In My Backyard

This is how I start my day...

feeding the birds.

And enjoying the nature preserve that is beyond my door.

If you look to the right, you will see some legs. {If you squint...}

They probably belong to this fellow.  

Bucky.  

See his "buttons" emerging on his head?

It's such a blessing to have daily visitors, like clockwork.

Morning and night.

Coming to my door.

It's a good way to start the new year.

Deer at my door...

And a fresh snow fall with crisp cold temps,

and bright sunshine.

Let us move forward with gratitude for all we have, and don't have.

For it is His plan.  

And we only need to be obedient to His Word. 

Sounds easy, but it takes daily strength.

Strength that we only get from Him.

"Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompence of reward.  

For ye have need of patience, 

that, 

after ye have done the will of God, 

ye might receive the promise."  

Hebrews 10:35-36

I received a letter yesterday from one of my dear Old Order Amish friends, 

with that scripture leading out.  

What a perfect reminder to stay in the will of God.  

I wish you many blessings in this new year.

Until we connect again, Lord willing ~

Sherry

Mancy in the Middle

Mid-August.  It’s hard to believe summer is sliding into fall.

Before long, my game of “Mancy in the Middle” will end. 

I live in Mancy.  Mancy is not the correct name.  Mancelona is.  Mancelona was the daughter of the town’s founder, hence the name.  But many folks call it other names.  Man-ce-tucky is one.  Man-ce-tucky describes the “redneck Appalachian ways” of our small town.  One stop light.  Across road on one side, a military tank sits on the lawn.  If you happen to get a red light while heading north or south through the Mitten state, you might see a horse or two at the local Dairy Delight across and up the road from the tank, complete with cannon, next to the post office.  

The town fits us well.  In many ways.  We’re a town where the folks at the local hardware know your name.  Post Office also.  And the local Feed Store.  We’re not fancy.  We’re just Mancy.  You’ll find men with beards and work-stained hands.  They wear their hard work for all to see.  Lumbermen, farmers, ranchers, and roughnecks, etc.. 

Since April, I have been leaving our “40” each week to head north to assist with aging family.  My home town is a beautiful town…always many degrees cooler as I crest the hill at the foot of the bay.

It’s a resort town, on Lake Michigan – Little Traverse Bay.  The town swells each summer with what we refer to as “Fudgies”.  Fudgies are those who buy and consume “fudge” made by many confectioners in the area.  Memorial Day to Labor Day, the Fudgies invade.  Traffic swells – both vehicle/bike and foot.  It has always been this way, and always will be this way.  Cottage living, restaurants, art shows and events are geared for this summer season.  Well-groomed men with pastel shirts and khaki shorts are found in the “organic” section of the various stores.  Chatty starched-white tennis-skirted women and even chattier chic children are to be found.  Topics of tennis and organic this – organic that.  It’s a swirl of people and action and everyone seems to have one thing in common – they seem to adore their hand-held god (little g).  {The cell phone - aka computer -  in the palm of your hand}. 

Until Labor Day, the “Fudgies” blend in with the locals.  After that, life returns to normal.  This is what I grew up with, and it benefited me as I worked in beautiful places “on the water” like Little Harbor Club and Stafford’s Pier Restaurant, just to name a few.  Old money…new money.  But always money.  It’s an amazing place, this northland. 

Summer also finds me more mobile.  I find the truck heading south, sliding into my Old Order Amish community.  Earlier in the month, while sitting in the 3-hour Sunday church service reverently belting out German hymns of persecution (the Loblied in particular), I felt at home.  A “carry in” dinner followed, where each ‘fork full’ was truly heavenly.  But more importantly, the conversations during the dinner and the fellowship that followed filled my soul.  People were connected to each other, with the center of the conversation Godly.  No hand-held gods here.  Only the true God – the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.   

So…from Mancy an hour south to Amish, back to Mancy.  Then Mancy an hour north to my home town on Lake Michigan.  And then back to our secluded piece of land in Mancy.   And so it goes. 

As I walked through the woods this morning, scaring Pats into flight and picking blackberries, I felt the call of Autumn.  Today the woods were still, as our precious family vacationers left for home the evening before.  I can’t imagine a place I would rather be, than in the woods.  Soon, I will be more “in the middle” than not. 

Until then, have a wonderful end of summer.  And I’ll check in soon, Lord willing.

Sherry

The Pilgrim

Although my great (x 12) grandparents, John Alden and his bride-upon-landing Priscilla Mullins arrived on the Mayflower, I hesitate to share their sense of adventure. 

