Category Archives: Writing

Here’s to Another Year

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Homestead Diaries just hit its fourth anniversary! How exciting. Thank you so much to all my readers, new and old, who play an important role in the life of this blog. Knowing that I’m writing for people, not just for myself, is part of what keeps me going. I particularly appreciate the time people take to leave feedback and comments, or to share articles on Facebook. That means so much!

Over the next year, I hope to continue to build up the hiking article database, as well as my wildflower identification page. I have no immediate plans, but some fun project ideas have been coming to mind! We’ll see what the next year holds.

This blog began as a way to document my family’s move to the Black Hills, and it has grown to be an ongoing project I love to work on. Writing and photography are ways that I remember things I want to remember, and I love getting to share those things with other people!

Thanks for reading!

 

Parable in a Pasque Flower

Posted on by under Photography, Writing

Pasque flowers appear after the bitterness of winter, often before winter has fully wasted itself out in storms and cold and darkness. They are a sign, a beacon of hope. Asleep in the ground for the months of winter’s cold, at the appropriate time they fight their way to life, seemingly delicate and vulnerable. But what strength is seen in the first of spring’s flowers! Tiny things that should be crushed under what remains of winter, they prevail. Against all odds, they spring up here and there, bathing hillsides in the glory of springtime. They are the first glimmer of hope that winter won’t last forever, and that spring will truly come. There is life in the dead ground. There is warmth, and light, and growth.
IMG_8239eFirst there is one, then a couple, then dozens, then they’re everywhere. Spring has come. Winter is defeated.

How appropriate that they bloom at Easter time, hence the name “pasque,” having to do with the time of Passover, the time of deliverance. The “paschal lamb” was the sacrificial lamb of Passover, ultimately fulfilled in Christ, our once-for-all-time Paschal Lamb.

At Easter, we celebrate hope, the hope and certainty that our Salvation, our deliverance, is secure, through the paschal sacrifice of our Lamb of God, to redeem His people from their sins. The hope began with one man, amidst a storm of controversy and opposition, against which a mere man never could have prevailed. But the God-Man could. His ministry turned into a couple, then a dozen, then hundreds, confounding the religious elite of the day who did everything they could to crush His ministry. It seemed as if they’d succeeded, that gruesome day when they nailed Christ to the cross of crucifixion, a horrific instrument of torture. Christ, the God of the Universe, was slaughtered, brutally, willingly, voluntarily, in order to satisfy the Plan of eternity to save, to give hope, to change hearts, to reconcile sinners to God.

“There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain.”
IMG_8386eFor two dark days, His broken body was dead, buried, but on the morning of the third day, Christ defeated death. Against all human odds or laws of science, Christ broke the chains of death and returned in a glorified human body. Death was defeated.

“Then bursting forth in glorious day
Up from the grave He rose again!”

What began with one man has blossomed into millions, millions of tiny beacons of hope that light the darkness of this world, that give us hope that the darkness won’t last forever, that the winter of our souls can become springtime, that death can give way to life, that goodness can come from decay. No other religion or person or movement has ever rocked world history like Christianity, and no other worldview can boast the lives radically changed for the better, hatreds healed, hearts transformed. In spite of all opposition, Christianity has flourished for over two millennia. And where it is hardest pressed, there it blossoms the most gloriously. Each life changed by Christ is a testament to the truth of the Gospel, the hope that we have to be reconciled to our Heavenly Father, to have our sins forgiven, to have our hearts radically changed. We aren’t doomed to ourselves and our sins forever. There is hope.
IMG_8255eRemember that, when you see these first flowers of spring. They are a mini parable of how God works and has worked to bring about Salvation, to defeat death, to bring life and hope and peace and reconciliation.

 

“Hello, Old Scout!”

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Lots of memories were raked up and mulled over, over the last week and a half. Memories mostly of Grandma, but sweet memories of Grandpa surfaced as well, things I hadn’t thought of in years.

Pastor Walker was reminiscing at Grandma’s funeral, and with one phrase he brought back a flood of memories of my Grandpa, including how much I loved him. This one phrase was the first thing he said, every visit: “Hello, old scout!” he’d practically shout at me, or at my siblings, or at whomever it was who came into his line of sight. No matter that he said it to everyone, it always felt special, intentional. “Hello, old scout!” and he’d pull me into a crushing hug, or slap my shoulder. It was a signature phrase of his, and went right along with his squinty-eyed smile, eternal plaid shirts, tuneless whistling, limping gait with one shoe thick-soled because of a broken leg during the war, muscled arms and work-hardened hands.

