Community within Humanity: filling another's cup while pouring out

Two things stand out to my heart as pillars from last week. Indeed, there were more, but these two things in particular are sort of tied together, yet uniquely different.

The first is a woman, in the range of seventy plus, who cannot have a variety of food ingredients, including vinegar. Searching for an organic, avocado based mayonnaise. At the end of the conversation, I gave her a recipe to make it herself without vinegar, using lemon juice instead.

The second, a woman in the range of twenty something, who began sharing that during cvid, she started learning how to cook from scratch. At home. This led to her desire to combat some of her health issues naturally, and that gave way to reading ingredients and the preparing of a proper pantry, and home canning.  Twenty minutes into the conversation came her confession of having so much to learn and feeling overwhelmed.

The heart of her husband safely trusts in her;

So he will have no lack of grain.

- Proverbs 31:11

The first lady came back to report that she had made her mayonnaise, and it worked. Her smile was as big as the door she held.  "It was good!" she added. With her finger pointed upward - "thank you. Thank you so much."

The second walked out the door with more local and online resources than she knew how to organize right then. She also had an open invitation to come back, anytime, for help. On both occasions my heart was swelling with joy. Why? Because I had the ability to help someone. Either by making mayonnaise or by encouraging a young wife to keep going. Keep searching. Keeping learning. Taking one thing at a time.

Her passion for pantry organization and learning to home can caused me tears of gratitude... it made me feel useful. Hopeful. Maybe even needed enough to pour into someone. It did my heart good. It did my heart good to see two separate generations searching for better. Desiring less of the system and less of the insecurities that we are fed. Both being willing to step out of the normalcy of convenience to possibilities endless.

It was so much more than mayonnaise. Much more than pantry organization. This was community investment. This was filling another's cup while pouring myself out.

In the Way: A Sage Brush Revelation

 My son passed away suddenly in November of 2020, just days after his twenty eighth birthday. From a series of poor choices and a bad case of mistaken identity. I don’t say this lightly, nor do I desire to be offensive. However, I refuse to sweeten the facts to make it easier for us all. Life is beautiful and so very precious. I don’t want to cheapen it. Our choices have consequences and seeds are sown with our actions. Redemption is messy and I believe we need to have hard conversations. But one of the best descriptions I have been able to find during this season of grieving is dryness. 

I would drive along this state, feeling like the terrain on which, my eyes scanned. Barren, dry, crumbly and oh how I longed for a Well Spring. Those New Spring rains. I knew that rain equals growth and without water, things die. I ached in sadness, in the what if's and in the regret. In soils of toxicity, damaging the roots. My roots. Normal, natural – yes, but not fruitful for my mind or my heart. Barren and dry. Not wanting to stand again and being so angry for the place I found myself. 

A few weeks prior to the Feast of Trumpets, I was sitting with my cow Tippy Margaret. She is a gift from God. A gift I tried to refuse. A gift He knew I needed. For her personality and for mine. I was there, sitting with her in a place called Betty Gulch, or what the good old boys call “the high and dry.” Knowing it had been some time since I felt like my prayers had feeling, depth if you will - when I spoke them. In a place, where it had been some time since my Bible readings hit my heart and shook my soul. Sometime since I fed what needed feeding, as I was slowly growing the hardening of a vessel. Looking back now, the most of what I remember there, was the clinging grip I had on my God. On my Redeemer. That literal I know not what the next moment will feel like, and I definitely didn’t want to feel anything. I remember how that place concerned me and wondering if I was gonna make it through this one. It was only by the Grace of God.

 I remember sharing this with my husband, just sobbing trying to find the best description of what I truly felt like inside. I turned my head and stated firmly that I feel like THAT! That sagebrush, as I pointed. Yes, just plain old sagebrush. Nothing fruitful, I didn’t like it and I didn't want to be here. In this place of hard and of hurt. I didn't desire the dry, but I knew nothing on how to fix it. I didn’t know how to fight it. 

