Shelter. It’s one of the basic human needs along with food, and water. Clothes are also on the list (thankfully).  If you’ve ever watched a show where people are dropped in a harsh environment in the middle of nowhere to fend for themselves, the first thing they usually do is build a shelter.
     A fond childhood memory is my best friend and I building a clubhouse. “Build” might be an exaggeration. We mostly just turned a giant cardboard box upside down and hid under it. When an airplane flew over we’d race to the safety of our shelter so as not to get bombed. Maybe it was simply child’s play? Or maybe it was from watching the war drama series MASH which aired on our single channel TVs? Or maybe we’d seen a history video at school? Some of you might remember school drills in the 1950’s called “Duck and Cover” where students dove under their desks and covered their heads in case of an atomic bomb attack. The education system had stopped training that survival tactic by the time Paula and I went through elementary school, but the point is, for whatever reason, we two little girls with big imaginations recognized the basic human need for shelter and leaned into it. Psalm 55:8 “I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm.”
     Caves and rocks, used as shelters since the beginning of time, have proved notably more substantial than cardboard. My ancestors actually lived in a cave until their house was built. And when my mom and her mother, who was also her teacher, walked three miles to Beulah School, they’d take shelter under overhanging rocks to get out of the rain. Job 24:8 “They are wet with the rain of the mountains, and cling to the rock for want of shelter.”
     One year, Uncle Jack made a gigantic tent to shelter two families because we all wanted to be together and save money while vacationing at Kings Island amusement park. He sewed several yards of canvas on an industrial army-grade sewing machine, and while the structure itself was sound, it had no floor. All eight of us slept directly on the ground. During the night, my mom kept fussing with bugs and she was sure we would all be infested with ground fleas, but in the morning light she discovered her pillow was squarely in the middle of an ant trail! Overall we were grateful our tent had provided some protection, as the writer of Psalms 61:4 understood on a grander scale—“Let me dwell in thy tent forever! Oh to be safe under the shelter of thy wings.”
     And there was biblical Jonah. He reluctantly delivered a plan of salvation to the wicked people in Nineveh… and in Jonah chapter four, we see him still stewing. He went to the outskirts of the city and made himself a shelter to sit and watch for the destruction he hoped God would send. The sun was scorching hot so God had a vine grow up over the hut and provide cooling shade. This vine became a tool God used to teach Jonah about His compassion. God’s shelter is always better.
     When the enemy attacks like a prowling lion, the cardboard box some of us have been hiding in is not going to be enough. Not even a tent or roadside rock is a match for some of life’s “bombs”. The good news is: God, Himself, is a shelter for us to run to for protection when the storms of life rage, or the heat of the moment is scorching us, or if we are afraid.  Isaiah 25: 4 describes the Glory of God as a refuge for the poor, a stronghold for the needy in his distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat. May we all find that kind of Shelter.
 

       My feet were planted in thick sticky mud, while the gym bag and heavy backpack cut into my sunburned shoulders. I was positioned at the finish line of a Spartan race waiting for my niece and her boyfriend to come into view. There was already victory in the air for those who dared even enter this grueling 5K endurance course, which involved difficult obstacles and excessive amounts of mud. The final obstacle was a row of fire, occasionally stoked with a spray of orange flammable substance some guy squirted out of a plastic water bottle. I watched as some finishers crossed the fire as a group holding hands. There were father/son,  mother/daughter, or couple duos. Others were alone. A few came limping in, barely able to lift their feet one last time to clear the flames. There was an impressive young buck who amazed us cheering spectators by doing a backflip over the fire with a big grin! It might have been the heat from the sun or the fire, but as I watched the endless stream of mud-covered weary warriors straggle in, I began to think about the FINAL finish line…how are we running the race of life and how will we cross the finish line at the end of it…
     Admittedly, I’m not a big fan of running. When farm life required running, it was seldom enjoyable. We desperately raced to get hay bales in the barn before the sky came through on its threat of rain. And we ran when the cows got out or we had to move wayward sheep. My most impressive sprint occurred when the water snake we threw rocks at chased us. There was minimal satisfaction running around the perimeter of the cow pasture listening to Prince on my store brand “Walkman”, conditioning for the high school track team. Watching where I was going and dodging cow patties was in itself a good life lesson…
     In the car coming home from the Spartan, my niece and her boyfriend shared details about their race experience, which I wrote down immediately because they were so good!. For example, they said “Those sand bags we had to carry were as heavy as sin!” Prophetic words! Sin is actually heavy. “Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.” (Hebrews12:1)
     They also explained how if you chose not to do a difficult obstacle challenge, then you did the designated penalty. There are consequences for our decisions. Galatians 6:7 says “Do not be deceived. God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap.” 
   While everyone had to carry their own individual sandbag in the Spartan, my niece’s boyfriend often helped pull struggling racers up the slick muddy A-frame obstacles. He would also grab hold of the structure and once he was stabilized, my niece who was a few steps higher, could rest on his shoulders. It reminded me of how we need to stabilize ourselves and “bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2)
     When people ran in the Bible it was usually soldiers running into battle, messengers carrying news, or people fleeing danger. Peter and John ran to the tomb after the resurrection. And in Luke 15 a father ran to greet his prodigal son in an act of love and forgiveness. Likewise Jesus takes our shame and offers us forgiveness when we repent. Sin (imperfection) is a huge obstacle, but God makes a way--one way-- over it.
     We will all cross the finish line one day, maybe limping or doing a backflip. As we run, if we can keep our eyes on the Prize (Jesus), we might even get to say my Grandpa Nelson’s favorite Bible verse:  2 Timothy 4:7 “I fought the good fight, I finished the course, I have kept the faith.”
 
