For such a time as this

Oh Lord,

Help me to do exactly that, Live. My. Faith.

With Your power, with joy, with love.

For so long, I have wanted a place like this, to be a blessing for those searching for peace, to share Jesus, who loved us so much that He gave himself to save us.

Let me shine brightly for fellow travelers ❤️ I pray they find You, the giver of life…

Happy Easter 🙏🏻

I hope the sun was shining on your day, that He filled your heart with love and the blessings of Spring 🌹

Winter's Slow Departure

The moon rises high.  Snow-lit silver against the early evening midnight blue of an Ohio sky.

The air is still frosted with a biting cold edge, though the calendar says it's late April.  A sweetness I can almost taste is in the slight wind that sweeps up from the lake below. Chilly sounding little frogs fill the air with a hopeful springtime chorus.  "Peep Peep Peep Peep" they echo one another, brave cold little creatures. Poor small things woke from their long winter sleep expecting spring and instead were greeted with freezing cold nights and fitful snowy days, not the warmth they must have hoped for.

Far across the valley, I hear the traffic headed north on the interstate.  When I was a little girl I would lay in my bed, listening to that same traffic and long to be able to hurry along with them.  To go far far away from the sorrows that seemed to fill my small world. I'd listen to the lonely sounds of the big trucks headed north to Canada, past vast storm-tossed Lake Erie, impossibly deep and uncrossable. I've finally come full circle.  After traveling that very interstate southward many years and miles ago, I did find that escape, that new life and went to live on a sea island off the coast of South Carolina for two long sun-filled decades.

But the longing for home never leaves us does it?  Even homes that were often filled with sadness had their measure of love and yes, their need for forgiveness and the mending of deep wounds.  The healing of old scars. And so I came back, fiercely reluctant at first.  Back to the aching cold winters and vibrant green springs.  To the valley where I was raised.  Back to the very home-place and acres that I left long years ago, vowing it the last place on earth I would ever want to live again. 

My parent's old farm, which was large enough to divide me my own spot to build a life, or perhaps rebuild one. I had almost stopped writing this sort of missive. The intricacies of WordPress had almost defeated me and for long months I refused to enter this jungle of technology and instead puttered happily with my peppermint cleaners and sweet puppy's breath. But, I found myself missing my kindest of readers and their sweet words, many of those words full of another kind of healing balm and friendship.  Missing this place to write about the beauty of life and the laughter and yes, the pain. 

The gift of being able to share this country life with the readers I had come to love.  I found myself on nights like this one, thinking about words and writing sentences in my head.  Sentences that would float insistently through my thoughts like forlorn children pleading to be given their own place to soar.

Pondering how to make the scene live for those of you who might also need a breath of sweet spring air to blow away the dust of a long winter past. And so God had a plan, though I fought long with Him about it and declared I knew best. (and not He who knoweth all things)

He had a plan for a new home we would call Foxglove Farm, a new life which has brought more peace and joy than I could have imagined. He had a plan which included the healing that my soul so badly needed, the writing and the friends far and near it has given me and work that brings great joy with the dogs that are part of the fabric of my life. 

Home to the place that I had forgotten I loved with the dearest of all husbands to share it with.

And yes, thankfully too, His plan included one very special small dog named Agatha.

How grateful I am that He led and knew the way and eventually I trusted Him enough to follow.

Keeping Christmas

Sweet puppy breath drifts up and I breathe in amazed at the fragrance, surely one of the most delightful I know.  A puppy tongue reminiscent of softest pink flannel reaches up to give me an adoring kiss.  Looking into the tiny face I fall head over heels in love all over again.

It's a good thing. Being "in dogs" means that for more years than I care to count, Christmas has been an exceedingly busy (dare I say stressful?) time of year. One that I try to treasure but often find myself rushing through, missing the little things that are scattered like small treasures in my path.

The Lord whispers softly to see, really see the gifts all around me.  It's been a difficult year that included the loss of dear friends and then of my mother.  She who finally is free of that worn weary body of hers and is in a place of joy so complete that it defies our ability to comprehend it. I was sorting through things getting ready to decorate for Christmas and these cheery little snowmen stopped me in my tracks.

She would have loved them, with glitter sprinkled liberally and sweet old-fashioned faces.  I sort them gently out of their scattered packages and one of the puppies gives a small whine, ever sensitive and most sympathetic little souls, they are indeed little comfort spaniels and soon a kindly small face is peering worriedly up at me to make sure that all is well.

I breathe a prayer of thanks that mother is safe home in that place where I believe all of those she loved were waiting patiently to welcome her in.  Another prayer of gratitude that I have something worthwhile to set my hands to.