I asked God at least a hundred times to help me, to bring the rain... for a new Well Spring. It felt as if He was silent to me. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months and then one night between the cow chewing alfalfa and miles of sagebrush, Abba gave me a gift. Something ignited. Sagebrush.

 Sagebrush may not be a gift at first look, but did you know the evergreen shrub is able to thrive in extremely diverse environments, with its double root system and unique branches and leaves. The first root system lies just beneath the shallow soil. Allowing the plant to soak up sudden rainfall and meltwater before it evaporates. The second root system, the longer and tougher roots push deep into the earth, searching for underground water sources. The holding on roots. 

Sagebrush has both vegetative and reproductive branches, leafy with small yellow blossoms... that bloom in late summer and early fall. When most plants are preparing for winter, the sagebrush is just getting started. After the seeds ripen, the reproductive branching dies – but remains on the main shrub for another year. 

Sagebrush is a survivor, some have been recorded to be a hundred years old. It tends to thrive in areas damaged by overgrazing and over trodden. The leaves have a distinct aroma, and were used by tribal people for a myriad of reasons. Sagebrush. Something I never knew so much about, both academically and now, in the form of God answering my dried heart. In the way He knew I would hear. In the way He knew I would feel. Clouds and Rain began to form. 

The day before we honored Yom Teruah, we were out in the high and dry again. Listening to the cow chew her alfalfa. I was resting on a bucket, leaning against the gate, when I looked over and observed the most beautiful yellowed up sagebrush I have ever seen. Partly, I am sure, was due to the new angle from which I was viewing the world. Another gift, in the form of a promise. 

There will be dry and trying hurts, there will be times of barren and lack fruit luster. Seasons of scarce new shoots and drought. These are seasons and not permanent, even those at times it will feel like the season will never end. Can I tell you that I am now singing in the spring rain? No. Not a full on twirl. But, I am not dry inside… God has answered, and He is faithful. 

I have read these verses so many times, Isaiah 44:1 - 4, even now tears come. I used to think willows were so far away from being like sagebrush. Now not so much, anymore. Do I think these revelations came around Holy days by accident, absolutely not. I know the Almighty divinely disclosed to my heart something I needed, something I asked for… in order to prepare me for the next season. 

This is the time to prepare for rain, the early and latter rains.

Simple Sweet Potato Biscuit Recipe

I remember a few years back, when we were living in a friends camper and running produce in southern Kentucky : being invited to share in a Thanksgiving Dinner with new family & friends. She had a family tradition, Sweet Potato Biscuits - actually she had a few traditions. That was one of the things I loved about her, her strong love of family, traditions and God. 

She paid cash for everything, loved to knit and shared heart felt truth by the little light. My husband would bring in the nightly firewood, add a few logs and we would gather around and converse. Just converse and be. I never look at a sweet potato without remembering her, and our time there. 

Well there was the time I had sweet potato ice cream in southern Tennessee...

Simple Sweet Potato Biscuits

5 cups flour - maybe a little less, or a little more - depending on the type of flour

4 t baking powder

1 stick butter

3 cups cooked and mashed sweet potato

Directions: blend the first three ingredients, in a large bowl, using a pastry blend or fork. Then add the three cups of mashed, cooled, sweet potatoes and mix well - with your hands. Shape into biscuits, about one inch think and place on baking sheet. 

Bake at 425 for 15 to 20 minutes, or until done. Remove the biscuits from the baking sheet and serve slightly warm with butter and/or maple syrup. These taste the best with people gathered around.

Her biscuits will always look better than mine, and probably always taste better too, but the season of my life that they represent is pure swelling joy. So even if my pictures were snapped in haste and my recipe posts will never make a cookbook... that is alright with me. I have the memory, that bonded connection... and the ability to pass on a tradition.

Five Ways to Honor God in the Garden

The Scriptures contain multiple verses pertaining to the acts of sowing & reaping, of harvesting and of cultivation. Of caring for the fatherless, the widow and the orphan. The poor or for those in need. They also share a part of YHVH's heart as a gardener, a farmer, a sower and... as a reaper. I have learned many biblical principles from the act of gardening and I believe that gardening can be another way to serve and minister to others.