 
 

       I only saw one glorious pink lady slipper in my first 50 years and I still remember the spot down Hemlock Lane where it was, so you can imagine my delight a few years ago when we discovered a woodland patch of about 100!  I felt like an Appalachian Cinderella looking at all those extraordinary slippers. Except it wasn’t a fairytale—it was God giving us unexpected blessings, once again in abundance.
     The older I get the more I say “It’s amazing how....” Things that fill me wonder are: My grandma Olga Balli Harris walking three miles each way to teach school-- when she was pregnant! And how God organized a beautiful and unexpected love story between two of my good friends, and He strengthens the faith of a cousin who is fighting cancer. I recall my dad using water to demonstrate how a coal miner’s carbide headlamp could be lighted! (Calcium Carbide generates acetylene gas when reacting with water, which is still amazing no matter how old you are.)
    Remember the old-time Continuous Cloth Roll Towel Machines that used to be in every school or gas station bathroom? I was telling my kids about them and with each detail their eyes widened in amazement.  The contraption involved about 100 feet of actual cloth fed through a little slot. Most of us assumed the 4 feet visible loop was recycled through instead of replaced periodically with a new clean one. You had to avoid the brown stains and the middle part of the dangling loop which was always wet. We didn’t question the possibility of mildew accumulating up inside the metal germ box, and we didn’t know what to do with the inevitable 8 foot loop that occurred when the roller gears broke, but I’m pretty sure some kids swung on it.  At the end of the day, it probably boosted our immune systems…and was probably more planet friendly than using paper towels.  Good or bad, it was still amazing.
          Things can also be amazing that are not at all wonderful but are merely surprising:  I’m amazed I met a person recently that is in their 30’s and has never heard any semblance of the Gospel or good news of salvation through Jesus. I’m amazed that people throw litter out their car windows.  And just this week I was astounded by a headline telling how a drunk man accidentally became part of a search party and was hours into the hunt before he realized the man they were looking for was actually himself! 
     Scriptures hold many truly amazing moments.  Imagine the Israelites after crossing the Red Sea:  “You should have seen it!  Great walls of water were on each side of us and the ground beneath our feet was dry! And the crowd assembled watching Elijah prove Yahweh was the one true God:  “First the old man taunted the prophets of baal, and said they might want to chant louder as perhaps their god was sleeping!  Then he poured precious water on the altar –in a drought nevertheless! But then it got even more spectacular—he prayed to his God and fire fell from Heaven and decimated the drenched altar and sacrifice!  And then rain came.  It was incredible!”
    Scripture records Jesus feeling amazement two times.  Imagine the God of the universe being amazed!  One time was in Matthew 8:5-13 telling about the faith of the Centurion and the other time in Mark 6:1-6 describing the lack of faith of the people living in Nazareth. Our faith and our lack of faith amaze Him.
     Luke 18:8 poses the question, “…when the Son of Man cometh, shall he find faith on earth?”  Midnight is coming but it’s not a fairytale, and this Appalachian Cinderella has to wonder if Jesus will be amazed at our faith? Or will He be amazed that we are still stumbling around like the drunk man looking for ourselves? 
 