I pray to be a blessing, to bring a measure of beauty and joy to those who need it. One more special thanks for the little creatures I have the privilege to care for and send on their own small journeys of bringing a bit of beauty and love into a world that so badly needs it.

Help me Lord to remember to celebrate your gift of Jesus given to us that first Christmas long long ago. 

The Angel With The Broken Heart

Small broken things. I should have thrown them out years ago I suppose. They graced our tree for years until one frail creature after another took an unexpected tumble to the floor, suffering just enough damage to wound and leave scars, a broken wing, a golden shod foot now missing. My favorite, with her blue scarf, is missing one of her wings, a sad loss to a creature of flight.

Those of you who follow this much-neglected space know that I keep the window sill above my kitchen sink decorated in an ever-changing parade of characters. Now, these three little angels who’ve taken up residence there, give solace, and I haven’t the heart to discard them, imperfect as they are. Somehow, they provide an odd sense of comfort as they faithfully keep watch.

Even though wounded, still bearing gifts.

I’ve fought writing this post for far too long, dreading being the bearer of sad news because even though most of you only knew Agatha through my stories, many of you have fallen in love with a small dog you never met. Even though you never felt the velvet of her small muzzle pressed into the palm your hand or stroked her beautiful long ears, for some of you, this will bring pain and I am foolish enough to think that even another small measure of sadness in this poor world is just too too much to bear.

She has been gone now for just over a year. I’ve started it a dozen times only to have my eyes overflow with tears and my throat gripped in such desperate sorrow that further words are impossible. My beautiful beautiful Agatha is gone… There it is, written and the tears flow, my throat aches with the anguish of it even now. I’ve rejected writing those words as if by actually writing them, her loss becomes real, and I cannot shove the grief away any longer with busyness or focusing on puppies or her namesake company.

I've started it a dozen times only to have my eyes overflow with tears and my poor throat gripped in such desperate sorrow that further words are impossible. My beautiful beautiful Agatha is gone... There it is, written and the tears flow, my throat aches with the anguish of it even now. I've rejected writing those words, as if by actually writing them, her loss becomes real, and I cannot shove the grief away any longer by busyness or focusing on puppies or her namesake company.

(Oh, her face is everywhere, sweet Aggie, you’ll never truly be gone). I look back at the posts I’ve tried to write, and they are filled with such anguish they gather dust while I try to put this pain-filled task behind me.

It’s time I got back to living. Though grief that has torn at my very fiber, my Inbox overflows. Calls not returned. My kind-hearted Puppy People, the few who know about Agatha those who rang in the first days after she was gone, I was unable to speak, shocked at the depth of anguish that choked every word. It seemed like the crumbling of the foundation of all my daily routines. Letters neglected and I steel myself to open my neglected laptop and sit down and methodically work through emails that should have been answered days and weeks ago.

Fall has come my favorite season, the one that I normally spend hours dragging bits and pieces up from the basement, pumpkins, and mercury glass containers all waiting for golden leaves and glorious autumn mums to fill. Dusty tulips lean forlorn where golden-leaved glories should be standing. 
I must must must get busy again, work is good medicine. My dear great Aunt Clara knew that and it’s a legacy that I know will help me through these days that still hold healing as well as tears…

This morning while doing up the breakfast dishes I was struck with the thought that His heart breaks for us, and perhaps even the angels who watch over us are broken-hearted with us when sorrow touches our lives. Every prayer was answered for my dear girl. She was her same utterly beautiful self until the end. She did not suffer. John and I were with her when she took her last breath. She was not alone, the last words she heard were ours, and as she crossed into eternity I believe with all my heart that my Father welcomed that small dog that I adored, safely, Home.

With tears oh, the oceans I have cried, I look at the small faces of my little angel trio and am reminded that not even a sparrow falls that He does not notice. When my darling girl left us, I believe He wept too. Our dogs live pitifully short lives, the day comes all too soon that they must leave us.

She was the closest thing to a child that I’ll ever hold on this earth and when she left she took part of me with her. She went to be in Heaven where the two other little ones that I never got to hold also wait for us there.

Oh, dear Puppy People, I must write this, I must finish it, though the pain it might cause makes me hesitate yet again, I cannot heal until I do this. She was "only a dog" is what many would say, but not you, I know you will understand.

Goodbye, my darling girl, I know you're waiting faithfully at the gates of Heaven, velvet muzzle pressed on those snowy white paws, eyes watching, plumey tail ready to wag with JOY at the first glimpse of those you loved coming home...

In Memory Of My Father

For those of you who have followed Letters From Foxglove Farm, you’ll remember my father’s passing. On this Memorial Day, I look back on that time when my father, a veteran of the Korean War, fought his last good fight.  