Over the years I have attempted to honor various commands and principles in different ways. Today I am sharing some of the them with you. This is by no means the only way or the best way to serve God with your garden. Just some simple ideas that can really make a difference.

1. When You Harvest Your Field: often times when my gardening season is winding down, I wait as along as possible to pull the beds and get them ready for the winter. Reserving all the remaining produce up to the first frost for the poor, the sojourner, or anyone who may be in need.

"And when you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field right up to its edge, nor shall you gather the gleanings after your harvest. You shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner: I am the LORD your God.” - Leviticus 23 : 22

2. Leave Some For the Poor & Sojourner: invite those in need, and who are able - to come and glean from your fields. Set up a time or a special day for them and invite people into your garden, allow them to glean and assist them personally if needed.

"When you reap the harvest of your land, you are not to reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You must not strip your vineyard bare or gather its fallen grapes. Leave them for the poor and the sojourner. I am the LORD your God." - Leviticus 19 : 9 - 10

3. Intentionally Plant Extra with the Purpose of Giving to Those in Need: go ahead and plant an extra row, or a few extra plants. From which all of the fruit thereof will be for those who need it. An extra row of lettuce or beets, a few extra tomato plants really do not add much to the work.

4. Bless Those Who May Need an Extra Hand: sometimes mothers, those whom are ill or the elderly may need an extra hand. I have had the privilege of knowing a few, who would love fresh produce or a loaf of homemade bread. Make sure it would be a blessing if you give them a basket of produce - by cleaning it well - ahead of time. This way you are not accidentally creating more tasks for them. Gift it use-able.

"If you are harvesting in your field and forget a sheaf there, do not go back to get it. It is to be left for the foreigner, the fatherless, and the widow, so that the LORD your God may bless you in all the work of your hands." - Deuteronomy 24 : 19

5. When Putting Food Up: along the same line, if you are canning twenty five quarts of tomatoes add another two or three. This is easier if you intentionally planted extra and blessing someone with fresh, home canned - garden goods is truly a labor of love. You could even attach a packet of saved seeds from your garden.

"Consider this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously." - 2 Corinthians 9 : 6

I am sure there are many more ways to honor God with our gardens, and true to His word if we set our hand to this task, He will bless the work. It is also a wonderful way to build community.

A Farmer of Faith :: I would like to be

Let's do a little defining. You see I believe words matter, as does their definitions. I also believe we have lost a lot of depth in our modern culture and not just with words and languages.

When I ask someone to define the word farmer, or to explain to me what the word faith means... the responses are all over the board. If we could take the time to look up the word, let's say... in the 1828 Dictionary, we often will find that there is more to the word that we should consider.

The word farmer for example is: "a tenant, a lessee; one who hires and cultivates a farm; a cultivator of leased ground. One who takes taxes, customs, excise or other duties, to collect for a certain rate per cent; as a farmer of the revenues. One who cultivates a farm; a husbandman, whether a tenant or the proprietor. In mining, the lord of the field, or one who farms the lot and cope of the king."

Another example, is the word faith. Faith is defined as: "to trust; to persuade, to draw towards any thing, to conciliate; to believe, to obey. Belief; the assent of the mind to the truth of what is declared by another, resting on his authority and veracity, without other evidence; the judgment that what another states or testifies is the truth. In theology, the assent of the mind or understanding to the truth of what God has revealed. Simple belief of the scriptures, of the being and perfections of God, and of the existence, character and doctrines of Christ, founded on the testimony of the sacred writers..."

Faith continued: "justifying, or saving faith is the assent of the mind to the truth of divine revelation, on the authority of God's testimony, accompanied with a cordial assent of the will or approbation of the heart; an entire confidence or trust in God's character and declarations, and in the character and doctrines of Christ, with an unreserved surrender of the will to his guidance, and dependence on his merits for salvation. In other words, that firm belief of God's testimony, and of the truth of the gospel, which influences the will, and leads to an entire reliance on Christ for salvation.

