Five Minute Friday: Reflect

(Pretty sure this took longer to write than five minutes...but oh well. Also, in case this post makes it sound like I bought my dog for a reproduction machine, I didn't. And if this post makes me sound like I don't love my dog, trust me. Nothing could be further from the truth. With those things in mind, read on.)

It was something I started planning long before I handed over the money. I wanted a dog. But not just any dog. I wanted a female Golden Retriever. And I wanted to breed her. I had a plan. I would get through the first two years until I reached the end goal of breeding her. Then she would have her puppies, and I would make some money off them and have a good time. What I wasn't prepared for was the roller coaster of life that I would be taken on in the next 2 ½ years. And I definitely wasn't prepared for the way that little, fluffy, blond creature would wiggle her way into my heart and just stay there. The first year and a half past according to plan. But then things started to go downhill (according to my time line). Shortly before my self imposed time line stated she should be bred, I spent the money to have her hips x-rayed only to find out that one hip was not as good as the other. Que: stressful time. I remember sitting in the parking lot of the vet's office just staring outside and thinking, “why? Why can't both hips be good? I said I would still praise You no matter what, God...but why?” A few days and a lot of hard thinking later, during a conversation with my parents, we remembered an incident during her puppy hood. She fell off an ATV and was run over, and the only sign of injury was her dragging her hip for a few minutes. Since then she hadn't had any trouble. Crisis = averted. With the stud dog lined up, current on all shots, etc., etc., all that was needed was for her to come into heat. And once again, my carefully planned out time line wasn't going according to plan. Months passed and I became slightly depressed over the fact that she just wouldn't come into heat. But finally, it happened. She was in heat. Phone calls to the vet's office and the stud dog's owner were made and appointments were set up. Once again, things didn't go completely as I had planned, but unlike before, this time I walked away from it all with a bred dog. Now it was out of my hands. Four weeks (and a lot of looking at my bank account and shuddering at the thought of what would happen if she wasn't pregnant) passed and I finally took a picture to compare with the before-breeding picture. The amount of joy I felt as I saw the definite difference was about three times as much as a child on Christmas morning. Since that day, I have had moments of worry. Some days it seems as if she really isn't getting any bigger. Other days I start panicking about the whole process of birthing puppies (I grew up around calves being born, and have helped with my share of births, but dogs are a little bit different). But through it all, I have been reminded that now matter how carefully I plan my life, no matter how perfect I think my time line is, God's plan and time line is SO much better than mine. I thought I knew what I wanted. I wanted a female Golden Retriever who would give me puppies, and ok, sure, we can be friends I guess. But God knew that I needed a dog who would be my best friend. A dog who would challenge me and help me grow in my faith. (Hey. Don't laugh. God can use anything.) It's been a crazy ride, these past 30 months, but I wouldn't trade them for anything. 

Five Minute Friday: She

She leaps out of her pen every morning, and waits semi-patiently as I dish out her breakfast. She wolfs down said breakfast and bounces off to her kennel. Her happy face watches me through the fence as I head off to school and I am greeted with the same sight when I return home. She can't talk with words (obviously) but she says more with her eyes and her actions than some people do in 3 months worth of words. She is my best friend, my partner-in-crime, my happy spot. As someone once said,"If I had a dollar for every time my dog made me smile, I would be a millionaire."

Five Minute Friday: Worship

How great is our God - sing with me

How great is our God - and all will see

How great, how great is our God

They were words that a good portion of those kids had probably sung at least once in their young lives. But I don't think any of them had ever sung those words the way they sung them that day. They didn't just say the words in a sing song voice. Instead, they worshiped God and those words poured out of their mouths. Closed eyes. Open eyes. Hands stretched to the sky. Hands folded in front of their waist. Swaying with the music. Just standing and taking it all in. Each of those young kids had a different way of worshiping. But one thing was the same. They were all worshiping Jesus.

Five Minute Friday: Small

I drove up to the gas station and shut my pickup off at the pump. The attendant walked out and greeted me with the words "Good morning, Rebekah! You off to work?" I told him I was headed over to the restaurant to eat breakfast with my Dad. We talked for a few more minutes about the weather (in a we-actually-care-about-the-weather-cause-it-affects-crops way) and school and our plans for the weekend. Then I headed over to the restaurant and sat down at the table my Dad and I always sit at. He wasn't there yet so I told the owner/waitress to wait until he got there to start cooking my food. She walked into the kitchen and I heard her tell her sister that "She wants to wait till Eric gets here to eat. That's Eric's daughter out there."

