Bittersweet Farm

It is sunset on the Lord’s Day out on Bittersweet Farm and my heart is peaceful. I taught my Sunday school class this morning, preached, visited shut-ins to sing hymns and share communion this afternoon and taught the teens this evening. Bethel Church just keeps growing every week. It is cool and beautiful out now as the sun slips from sight. I had no time for my usual nap so I should sleep well tonight. I will lie down soon, read some on my Kindle and then drift into slumber with a grateful soul. I’m a simple village parson and more and more that is all I inspire to be, a village parson who tells stories and writes books and loves quiet evenings on the porch and is easy to live with and really cares about his flock.

Stop the Car Before You Get Out

So this really happened. Got home a little after six and the sun was still high in the sky. I got an apple and took a little stroll around Bittersweet Farm. After a bit Lois came out and suggested we take a little drive to see if we can find some orange and vanilla swirl soft-serve ice cream.

We took the long way down country roads lush with growing things. Farmers are getting into their fields around here, getting crops in. It was a beautiful night.

I slowed to round a corner and suddenly Hope began to scream incoherently from the back seat. I couldn’t make out what she was saying at first. I slowed the car.

“You have a worm on your neck! A worm on your neck!”

Lois backed up against her door and began to scream… “Get it off. Get it off. Oh, no. Now it is on your ear.”

At this point she opens the car door…. yes, you read that right. The car is still moving and she opens the car door and starts to step out and then yells, “Stop the car, you’re going to kill me.”

I say; “Do you want me to stop the car first or get the worm off my face?”

I manage to roll down the window and toss the little green caterpillar out while I bring the car to a stop and Lois gets back into the car and closes the door.

No one got hurt. I think the little innocent worm may even have landed on his many feet, but my sides hurt from laughing.

We drive to a couple ice cream places and then we discover that God watches over Lois with a special love because the little place out on the edge of Homer is displaying the flavor of the week on a little sign out front: “Orange” and the good people kindly mix it with vanilla and we are home before dark to Bittersweet Farm… “Where every day is a beautiful day and the little light in the kitchen is always on.”

Bittersweet Farm
June 3, 2019

#onbittersweetfarm

It was gray today and it started with a nice cystoscopy (look that up. I’m not about to try to describe it). This all went down before breakfast, before coffee—now that is some good, clean, fun. The lady preparing me for this happy little experience asked me a series of questions and made little notes on a clipboard.

When she says: “How much do you weigh?” I quip; “That’s personal.”

She says; “Oh, it’s about to get REAL personal here in a minute.”

She and the doctor were efficient, professional and quick—so all that was good, plus when the good doctor finished probing around and mumbling under his breath he pronounced me healthy and said we don’t have to see each other for six months. I was happy, not that I don’t enjoy our little meetings. With the cystoscopy behind me I fairly skipped out to the car to commence my day and find a good, stout cup of coffee.

I put in a good solid day at Bethel and noticed while I was enjoying dinner with Hope that the sun had come out and the grass out on Bittersweet could be cut tonight. It’s been a wet spring and the grass is growing lush and long. Hope and I cut the lawn. Lois planted some bulbs given to us by folk from Bethel while I helped by watching from the porch. (Hey, I had a rough day). The lawn was restored to its parklike beauty. There is satisfaction in that.

It’s nice to think that I have a full day of work ahead of me tomorrow, a nice little solitary drive tomorrow evening, and a wedding rehearsal with some old friends, and no invasive procedures that are too embarrassing to describe.

Bittersweet Farm
May 29, 2019