My goodness we have become a nation of whiny complaining folks!  I was thinking about how much people seem to complain as I was helping with winter chores outside yesterday.  Sheesh!  Our ancestors thought they had it made if they had a fully stocked pantry and enough firewood for (not just the winter because it was used for cooking too) the year!  Our ancestors were able to have an opinion and express it in the land we call the home of the free and the brave.  And our ancestors worked a hard day's work never thinking anyone owed them anything they didn't work for.  Mr. Flanagan and I are ever so blessed here renting this  old farmhouse.  Home is where you hang your heart for sure, and quoting from the movie It's a Wonderful Life, " It's deep in the race for a man to want his own roof and walls and fireplace..."

Well call us corny, but last night  Mr. Flanagan and I watched an old VHS entitled, "Little House on the Prairie, The Christmas They Never Forgot."

You see our Christmas was quite a simple affair; we wanted to keep it pretty simple, and not get all caught up in the busy craziness of it all.  So after our visit with our adopted grandparents Norbert and Marge, Mr. Flanagan got out his harmonica and I sat down to the old pump organ and we cranked out the tunes.  By tunes I mean traditional Christmas carols that is...
First he would play a song of his choosing on the harmonica and then we would belt it out together singing as loudly as we could.  The kitten would scurry from one corner of the room to another as if the walls were going to tumble in. (Mr. Flanagan certainly has a robust singing voice that carries for miles!)  Then it would be my turn to choose a carol.  I would pump my legs up and down at the old pump organ and magically (as I do not read music) a tune would twirl itself out of my fingertips upon the ivory keys.  I always say that I do not know how to play a lick of music,  but for some reason when I sit in front of that old organ carols or hymns roll out automatically (of course with a few missed or sour notes here and there.)

If anyone would have been outside they most likely would have had a good laugh at the two of us in our flannel pajamas howling out the carols like a pair of blue tick hounds!  The best part of this time we had together was how similar it was to the Little House On The Prairie show we had viewed.  We did not exchange any gifts (as we could not afford to buy each other any gifts), we did not have a fancy meal complete with fine wines, and we did not have company or family in our humble home.  Snow was falling as if mimicking a snow globe that had been rocked to and fro, the air held a nip of chill, and the wind was sifting around the old farmhouse like a ghost relentlessly seeking some sort of entrance.  As meager as it seemed we felt as wealthy as the most prestigious kings or queens of the world!

Probably unlike our ancestors or the characters portrayed in the Little House series, we were efficiently warm and snug in our old farmhouse.  Did we have chores to do...oh yes!  But nothing like our ancestors had in the dead of winter.  Winter depicted in the show we viewed was just as cold and relentless then as it is now.  You see Mr. Flanagan and I had been lamenting about our automatic horse watering system.  It had frozen up and for some reason no matter what we did, we could not get it to work.  Imagine!  An automatic watering system for horses!  What would our ancestors think of an automatic watering system?   Heaven's to Betsy...we have to haul water now?!!  How long until that system can be fixed??  Oh...my! 


On an -11 degree day one can sure appreciate what our ancestors had to go through watering the livestock each morning.  IN below zero weather with mittens made of wool they would not just "flick" on the hose spigot like we were able to do.  Pump...pump...pump....pump!  Hours upon hours it must have taken just to pump and secure enough water for the livestock and the family each morning. (Wearing not the latest winter wear from LL BEAN, but handmade clothing and layers upon layers of it!)  

....and when the snow came down in feet rather than inches, it was up to the people and a trusty old shovel to remove that snow.  I watch Mr. Flanagan hop into our landowner's plow truck and effortlessly remove the snow from the roads.  In what would take our ancestors hours to do he has done in minutes (and he does a fantastic job at it too).  In addition, he is dressed in his warmest Columbia jacket along with lightweight state-of-the-art gloves complete with hand warmers.  Modern heated equipment that far outweighs the old wool for warmth when the temps dip below zero.  What is there to complain about there?  (Especially me as I watch him out there in his Columbia jacket while I sip  a nice white tea sprinkled with a bit of ginger in the warmth of the farmhouse :)