The faith of the gospel is that emotion of the mind, which is called trust or confidence, exercised towards the moral character of God, and particularly of the Savior. Faith is an affectionate practical confidence in the testimony of God. Faith is a firm, cordial belief in the veracity of God, in all the declarations of his word; or a full and affectionate confidence in the certainty of those things which God has declared, and because he has declared them." ~ 1828 Webster's Dictionary/in part

There was much more to the definition of faith, but I am sure you can see my point. So what does being a farmer of faith mean? To me : it is the hope, it is my active faith : in the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob... being Redeemed of Jesus/Yeshua, to cultivate the land around me for my King.

To weed what needs weeding, to water the dry grounds and prepare the soil. To care for and assist, to be a light in the dark place. To hold on and never let go, to grow forgiveness, feed on truth and blossom in radical love. To create a safe haven in the physical and in the spiritual, to offer a garden of grace and foundation for the laws of God.

Yes, I want this in my life.
For me, and for those around me.

I know well - that farming is hard work and Redemption is messy. Or what it is like to thirst for the waters of living water, to choke on the meat of the Word and to swallow a camel while straining a gnat. I also know what it is like to receive earth shaking forgiveness and to be washed white... so much so it tore the veil in half.

I would like to be called a faith farmer, a collector of hope... an example of the work He has done and is doing... what about you? Will join me in being a farmer of faith?

The 1801 :: up north and raw

In the north, the place of my growing up years, where maple trees fill almost every road side and two tracking is still popular. Providence brought me another set of skills gleaned and new lessons to learn.

Meet the 1801.

Where a little one runs through the hills barefoot and eats of berry patches freely. Where its normal to see her playing in the watering tank and climbing to heights that still make me gasp. Where chickens are hatched by the workings of the Creator, one clutch after another. The 1801, a farm in the making, with hopes of sustainable independence and growth.

Here, I milk for milk. Where I became fond of goats. Where I was able to perfect an udder balm that is marketable and share some of my herbal learning. Where I tasted raw goat cheese, butter and yogurt... and this is where we learned how to change the rotors on the jeep.

The 1801, a place skilled in the art of reuse it. Selling chicken eggs and fire wood bundles. Where home birth and mid-wives are welcomed, land foraging and heirloom seeds abound. Where I gleaned the ins and outs of community gardening as well.

It is where green house usage, planting for market gardening and getting a honest idea on how much land we would really need entered my dream. I became more aware of what I am capable of and what I am not, reminded often that I only have two hands and twenty four hours in a day.

I educated in the concept of pacing myself.

Here I am, with this desire... sometimes feeling like I was born to put my hands in the dirt. It will not go away, nor will the desire remain silent, and doing nothing... feels like something is starving.

Shalom in the South :: home of healing hospitality

Residing on a farm in middle Tennessee, I gleaned more than just practical how to. Being surrounded by fellowship and wide open spaces a healing began to happen from the inside out. Now don't think for one minute it was all rose hips and wine, but rather a true healing and growing {s.t.r.e.t.c.h.i.n.g.} happened there.

Meet Shalom in the South.

With her, I was able to cultivate more of my agrarian heart and add to my skills... were I learned to enjoy composting toilets, embraced an outside kitchen, and where we became really good at taking cover for Tornado warnings in the middle of cooking dinner.

It's where I learned to milk a cow, about banding horns, and birthing. Making maple syrup, late night guinea hen round ups, the butchering of sheep and the intensity of a Jersey bull. It's where ticks become nothing to have convulsions over and humidity was just the way it is.

Shalom in South, taught me to choose to over come and do it. To laugh again... pray hard... to sing as loud as your heart desires. Trust me, when I say on any given day, there was a song on every tree... it's where Sunday work days took on a whole new meaning, and where food preservation increased by triple volumes.