I did, however, inherit the love of the land and God.

As I walked our wooded trails yesterday, I pondered why I/we don’t like to leave home.  It’s been over 12 years since we had someone else do our chores while we left our land.  

Perhaps it is because our simple ways provide me with all I need to be content.  What is contentment?  

For years, I was like a animal-on-the-go…always running.  But to where?

Now, I bask in the contentment of His word.  His teachings.  His LOVE.

On that walk yesterday, I stopped at our Bear’s Den cabin and snagged a small one-person-percolator to brew my coffee while up north during my weekly stays.  Yes, I could opt for a Keurig coffee selection every morning, but something tells me I am going to want a little bit of “home” with me, in the form of a camp coffee pot. 

The countdown is on.   See my Blog "Daylight in the Swamp"...

It is 7 days before I begin my trek north each week, only to return home on the weekend.  Even my Mother, the recipient of my travels, was shocked I would leave my lifestyle.  It will be a journey.  A pilgrimage of sorts.

I will miss our broody hens, showing their chicks all the nuances of our property, causing me to alter my walking route each morning. 

I will miss being in the dog yard, handing out their breakfast treats as Russ scoops and waters.  I know they will miss me too…my heart aches before I even leave.

Then there’s Zip.  She’s my daily shadow.  What will she think?

Russ.  He will remain busy from dawn to dusk, as usual.  However, he will miss me showing up with a fresh-popped pan of popcorn at the end of the afternoon, or warm cookies from the oven mid-morning.  And I will miss him also, as we trek each night on our trails, talking over our lives and His promises.

I will miss the land.  My feet connecting each day, feeling drawn to every change, which takes on a new look every day.  Even last night, as it was chilly, I told Russ that as much as I can’t wait until Spring, I’m really looking forward to Fall.  I love it so.

But then, we are just all pilgrims passing through.  

This home, however beautiful or however flawed, is not our home.  Our home awaits, for those who know the Son of Man.

Do you know Him?  I pray you answered “without a doubt”.  

If not, please take time to get to know Him.  The love you will feel will be like nothing you have ever experienced.  The King is Coming.  And He’s coming for you…

Until next time, dear friends.

Lord willing,

Sherry

Pretty in Pink

Business Trip.

That sums up my son Charlie's trip to his home state of Michigan this past week.

He and his business partner, Bub Kuns,
were scouting locations for their new upcoming movie...Ordinary World.

 I saw some snippets of him.  But, for a mother, it's never enough.

But thank goodness, he and his family travel together, for vacation and/or business.

It left us gals some "down time" ~ treasured one-on-one time
with my beautiful Daughter-in-Love,
Kristina.

AND, their new daughter,
Evie Marie~!

What a wonderful afternoon we spent...
and it wasn't just us gals, 
as we also had the Little Woodsman, David, spend the leisure hours with us,
enjoying the Michigan flora and fauna before they head back to California.

I must, must, must be patient until we see each other again.

Writing with heavy heart, until next time my dear friends, God willing.

The Afterglow

This last week has been an emotional journey for me, for many reasons.

It began with our two horses leaving for their new homes.  

Traveler and Buck.

And two back-to-back trips to the Amish, with my friend Ellen.

More, much more, on that later...

And smack in the middle was a visit from my youngest son, Mark.

Mark usually visits every summer, 

flying from Richmond (Northern) California, 

back home to see family.

(We all grew up on Little Traverse Bay in Petoskey, Michigan...

Home of the Million Dollar Sunset.)

Mark is proudly referred to as "my golfer son". 

I love it when he comes home.

You can take the kid out of the country, 

but you can't take the country out of the kid.

And yes, the ball made it to the woods... 300+ yards away...with ease.

He always spends a day at our place.

To relax and connect with the critters.

And help Russ around the farm with chores and such.

And we always head up to Petoskey, for the rest of the family time.

My Mother, Jackie, hosted a dinner at her lovely home, much to our delight.

Catching up and relaxing.  That is what vacations are for...

And reliving the good ole' days, through stories and laughter.

And a time to even ponder the future...

But alas, once Mark leaves, I'm left with a heavy heart...

wishing for a lifetime of days with my son.

But for now, I'll settle back in.  

Dreaming of an even simpler life mirroring the Amish, as we move forward in our own dream. 

One of farm, family, and simplicity.  

The simplicity of being God-sufficient, and abiding in Him.

Until tomorrow, God willing.

Michigan Winds

Does anyone know where the love of God goes...

When the waves turn the minutes to hours.

"The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" written, composed, and performed by Canadian Gordon Lightfoot.