Speaking of warmth...
Without question we have it made when it comes to heating our homes.  I cannot imagine all the hours it took our ancestors to chop, stock, pile, and split enough wood for heat and for cooking.  Let's face it heat was not as uniform as we are so drawn to think.  Today we burn our yule logs aesthetically for ambiance or to chase a chill from the room.  Years ago however,  cast iron stoves or fireplaces heated the room they were in and unless you had a stove or fireplace in your bedroom you could expect to face some pretty chilly nights!  Unlike our warm air forced heat, our ancestors depended upon a limited heating source and warmed their chilly toes with layers of wool stockings. Should we even think about having to use the bathroom on a below zero day in winter?  I will leave that up to your own imagination.  Brrr!

Even in our poorest of poorest settings we are still catered to and wealthier than we think.  Things are a bit tight here at our farmstead; with a wedding on the way for our daughter, a new granddaughter due in May, and my parent's 50th wedding anniversary celebration coming up one could say we have a bit of saving to do with the limited funds we work with.  But compared to our ancestors that lived as pioneers,  those that lived through the great depression, or even those who lived with debilitating illnesses (that could be fixed or helped in today's technology) we are quite a spoiled generation.  I would be so bold as to say we are a very spoiled nation.  
In third world countries one does not "turn up the heat" when they are cold.  They do not "twist on the tap" for clean drinking water.  They do not have the "liberty" to head to the store to purchase macaroni and cheese, or even a can of soup.  Our dogs and cats eat better than some folks do in third world countries.  Our concern many times is more focused on how much more damage our current administration will inflict upon our country, what time the Packer game is on, or even how angry we were because McDonald's got our cheeseburger order wrong.  
Even our poorest of poor are offered shelters, cell phones, and food pantries.  And before feathers are ruffled I am able to say I know first hand about food pantries and shelters having had to use these services after my ex-husband left me.  Even as poor as poor could be, I still was able to eat, turn on water for a clean drink, and sleep safely in a warm bed.   

  You see I know writing a weblog will be read and folks will either agree or disagree with what I have to say; be that as it may the words are my own and the beliefs are mine.  This here is my log of thoughts and musings sort of an online diary one could say.  I am quite proud to be an American.  America however has become a nation of beholden and spoiled people.  I see it from our children demanding cell phones and the latest XBOX to the folks of maturation demanding the latest Lexus.  When did the focus change?
I live in the Land of the Free and The Brave.  I am glad that I am free (as we all are) to say "this is how I feel" or "this is what I know".  What I am ashamed of is that I now have to be BRAVE enough to say it.  If I say my beliefs on the Bible, or God, or the effects of (I believe to be a non-existent) global warming, it seems to me I can no longer say how I believe without also being quite brave.  I have to be brave to face the onslaught of those that are not like-minded, or those that believe differently.  Yikes...and MEAN!  Some folks are just downright mean about addressing those that do not seem to think like they do!   Instead of healthy debates it ends up being a war of words and one trying to convince the other to believe as they do.  

That is not my goal with my writings.  My writings are mine.  They are "me" put into words.  I am more than brave enough to say what I know to be right and what I know to be wrong.  I focus a lot of my writings on what I have learned from history and my surroundings.  Yes..I have a strong faith in God and many of my writings are just the plain simple truths of what I read in the Bible and what I see around me.  Call it my soapbox, or my slanted view, or whatever you wish but the bottom line is sometimes the focus needs to be a bit more on where the moral compass should be.  I wonder what our ancestors would say if they came back to life today.  Our forefathers would take arms and raise a ruckus if they could see the rights we have been intimidated into surrendering as of late.  This nation seems to be going to hell in a hand basket if you ask me.  
(By the way...historically speaking... "Going to hell in a hand basket" was a phrase the miners used to proclaim as they were slowly lowered into the earth in a wire basket to begin their dangerous day's work).  

