coon skin caps and quietly practicing their showmanship routine.

 

Guinea pig shows will do that to a family. You see, this raising animals gig ain’t for the faint of heart. I said it after my kids raised the roof and cleaned house with their little pig herd, winning ribbons and prizes and honorable mentions as I just sat bewildered, shaking my head slowly. I told the judge then and I maintain it now, you just never know what road you’re gonna travel once you become a mother.

 

And that’s the way it is with farm life too. We’re little. We have pets on the barnyard, not dairy cows or beef cattle. Our little herd of mini horses and goats are just fun family members who fill our table talk and empty our checking account. We’re not pros, heck we have to pray for strength and fortitude before we even butcher up a few chickens. Big ranchers are tough and strong and get thrown off bulls and cut their hands on barbed wire. We’re what you’d call a much softer, fluffier version of that. Think petting zoo. But not quite as cute. That’s us. With a buncha guinea pigs and a two-toed rooster thrown into the mix.

 

Large scale farmers or not though, we’ve still learned a peck about life from these crazy animals. In fact, I’d venture to say I’ve learned more about life and love and how this whole operation works in the three little years we’ve had this crazy farm than I probably did in all the years before hand. You see, when God made animals, He gave them to us humans to take care of.  And yes, some animals are with us just for companionship and keeping our feet warm at night, and that’s a wonderful thing. But there’s more to it too.

 

The way I figure it, as long as this big old world keeps spinning, and no matter what happens on it, there will always be animals. Always. For friendship, for work, for transportation, for eats. Where there are people, there will be animals. And as long as there are animals, there will always be a need for people who know how to care for them.  So that’s what we’re doing. We’ve set out to learn. We’re learning how to care for animals. And in learning how to care for animals, we’re learning a whole bunch about how to care for people too. These are just a few of the tidbits we’ve garnered:

Life is messy. Farm life isn’t like what we see on t.v. The farms on t.v. have us thinking barns clean themselves, manure evaporates, animals quietly graze on grass all their livelong days and no one ever gets sick. Or when they do, a quick visit from the vet fixes them up lickety split.

 

Life, real life, is messy.

 

And you’ll more than once find yourself standing in a pile of poop, wondering how you got there, and having no other option than to just take your shovel and get after it. But after a few times of mucking, it’ll get to become a little more familiar. It won’t be so alarming after you’ve been through it once or twice. You’ll get better at dealing with the poop. And you might even start to figure out ways to head off big messes. But it’s still going to always be there. In life, there’s poop. You just gotta learn to deal with it.

 

Life is unpredictable. You learn to deal with messes and may even get good at it. But then, in farming, and in life, something’ll get thrown at you that you have no idea where it came from or how to deal with it. The pony will get sick and you’ll find yourself giving him shots in the neck twice a day for two weeks straight even though you can barely calm the shaking in your hands. Or the hedgehog will develop a very sudden onset of Wobbly Hedgehog Syndrome one morning which will force you to ask your husband twelve hours later if he wouldn’t mind just getting it over with by gently sending the poor animal to the hereafter while you and the kids run into town. Things happen that’d you’d never even think of when you woke up in the morning and the older you get, the harder it is to deal with sudden happenings, but the easier it gets too because when it comes down to it, isn’t that real life? Interruptions. Surprises. Messes. Unpredictable.

 

Life needs our attention. When you’ve got critters, you study them close and you study them long. You come to know what an animal needs from you. You understand more than anyone else on earth what they need for food, shelter, routine, training, affection. That animal has specific needs as an individual. You are the person that been commissioned to meet the needs of that critter. If I don’t study the critters on my barnyard, if I don’t know what they need, I’ll wake up one morning to a loose animal, a sick animal or a dead animal. It’s my job to give them my attention.

 

This life needs our attention.
 

Careers, worship, recreation, sports, education…all contain one common thing: people. There are people under my roof I need to study close and I need to study long. They have needs that only I can meet. I’ve been commissioned. I need to know how they learn, what their favorites are, what makes them thrive, what makes them shrivel.

Who needs your attention? Study them close and study them long. Make sure they’re warm and fed and sheltered and that they have your affection. We don’t want our people lost, or sick or spiritually dead.