It's where I rekindled an appreciation for a wood stove, quality muck boots and strong denim. Where oil lamps and wagon wheels were normal, where I learned to say y'all and how to cross a creek just to get to my friends house. Where I learned about creek stompin, chicken and waffles, and just how peaceful a white rocking chair can be.

It's where I learned how to love through the hard parts. Where I met people who actually thrive off grid, and where I saw first hand what a community can do for those who are in need. Where I learned to appreciate a home made truffle and a great cup of coffee.

Knowing Tom :: gateway to the road home

Though I was raised running through mud chasing cows, not every thing carries with you into adulthood. However, this strong desire to run bare foot through  the grass, pick and glean every useful berry, root, fruit and leaf. To do it myself. To husband animals and grow a life wrapped in the rhythms of the Creator's calendar and seasons... was weaved into who I am becoming.

Ever have one those nights, where you sit and ask yourself  'how did we ever get to this place'? Then self starts remembering all the events that brought you to this place, and you find yourself still awake at three in the morning...

Meet Tom.

Tom was a grand introduction, actually I believe it was Providence. So many homesteading skills were gleaned from knowing Tom, and it was he who inspired me to turn my entire backyard into a garden, add chickens and re-ignited my flame of learning how to market garden.

It was also during that season, when we went door to door on a back country road looking for raw milk. Yes. True Story. Picture with me - a mini van, two ladies and four children of various ages all seeking 'white' gold and knocking on doors like we were selling cookies. It was Tom who sent us on that chase... and yes, we were blessed for our efforts. Raw goats milk for a season.

Tom also taught us how to butcher chickens, hoe long rows, prep for farmers markets, and what 'not to do' for organically grown produce and the importance of knowing your soil. This was also when I become passionate about Non GMO, having a serious dislike for Monsanto and Round Up... and became hound dog on intent to find another source for raw milk.

Later came my involvement in a whole foods co-op, a raw milk share and serving at a local church's healthier food store. Sold chicken eggs, tortillas and home made bread, gleaned wild plums and learned to can with a pressure cooker. Part of my daughters home school curriculum was to raise a four by four plot of red winter wheat, thresh the grain and grind it by hand and produce an edible.

I will never forget that dinner, we all sat there after grace staring at the bountiful table with hearts filled with gratitude. There before us, table laid was home made butter, fresh biscuits and chicken soup... and the only part of the meal that we did not raise ourselves was the milk for the butter. 

We felt like we had reached a huge success in our lives, accomplished a high set goal and I think that will always be the best meal we have ever eaten, in flavor and in joyfulness.

Yes, knowing Tom, fanned the flame of what lay in my being... rekindled the childhood memories, the clothes line, my desire to learn how to sew and knit, make candles, render tallow and create home remedies...  and even though it was not Tom who taught me all those things, or even shared in each memory. It is who comes to mind first. When I ask myself ~ how did I arrive here?

Highwinds Homestead :: a journey introduction

Hi There! I wanted to take a moment to make an introduction. Welcome to the Highwinds Homestead. The name was chosen for a couple of reasons really - but residing at an elevation of 6,755 feet and where the wind blows the majority of the year greatly impacted the name of our homestead.

We have a growing zone of 4 -5b, an average rainfall of nine and a quarter inches a year and mountain lions and rattlesnakes do come to town.

these were grown at 3,743 feet

I firmly believe that being a homesteader is so much more than location and land ownership. I believe it involves the heart, mind and soul. Creating an opportunity for one to reconnect to the Creator of this place... and all that is in it. I also believe children should play in the mud and the rain, know where their food comes from and the effort it takes to produce it.

Isaiah said it this way "but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." When we first arrived here, the wind was something... it still is, but this verse came to mind... along with the name. It fit us... it fit me... and it has a special meaning that I am sure is still being revealed.

This blog is a journal of sorts, a sharing of our journey... of how I arrived to this heart place. I hope you will join me and maybe glean a little faith cultivation or find some collections of hope. Either way, I pray this is a growing place and I am grateful you stopped by.