(Daddy, I miss you so…)

Dear Gentle Readers & Friends,  It’s been almost exactly one year since my last entry on this, one of my most loved pages on this endeavor called Foxglove Farm…  As many of you know, I have spent the last three years caring for my father during his lengthy battle with his old enemies, illness, old age, and infirmity.  Daddy fought a gallant fight, but on Valentine’s Day, almost three weeks ago, he laid down his long carried burdens, and I was with him when he left this world, stepping onto that other side where I believe with all my heart, his Lord and Saviour Jesus waited to welcome him home.

I almost cannot believe he has left me, I lost two children to miscarriages and have never been able to have more, and he and my mother have been so very precious to me.  Caring for him helped fill a place in my heart that had long been empty.  I spent so many years away from home, and my dear family.  I thank God that I had the privilege of spending so much time with daddy, getting to know again, the father who I never truly had the opportunity to become friends with…  It is a long rather dark & sad story, but suffice to say, I found a father whom I never really knew, and I am unspeakably grateful for our last years together, and for the change that only God could have produced in my father.

I have included the eulogy that I gave at daddy’s funeral, it tells just a bit about a man who was entirely human, and in the end, entirely loved by so many.  And finally, thankfully, understood by his eldest daughter…

Daddy’s baptism, what a joyful time.

Eulogy For My Father

My daddy found the Lord late in life, long after I had begun to give up hope that he would ever be saved. Oh, but God is indeed merciful and answered our prayers and daddy found the Lord and it changed him forever.  We all “work out our own salvation” in many different ways, and though daddy still struggled (as we all do) with his besetting sins, he began to show fruit & evidence of his salvation that increased every year of his life.

Daddy truly loved people, especially the small unnoticed ones, he had a gift of bringing encouragement & laughter to the elderly, the ill & alone.  He called it “Visiting My Invalids” and would make his daily rounds, always with his little black dog Lady at his side.  Together, they would bring a donut or a cup of soup, maybe one of his beloved baloney sandwiches, to those he deemed in need of a meal or a good laugh.  He was faithful in his rounds, visiting those forgotten ones, often daily & then come with stories of his visits & the struggles of those ones he cared for.

“Little John” Upton, one of my father’s dearest little invalids.

I asked him one day about his prayers, what he prayed about, and I was surprised and humbled at his answer, of the daily prayers that he sent up for our mother, and for those he loved.  One day when I stopped to check on him and bring him his supper, he had been in bed much of the day and he exclaimed, “You know, it seems like I pray all day long!” it brought me to tears, yes, God had made a big change in my daddy’s heart and life.

The world won’t much notice the passing of this dear old carpenter, so diminished by the years of illness and of struggle – but he leaves an aching void in many hearts.  I am astonished at the pain I feel, though I wouldn’t wish him back to suffer here, his passing leaves such an empty place in my heart that I can never fill, we all will miss him so…  His little dog Lady too grieves her beloved master, his constant companion was faithful till the end, her job of caring for him, like mine, has ended. I placed her collar on his chest in the coffin with him, we dog lovers know what a comfort that would seem.

I had the privilege of being with daddy when he left this world, the last words he heard were of love & comfort, his last sight of one who loved him dearly… He left quietly, somehow a figure who had always been larger than life, was suddenly small and diminished – simply, unbelievably, not with me anymore…

OH, but we will meet again, how wonderful that we have the precious promise of God, “absent with the body, present with the Lord”!  I will meet you again daddy, no longer frail & ill, no longer struggling with the weakness of this flesh, but more alive & joyous than this life ever saw you.  Thank you Lord for the word & for your promises.

I told daddy in his last moments, that it was ok, to go with God, and I know that indeed Jesus was faithfully waiting to lead my beloved father safely Home….

“Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted…”

The fondest desire of my heart is that through such an unlikely place as this, someone would find that most precious of gifts, eternal life, through accepting Jesus Christ as their Saviour.  My prayer is that many of you will be encouraged and uplifted by what is shared here & that perhaps someone will even find that changed life through calling upon Jesus who makes all things new, who brings light into the darkest times of our lives if we but let Him.  I pray that you find this peace, this truly life-changing relationship, that you find real joy & the peace that only comes in Christ.

If you would like to ask Him into your heart to save you and take you to heaven when you die, you can pray a sincere prayer from your heart, much like the simple prayer my daddy prayed.

“Dear God,  I know that I’m a sinner and that you sent your son to die on the cross to pay the penalty for my sins.  Please forgive me of my sins and come into my heart and save me and take me to heaven when I die.  Help me to live for you,, show me your will for my life.

Amen”

Such a life-changing prayer when prayed from a sincere, repentant heart.  If you have questions or have prayed this prayer, I’d love to know about it and to pray for you.  I’m always available if you’d like to share please write me at hello@foxglovefarm.com