Grandpa was a farm boy son of German immigrants, who grew up to be a combat veteran in World War II; a man who didn’t treasure his army decorations but let his kids play with them and lose them; a man who loved animals and loved the country, who built his house in the middle of his property on the hardest spot to access and in defiance of a friend’s advice, and was colorblind so bought a bright orange Jeep, thinking it would blend into the South Dakota landscape. He was a small town veterinarian in eastern South Dakota, with stories to rival the best of James Herriot. If only he had written a book. He sang in the church choir, was a rancher in the Hills in his retirement, had horseback accidents well into his 70s but walked home and was none the worse, and ultimately went out with his boots on – he died in his mid 80s of a heart attack checking cattle in his bright orange Jeep on a logging road that probably has a grade pushing 50% (and I’m actually not kidding) just after a massive thunderstorm. What a way to go, doing what he loved.He was a man who never retired. As a rancher in his “retired” years, he built fence, planted trees, built a log cabin, worked cattle, rode horse, continually worked at improving the land, and in short never quit doing work. Good, physical work. The above picture was taken by my uncle when Grandpa was well into his 80s. That’s what he looked like as a retired man. He was a man who loved to work. What a wonderful example, and I hope to imitate him in that.

In the time that I worked for Jack, the rancher who rents pasture from us, I’d meet people who’d hear my last name and ask, “Say, are you Doc Adrian’s granddaughter?” I loved that, absolutely loved that. Not that I could take any credit, but I was proud to be Doc Adrian’s granddaughter.

And what a legacy he left. Not only has he left a spiritual legacy, as a strong man of God, which is the best and most important legacy to leave, but if it hadn’t been for his financial wisdom in dealing with the success God blessed him with, we never would have come out to South Dakota. As it was, we had a place to move to, and that made all the difference. The beautiful family property is a huge part of what has given me a love of wandering, and some of my best memories have taken place around “the home place,” and new memories are created every time we explore.  I think he would be delighted to know that his granddaughters are living in the log cabin he built out of trees cut off the family ranch, and I think he’d love to know that I’m on the same fire department he was on.

I miss him. I didn’t realize how much until I was reminded of Grandpa’s greeting. Because somehow those three words and the way he said them summed him up. All his love and enthusiasm and enjoyment of life. “Hello, old scout!”

 

A New Soul in Heaven

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There is a new soul standing in the LORD’s presence, as of a few hours ago. My beautiful Grandmother is home. What brings heartache and tears to us is the best thing that could ever happen to a human being, to be ushered into Heaven and to see the LORD face to face. To be healed of pain. To be unbroken. To be renewed, fully. The infirmity of old age, gone. The fears of life, gone. The effects of sin and the battle against sin, gone. Conflict, gone. Uncertainty, gone. Grief, gone. The hope of Salvation, fully realized.

It is desperately hard to watch someone you love slowly deteriorate. It is hard to watch the process of a slow death that spans days and weeks. It is hard to see the physical body become more broken, until what remains is just a shadow of the person I knew as a child and young adult, the mind becoming confused, independence wholly lost. But now that Grandma is gone, I can more clearly remember her as she was a few years ago, in the prime of her old age, a vibrant, feisty, quiet woman and lover of the LORD, particular and orderly, who also loved to laugh and loved her family very much. I can remember her letters she sent when we still lived in Illinois, that always included crossword puzzles specifically picked for each grandchild, letters written in her graceful but spidery handwriting.

Grandma was a lover of beauty. God gifted her eyes to see beauty, and her home always reflected that. She kept an immaculate house, with simple and lovely furnishings, beautiful items picked up on her travels with my Grandfather, family heirlooms, cut flowers from her expansive garden, and the aromas from her kitchen. She opened her home graciously, to family, Bible studies, missionaries, friends, always the perfect hostess, and every meal was followed by a chipper, “Come again!” and a spunky smile.IMG_0250esmallOne of her greatest joys was flowers, and as she became less able to see them in person, unable to visit her cherished garden, she became the greatest supporter of my photography, and I could always count on sweet times with her, showing her my latest flower pictures, or recycling old ones just for fun as her memory grew more forgiving and the pictures were all always new. She would exclaim and admire over the color, the variety, and I was amazed by how eagerly she recognized these old friends even as other things became less clear.

She loved singing hymns, and whenever we sang as a family, she followed along and sang with us. The truths of those old hymns continued to resonate with her as she grew older, her faith becoming clearer, as this world became more dim. And as her inhibitions and reserve grew less, evidence of her faith became more visible.