A few days later when I stopped by the auto parts store the owner asked me what my name was (I had been in there before, but always with my brother) and when he heard my last name he said "Oh yeah! You're Eric & Margie's daughter!" And in reference to my Uncle & Aunt, "If all my customer's were as good as they are, I would be retired by now."

The town I live in is very small. We have one blinking yellow light (no joke). If you aren't related to someone, you probably know them. My mother can hear almost any random name and give you at least some of that person's family history. Traffic is heavy when there are more then 4 cars on Main Street at the same time. Our town mascot is a rooster (who used to just wander around town before he died). And the only businesses open on Sunday are the grocery store and the two restaurants. 

A lot of people called it prison when I was growin up

But these are my roots and this is what I love

Cause everybody knows me and I know them

And I believe that's the way we were supposed to live

Wouldn't trade one single day here in small town USA

Five Minute Friday: Story

My family has always been one for stories. Whether it was my uncle spinning a tale of how he lost his fingers to us cousins when we were younger, or all the men comparing hunting stories (the buck you miss was how big again?), there is never a lack of entertainment at a family get together. And even outside the family grouping, stories are never far from my families minds. Sometimes it's a Facebook post from my cousin about her latest adventure in Europe. Sometimes it's a blog post from another cousin about guests and dust bunnies. Sometimes it's an email from my dad about running through an airport to catch a flight. Sometimes it's a story that my sister shares with our church family about the people in Africa and how she left her heart there. The long and short of it is, my family is a connoisseur of words. They always have been, and they always will be. Me? I'm not so good with words. And if there is anybody out there who disagrees, believe me. I am. Words don't come easily for me. I know what I want to say, but it just never seems to come out right. So instead of a connoisseur of words like the rest of my family, I am a connoisseur of pictures. I tell my stories with pictures. Instead of telling you how legit my family is, I show you. Instead of telling you about the place I work, I show you. Instead of telling you about the lavender farm my parents, sister, and I stopped by, I show you. Instead of telling you about our Fourth, I show you. Some people use words to tell a story, I  use pictures.

Five Minute Friday: Broken

(Excuse my long winded-ness...I couldn't get it all out in 5 minutes.)

I come from a strong family. Not only physically (farmers, loggers, law enforcement, military, etc.) but also mentally. My family is the type to never say die. To just keep on going.
One of the strongest women I know is my grandmother (I talked about her here) and this last January I got to see that strength come out full force when my Grandpa was in the hospital with some health issues.
At the beginning of this month, my Grandma was put in the hospital with an incredibly nasty flu that went into several other things.
As I said before, Grandma is a strong woman. She is in her late 70's, and has more energy than I do. I don't have time or space to try and describe her, so just believe me when I say she acts like a 25 year old. So having her in the hospital was a new and frightening thing. Hearing that she couldn't be out of bed for more then 30 minutes was not exactly comforting.
Her physical strength had broken. But her mental strength was still there. Her heart strength was still there.
Now several weeks later, her physical strength is almost back up to par. And once again, I am seeing the strength come out as she cares for my Grandpa who is in the hospital again.
My Grandpa fell a few days ago. Two nights ago, my Mom and Grandma took him into the hospital. And yesterday afternoon, it was discovered that in the fall he had broken his hip.
There is a lot of breaking happening down the sidewalk from me, in my grandparents house. Breaking of physical strength. Breaking of bodies. Breaking of the un-breakable image I have always had of my grandparents. But there is also a lot of love. My grandparents have been married for a very long time, and even though their bodies may be breaking, their love stays strong.

Five Minute Friday: Belong

I walked into the room that first day and looked around. So many new faces. It was overwhelming. I found a little corner and just sat. Observing. Wondering what on earth I was doing there.

I wanted to belong.

I wanted to be part of the inside joke that the group two rows in front of me were laughing about. I wanted to know who the person was that the girls to my left were discussing. I wanted someone to walk into the room and yell out my name.

But no one knew me.