The only thing I can do about the moral compass I talk about is to continue doing what I currently do.
I must (as our Pastor said this morning)  Increase Christ and decrease me.  I need to increase others and decrease me (and that can be difficult!).  I want to live as if I were dying (because I am...we all are! If we are guaranteed anything life- it is that we all will die), and do the best job I can do.  Folks, make sure to treat everyone as if they were the most important people in the world because guess what??? THEY ARE!  Think positively as you face 2014.   I am not a fool to think bad things are not going to show up this coming year.  I am wise enough to know I have a God that can take care of me (and He always does) and will make sure I can,  and will make it through the tough times.  He shows me how to appreciate the good things.  So while others on this New Year's Eve may donn their gay apparel...and head to the local saloon,  I am going to reflect on the past year and enjoy the simple comforts of a home, a warm bed, a full pantry, lots of firewood, and look towards a new year- a new year learning how to increase others and decrease myself.  First goal on the agenda?  Goats.  I want to buy some goats for families living in the third world country of India.  Sounds silly to you as you munch your Doritos, but to that family or families it is fresh goat milk everyday!  Today after I am done writing this blog I am going to set up my goal chart, sort of a picture graph of prayers and dreams.  I do it every year and just about every year I see those goals, dreams, and prayers come to life.  COOL!
Try it...you might be surprised!

I never tire of my surroundings here on the farmstead.  Just recently my Face Book friend Carol posted a picture of the winter sunset in her backyard...then the next morning she posted a photo of the sunrise.

Each just as gloriously beautiful as the other.  

I never tire of my surroundings.  Especially in the very early morning and the setting of the evening sun.  

Still, still, still... three words describe the setting of the sun last night.  As I drove myself to town to work the evening shift, there was not a turn of the road that did not shed a myriad of breathtaking beauty.  The setting sun had painted the opposing hills in spectacular shades of oranges, reds, and pinks mingled with the haze of misty grays.  Each hill wore their coat of color differently.  The whiteness of the snow blankets appeared as a fuzzy patchwork quilts upon a mounded goose feather tick.   I was thankful I had the road to myself as I crossed the Wisconsin River.  There too I could see the unique beauty this season boasts.  True, none of us likes the bitter cold nor the blustery winds that seem to cough up yet more snow, but the river held such glittering movement at that moment I quite forgot the extreme cold.  Shards of ice floated and gleamed in the setting sun.  The hills rose above the river as if to say "Look at me and  how I reach to the sky".  It would have been a very disgruntled driver behind me had I not had the road to myself because, right there in the middle of the bridge, I came to a complete stop to behold the winter touching the river of ice.  
What a lovely sight it was, but my shift was to begin soon so I was not able to finish watching the completion of the sunset panorama.

The sunrise on the other hand is just as beautiful as I take in my surroundings.  Only the sunrise does not offer the three words a sunset gives.  For you see in the morning no matter how cold it is there is no such thing as still, still, still!  

Perhaps it is because there are no leaves on the bare and quiet trees, or maybe because there is an afghan of glistening snow upon the ground that the sound of the bird seem to resound in such a vibrancy. 

 Just as the sun begins to rise I put on my warmest work clothes to perform the routine morning chores.  After the bitter close of a long night everything from wood stoves to horses needs to be fed.  At first the cold takes my breath away; I tuck my face deeper into the scarf wrapped around my face.  Once my body adjusts to the onslaught of single digit temperatures I take my hat off to listen.  A chorus of song tickles my ears.  The winter birds sing "good morning" as the sun breaks the horizon.  A muffled nicker from the horses mingles with the variety of singing birds as I walk to the wood stove to feed it the morning meal.  Snow squeaks against my boots and reminds me I should have put warmer socks on.  Hearty wood smoke coats my sense of smell as I toss logs upon the hot coals and once again I look around me, and take in the morning sun painting the driftless hills.  

Still, I never tire of my surroundings...

MY CHRISTMAS RANT
by: Dawn 

This month being the "Christmas" season,  so many folks are focused on the materialistic chasm of parties, gift giving, and obligations.  
Maybe it's just me but sometimes I feel like skipping all the seasonal -must do- activities and I feel like focusing more on the surroundings.  I think generally speaking we loose ourselves in the conventional way of "holiday" thinking, and we forget to focus on what is truly important... thus causing undue stress and disheveled schedules.