All her life, she trusted Christ as her Savior. Seeing her at the end of her life, while sad, was encouraging. Her faith never wavered and the peace she had even as her body was deteriorating was a testament to the reality of her hope. Dad read Scripture with her every evening when he and Mom tucked her in to bed, and up until maybe a week ago, she could quote Psalm 23 right along with my Dad while he read it.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
    for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
    I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever. ~Psalm 23

What a gift, and what evidence of her Salvation, that what stayed with her to the end was her knowledge of her Savior.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison,  as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. ~ 2 Corinthians 4: 16-18

Grandma had this hope.

As my pastor has explained again and again, Biblical hope isn’t an “I hope so” hope, but a confident expectation. A confident expectation. Grandma knew where she was going when she died. If Heaven is the next step, the final step, what do we have to fear in this life, even death, even deterioration, even entirely losing one’s independence to the effects of old age? What are a few years of infirmity and pain, or a few months, or a few days, compared with the weight of the glory of eternity with Christ?

The Bible makes very clear that this earth is not our home. All of us have a limited number of days on this earth. And when our count of days comes to an end, those who love the LORD will find themselves ushered from this life into Heaven, to a more glorious, pleasant, joyful existence than anything our finite human brains can imagine. We will be ushered home.

Home. To earthly minds hungering for safety, belonging, security, love, peace, family, contentment, joy, relief of pain, things that can only be temporarily satisfied here on earth, if satisfied at all, that word may be bittersweet, or strike the heart with longing. But our Heavenly home and the One who resides there will satisfy us completely. Every longing will fall away. One of my favorite Scripture passages is from the book of Revelation, and it brings tears to my eyes, now in a different way:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:1‭-‬4

We ache for her, the ones left behind for now, but I’m so glad she is now without pain, or sorrow, or fear, any of the effects of this fallen world we live in. She is the privileged one, to be with the LORD, to have her hope satisfied and realized. I can see Grandma now, surrounded by such beauty only hinted at in the beauty she loved so much on this earth. God has wiped away her tears, but the tears of ecstatic joy I’m sure have abounded  and are flowing freely, if there are tears of joy in Heaven. There must be. Tears mingled with laughter. And Grandpa is there, and her brother, and her parents, all rejoicing in the presence of their King, in a home where the peace and joy won’t fade and the hymns won’t cease.

Home. What a beautiful word. And what a glorious reunion there will one day be.

In Hindsight | 2018

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Usually I publish my “In Hindsight” series right after the first of the year, as a sort of New Year’s post, a look back over the last year and a cherishing of the memories that were created. For one reason and another, I am just now getting around to finishing this article, but I wanted to publish it in spite of how late it is. It is a time to remind myself of the ways God has been faithful to me, the ways He has blessed me and humbled me and grown me, and a way to share the joy of the last year with people who may be interested or encouraged.

Looking back over 2018 confirms in my mind that it was indeed one of the strangest and most exciting years of my entire life. It was a full year, in the best of ways. Strange twists and turns of life, opportunities that God provided which I never would have seen coming, wonderful and frequent hiking excursions and a summer spent almost entirely outdoors, an opportunity to travel to Illinois to see my sister, Jess, new and old friendships blossoming with the freer schedule I had…It was a blessedly full year.

I’m in no ways living the life I dreamed of as a girl or even as a college student. I’m sure I’m a puzzle or even a disappointment to professors who may have envisioned (reasonably so) my career continuing where I left off with my education. Occasionally I refer to my “dream come true” life, and I just want to clarify that this life was nowhere on my radar even 5 years ago. But I’m seeing how God knows my deepest desires, even the desires I don’t fully understand, and how God has given them purposely and is intentionally satisfying them OR completely and radically changing them. Yes, God can do that. He is sovereign and can change our desires to bring about His will for our lives.

As a  younger individual, I idolized so many things. Success, marriage, recognition, a career in acting or music, a book published by age 25…God hasn’t given me any the success I dreamed of, the young marriage or the husband I’ve prayed for, the musical roles I craved. He hasn’t made me a published author or a celebrated actress or a fabulous singer or any of those things that my girlish heart idolized in highschool and college and which I pursued tirelessly. All of the things I imagined myself doing as a teen and a young twenty-something have not happened. Literally, none of those dreams have come true. And some of the things I swore I’d never do I am doing. I am NOT living the dream life I concocted for myself as a teenager or college student.