 

Life needs our commitment. As I write, it is six degrees below zero. Yesterday it was 15 below, the day before 17 below zero. It gets dark at 4:30 p.m. This will go on for months, at least four, usually more like five, depending on our weather pattern. The animals on our barnyard don’t comprehend these details, but they have a keen understanding of when they’re too cold, when their water has frozen solid, when it’s chow time and who brings these things to them. Life isn’t a joy ride. It gets ugly, it gets messy and it gets cold. You have to do it anyway. Because you committed to it and because there are critters, and people, who need you.

 

Take care of the outcasts. Every herd has an outcast. That one who’s never invited in, who tends to stand off alone, sometimes by choice, but most times because they’re driven off.

 

Jesus took care of them. We have to love them. And they’ll love you right back. Forever.

 

My little horse is an outcast. So she eats first on our farm. Every day. She still bristles though when I want to come in close. Her first instinct is to want to run. But when I use my soft voice, and gently reach out to her, she’ll come in close and let me hug her neck. She stands still and her eyes go soft. She’ll blink, almost in puzzlement. Then she’ll sigh. She receives my love. She knows that I love her even though something in her just wants to run. Even though she feels outside of the herd, she knows she is safe with me.

 

I’m an outcast. Somewhere, somehow, aren’t you one too? Don’t we all sometimes feel like we don’t fit? Like we want to bristle? To run? And if you don’t, trust me, someone you know does. We’re walking and talking with folks on this planet every day who’ve been run off, who aren’t invited in, who are just plain scared of the herd. Love them. Jesus told us to. You might help heal their heart. And you’ll both have a friend forever.

 

Kindness usually works.  When an animal is mean, it is usually because it is scared or sick. Sometimes people are mean. They are usually scared or sick too. Don’t be mean back. Kindness usually works.

 

It doesn’t always go the way you’d hope. Death is part of life and even though we hate it, we’ll have to say goodbye to those we love. It will almost break your heart in two to see an animal you’ve loved, tended to, syringe fed, kept hydrated, administered shots to - lying there lifeless, eyes dull, no more movement in their once-strong muscles. It will break your heart in two to see the tears rolling down your children’s chins as they look on that same animal. But it will happen. It’s part of life’s natural process and seeing death in our animals helps us appreciate life with our people all the more.

Life requires help. It might be in the form of getting the sweet neighbor boys to do some work for you, or hiring a babysitter, or someone to mop your floors, or asking your best friend to go for a walk. We aren’t an island and this life wasn’t meant to be solitary and we need people. Especially during the extra messy times. When we try to walk it alone we walk it hard and in the hardness bitter is born. We need help.

 

It takes two. When I carry one bucket I’m a weakling. I slosh the water all over my pant leg and into my boot and bring a half empty haul to the trough. When I carry two I am strong like a teenaged boy and deliver full buckets to the barn. It’s uneven with one. Heavy. Too much to carry. It takes two. It’s balanced with two. God wasn’t kidding us when He said it right there in Ecclesiastes 4, “two are better than one”. Friend. Family. Spouse. Neighbor. Pair up with someone. Get a buddy. Share the load. In this life, it takes two.

 

There’s more. So much more.

 

Like how I’ve learned so much about my obedience to God when I train my misfit mini horse. How some animals will listen to certain people but treat others like poo on a shoe. How maddening that is, in animal world and in people world.

 

 

How sneaky little goats make you think they’re the cutest thing in the world and then you turn your back and they cause a ruckus that raises the roof, much like the willful and exploratory two-year-old.








How a rabbit will warn all in the hutch of oncoming danger. They look out for one another and will even let kits from another nest nurse and move into their nest if need be. They instinctively take care of the helpless.
 

Some things are just good plain fun to watch and bring tranquility. Like a flock of chickens. Talk about boring and tranquil entertainment. And even then, there’s the blessing of eggs. Life doesn’t always have to be serious and industrious. We sometimes need a little boring entertainment. A place to sit. Something goofy to watch.

 

And when we do, even in the boring…
...we'll find blessing.