Maybe it is the tsunami of red and green santa's that hit the store shelves before we are even done with handing out candy to costumed kids, but I find I tire of the holidays as soon as October rolls around.  

Today it seems as though it is easy to forget that the reason we even celebrate Christmas, or the "holidays" as some put it, is because a certain person was born to redeem us and set us free. 

 There are those that will find any way possible to refuse the idea of Jesus Christ (unless using the name as a cuss word which blows my mind, why don't we say Dali Lhama, or Buddah sakes as cuss words?) or that we even have the "holiday" season because HE was born.  I find it interesting that so many refuse to believe He existed when countless historical accounts, not just the Bible, record His birth and life.  

Why do we even have "Christ"mas?  We don't have "mother earth"mas, "buddah"mas or "confucius"mas.  What caused us as a people to decide to celebrate this particular month with silver bells and brightly wrapped gifts?  Historically speaking...why did our ancestors even bother to begin such ~Christmas~ traditions if there was nothing to base such celebrations upon?  Some will claim the dull regime of 'religion' or 'church' requirements, but if thus is the case, where did the 'religion' or 'church' base their requirements upon?

Take the many toys and gifts into consideration one will give or receive (all of which were probably made in China).  What causes us as a society to overspend on said gifts in the "holiday spirit"?  
No one can deny that a tricycle for example was created for a child's enjoyment.  Did mom and dad put all the parts and pieces into a box and BAM! shake it around and slam it into creation?  Impossible.  Someone had to intricately put that tricycle together for little Bobby or Suzy.  Piece by piece it was created and assembled for the child lovingly.  Yet some say the world "BAM!", was magically in existence by itself.  Ludicrous.  It was created.  

Lovingly our surroundings were perfectly created for us to enjoy and occupy while we are here.  We were created to inhabit this land;  too often we scurry about focusing on such unearthly details, and we forget we are to enjoy this time we have here.   

Still...still...still...how is it that each and every  snowflake (trillions upon trillions of them) is spectacularly created individually to not replicate another.  How is it that a child can be born knowing how to magically take in its first breath after submersion within the womb?  How is it that our very earth spins upon its axis without falling or exploding into bits?  (Yet those tout it exploded into being?)

Nay-Sayers will puff up their chests and clear their throats in annoyance at my written words which in essence will cause them to ponder, but I celebrate the Christmas season because God was born as a man known as Jesus Christ and walked this earth.  Then He was crucified and rose again.  No confusing nuts and bolts about it.  The reason the sun "appears" to rise and set is His doing.  The reason the birds sing and the hills rise to meet the sky is because He created the splendor of the earth and all it contains.  

It is not hard to look around you and see each season holds some special charm or beauty.  I know there are difficult times in life I can identify having been through so many losses and trials.  I find what truly gives me peace and redemption, or maybe relief and joy, is to simply forget the conventional patter of the holiday season.  Instead I reflect on the birth of the Holy Child in a stable not that much different than my old hay-filled barn, and what was created around me from the little kitten biting my toes to the completion of the sunrise.  
"Gloria in excelsis Deo" Latin for "Glory to God in the Highest"...this is my winter song as I celebrate the Christmas season in my own reflective way.  Instead of gifts and twinkling $3.00 multicolored lights on a gnarly jack pine, I am choosing to consider my blessings of family and friends.  I am focusing on my surroundings; on the sunrises and the sunsets.  I am looking ahead to the future with silver bells of optimistic goals and gifts of multiple blessings.  

Take it or leave but in scripture it says,  " And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment" Hebrews 9:27
Think about it.  Just like the winter appears to cause the appearance of a silent and still death we know that still nature lives.  We all must approach the same stillness yet we can still live.  We shall be judged and either He will know us or He will say "I never knew thee...be gone from my presence".  That is a scary thought if you ask me.
I have not a worry. 


 What do you choose?