And that is all by God’s grace, to humble me, to bring me joy, to make me more like Christ. It is God’s grace to me that He didn’t give me worldly success, and didn’t satisfy my desire to have a book published by the age of 25, or to be competitive in the music industry. What grace. When I think of where I am now and how those dreams I had would never have allowed my life now to be possible, I’m in awe of God’s sovereignty. I could have chosen to stay in Illinois after graduating to pursue my music career. I could have chosen to pour all my effort into finishing a book and finding a publisher. I could have pursued marriage out of desperation and loneliness, and sacrificed the joy that Jesus has given me in my singleness. I could have sough high-pay employment with benefits and vacation time and status, enjoying the kinds of success I see from highschool or college classmates and family members who are working in prestigious jobs doing things for which they will probably one day be well known, maybe even famous, taking vacations and pursuing hobbies I couldn’t afford. I could have. I could be. But I know deep in my heart that I would have become entangled in a fast-paced lifestyle and in desires that wouldn’t have given the joy and contentment that my simple existence gives me now.

I’m not living my dream life. Truth be told, most of my highschool dreams have faded away, which is a bitter-sweet realization. And yet this life is more beautiful than I could ever have imagined, and it is a dream come true. In the place of the thirst for success and recognition I used to have, God has grown my heart in the desire to truly live, to feel real feelings, to be useful, to sweat, to weep, to laugh, to be sore and dead tired, to have a strong community and strong Christian relationships, to feel a deep joy that comes only from Christ.

God’s sense of humor…Once upon a time, I swore I’d never be a music teacher. In all reality, being a music teacher isn’t what I feel a strong desire to do. But I trust in God’s providence and this is what He has provided for the time being. But He also provided an opportunity (and the courage) to join our local fire department last year, a change I am endlessly thankful for, and God also provided a job at a local greenhouse and nursery this past summer, which was exceptionally refreshing after years of college and then working in an office (which also came to a close in April of last year). It clarified in my mind things I value about work – physical activity, physical challenge, fresh air, teamwork, community. And the schedule I had this summer allowed me to hike…and hike…and hike, discovering more how big my love for the outdoors actually is. And there is something blessedly and ridiculously comical as I think about having given a senior voice recital right before we moved to the Black Hills, and now I’m working for the local fire department as a stipend paid firefighter.

As wonderful as this last year was, it was definitely not without its struggles, and I absolutely do not want to fall into the social media trap of portraying myself as having the “perfect life.” Watching your grandmother die is a very sad thing. Loneliness is a very real feeling. Questions about the future lurk in the corners of my thoughts like little ugly goblins, as I begin playing the comparison game, seeing everything I don’t have and failing to see what I do have. And my struggles with depression returned pretty sharply and darkly at the end of the summer. I won’t dwell on any of these things, but those would be the prominent trials of this last year, for which God in His grace gives strength and endurance and healing and wholeness.  And pain is part of the story, which God uses in amazing ways to shape us. I look back on where I was at the end of 2017, or two years ago, or four years ago as I was finishing college, or longer, before college, and I just have to chuckle. God has a sense of humor. Where I am today makes absolutely no sense. And yet I know and feel that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, and somehow where I am does make perfect sense to me. I never would have pictured myself where I am now. And yet now that I’m here, I can’t picture myself anywhere else.

2018 was a great year. And I’m excited to see what the rest of 2019 has to hold.

 

The Fourth Year

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I missed the day by three weeks, but I couldn’t let this month go by without writing something. Four years and three weeks ago, this little cabin in the Hills became my home. Home. What a beautiful word!

It looked crazy to pretty much everyone who knew us, but the family decision to relocate to South Dakota is a decision I will never regret. God in His love and goodness satisfied a dream that had lived inside me since I was a child, but for years was forgotten. He didn’t need to do that, but He did. God in His goodness radically changed the direction I was headed, starting me in a new direction that hasn’t ceased to amaze me and bring me joy.
Winter beautyThese four years have been some of the most challenging of my life, and some of the richest. God has been stripping me of some heart idols, growing me spiritually, humbling me, teaching me about purpose and meaning and joy and adventure and delight and community and faith and courage. If you had told 20-year-old me what I’d be doing at 28, I would have laughed in your face. I wouldn’t have recognized me. And I probably would have been angry that the little wicked heart idols I was working on at 20 never went anywhere, and that 28 year old me doesn’t even miss them. Thank God for His patience and for the process of sanctification.

This place has gotten into my blood. The rocks and canyons and red dirt trails, the pines and spruces, the resiny air, the wildflowers and shenanigans, the mud and sweat and laughter.Sarah took this picture of me a few days ago while we were doing our Needles Highway hike. This is how the Hills make me feel. I wish I could throw my arms around all the goodness and joy and delight the last four years have brought. What a place. What a wonderful, amazing four years it has been.