No one rushed over to sit by me. As I opened my book, and then proceeded to half-fake my way through the day, I kept thinking about belonging. It was something I was desperate for. Something that I had never really given much thought to up until then. At least, not at school.

Because my school consisted of me, my two brothers, and my sister. And when I left the desk in my room that I had done my school on for 12 years and walked into another room filled with desks and strange faces and new-ness, I experienced culture shock. I spent the next few months adjusting to the new culture. The one where your school desk wasn't 3 feet away from your bed. The one where your mom wasn't the Principal.

And the thought of belonging kept coming back to me. Over, and over. And slowly I started to notice something. All of the people in that room were just like me. They wanted to belong. And because of that common thread, we all did belong.

Five Minute Friday: Listen

This morning I woke up before my alarm. So I just lay there. And listend. And soaked up the sounds.

The sound of birds chatting cheerily in the trees. The sound of my Mom's boats as she walked through the yard under my window taking care of chores. The sound of a cow's moo. The sound of my bed, my own bed, creaking as I rolled over. The sound of a sprinkler starting up. The sound of my Dad getting ready down the hall.

No sound of traffic. No sound of yappy dogs. No sound of a fan whirling above my head.

Just sounds of peace and quiet. Sounds that, to me, are home.

Five Minute Friday: Fall

Her Daddy gave her her first pony

Then taught her to ride

She climbed high in that saddle

Fell I don't know how many times

Taught her a lesson that she learned

Maybe a little too well...Cowgirls don't cry

I love the song "Cowgirls Don't Cry" by Brooks and Dun. It talks about how in life you're gonna fall down. You're gonna fall off your horse. But you have to get back up and move on. You have to get back into that saddle and ride. 

I have been riding horses for years, and I have fallen off more times than I want to count. But every time I fell off, I got up, brushed myself off, and got back on. Even when I hurt my back and had a concussion. (I am not always the sharpest knife in the drawer...) 

I have learned so much from horses. It would take much longer than five minutes to list everything (in fact I honestly don't know if I could list them all) but one of the main things is that you're gonna get banged up. You're gonna have bruises, you're gonna have bloody wounds. You're gonna have tears, you're gonna have scars. You're gonna be hurt. And it is the same way in life. Sometimes those bloody wounds are on your heart, where no one can see them. And sometimes they are out in the open. But, just like with horses, the wounds are gonna heal. They pain won't last forever. But you have to get back up. When you fall, you have to make the conscience decision to get back on that horse and ride. Because if you don't, you may miss something amazing. 

'Cause cowgirls don't cry

Ride, baby, ride

Lessons in life are gonna show you in time

Soon enough you're gonna know why

It's gonna hurt every now and then

If you fall get back on again

Cowgirls don't cry

Five Minute Friday: Imagine

She sat at the table yesterday and told me she can't wait to grow up. I looked into her innocent, 3 year-old face and told her not to wish her life away.

How well I remember wishing the exact same things just a few years ago. I felt the same way that she does, that once I was grown up, life would be easy, and I could do whatever I wanted to.

If only I knew.

I never imagined that my life would turn out to be what it is. I never imagined that growing up wouldn't be nearly as much fun as I thought it would.

If you would have asked me 6 months ago where I thought I would be today, I most certainly wouldn't have told you here.
If you would have asked me two years ago what I was going to study in college, I wouldn't have told you Exercise Science.
If you would have asked me 10 years ago if there were any benefits to being young, I probably would have laughed in your face.

When you are young, you sit around and imagine what life will be like when you are old enough to make your own decisions. (At least I did.)
You imagine that it will be pothole free.
Roadblock free.
Landslide free.
Practically perfect in every way.

You never imagine that potholes, roadblocks and landslides will be a daily part of live. But they are.

So please, little ones, don't wish your life away. Don't imagine your life away. Just enjoy being young.

Five Minute Friday: View

A few days before I left my hometown to come help my cousin several hundered miles away, I took this picture and posted it on Instagram. It is the view out my bedroom window. I love this view. It brings back so many happy memories. Long summer hours spent in the pool with cousins and friends. Summer mornings and evenings spent bucking hay in the field. Beautiful rides through the snow with my horse. And while I love this view so very much and can't wait to get back to it, I have started to really love another view.

I took this picture out my bedroom window a few days later. Different window, different town, different state, different bedroom, different memories, and yet it is still a beautiful view that I love.