 Sometimes it’s easy to take things for granted --like running water for example. When my mom was growing up, they had to use the hand pump on the back porch to get their water. They kept a bucket inside on a little table with a ladle in it. Family and even guests would all drink from that same ladle. Water leftover from the drink would get poured into a basin next to the bucket that would later become a place to wash their hands. Mom shared a story about their uncle John Balli who stayed and helped with farm work for a time. As was common he used the ladle and basin method to wash his hair. Mom and her sister Hilda would run up behind him and tip the ladle so water would run down his back and get his shirt all wet. While they thought it was hilarious, he did not. They didn’t heed his multiple warnings and they eventually got spanked, after which Mom said they didn’t do that trick anymore.
     One of the most interesting elements of that story is that everybody drank from the same ladle. On this side of the COVID-19 pandemic, it’s unimaginable to share a drinking vessel. Besides the possibility of saliva residue causing a plethora of sicknesses like the cold, hepatitis, strep throat, mumps, mono, cold sores, and meningitis, there is always the probability of dreaded backwash. I still get backwash shivers from when my kids were little. They ate a lot of crackers which made them thirsty, and they always asked to share my water!  After their first swig, the water would be polluted with bits and pieces of half-chewed crackers. And one time when I took a water break from being a nurse to my daughter who had the flu, I suddenly realized I was drinking from her germ-laden water glass. You can imagine the depth of my despair and sensitivity about sharing drinking vessels.
     It seems like as I get older I’m thirstier than I used to be. Most studies agree that older people do need to drink more water to help regulate changes in body temperature. (Can I get an amen from anybody on that one?)  Staying well hydrated also helps keep you regular, helps with various medicines, and prevents muscle pain, tiredness and heat exhaustion. When I was growing up, we only drank when we were thirsty. But in today’s world, health institutions recommend we drink eight glasses or up to a gallon every day! Carrying around a water bottle, even though it’s inconvenient, is now so commonplace some people call them their “emotional support water bottles”.
     The most important water we need a good daily dose of is the living water Jesus offered the Samaritan woman in John 4.  It was in the heat of the day when the shunned woman had to go get water alone. By all cultural norms Jesus should never have been talking to her let alone ask her for a drink –she was a female and worse yet a Samaritan. Not only did he lift her up out of her shame like her bucket of water coming out of Jacob’s Well, but He chose her as the first person to whom He actually revealed his identity as Messiah! And much like sharing the back porch water bucket, He showed He loved her enough to drink from the same ladle. She then went and told the townspeople about Him and many of them believed. Imagine a personal encounter with the Messiah and being excited about your faith like a wellspring inside you bubbling up and refreshing others. John 4:14 “but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” Let’s all drink more Water…

 Springtime of my youth meant there would be little girls and pet lambs running through the house, much to the delight of my grandpa who sat alert at his post on the couch guarding a spittoon between his feet.  We were quite a sight in long prairie dresses mom made with flouncy ruffles at the bottom.  The fabric had a patriotic bicentennial pattern of liberty bells and eagles and my cousins were so proud of theirs they even wore the matching bonnets to school on picture day, because nobody told them years later they might regret that. Sometimes we’d dress up the pet lambs too but they weren’t nearly as fancy. One can imagine active little feet and bouncing lamb hooves galloping deliriously back and forth from the kitchen to the living room and how naturally Pap’s spittoon would get spilled occasionally. It wasn’t long before mom quickly made Pap trade his proper brass one for a more practical one repurposed from a big Maxwell House coffee can, complete with a plastic lid that had to be placed on when he got up from his post. I’ve been seeing several of those blue coffee cans with bold letters at antique shops lately and the memories of Pap and his springtime spectacle are welcomed back in an instant.
    Another caffeinated memory is getting up early before dad went to work and there would be coffee gurgling in the stainless steel percolator.  Occasionally the hot brown nectar would bubble up into the clear glass knob on the lid. Mom and dad would enjoy a cup and then she’d pour the rest in his beat up green Stanley thermos to revive him later when he and the other woodsmen took a much needed break.  It’s amazing how I can still imagine the comforting smell of Dad’s lunch box…a blend of sandwiches, coffee, freshly dug ginseng roots, and chainsaw grease.
     The legend of coffee goes way back to ancient Africa where a goat herder saw his goats having erratic behavior after spending time in a patch of coffee bean bushes…and then decided to try them himself.  His experiment seems risky, but look at us today! There is a coffee shop in every respectable town. And just imagine if the ten virgins awaiting the bridegroom in Matthew 25: 1-10 had been drinking coffee they might have all stayed awake and realized five still needed to obtain more lamp oil.  And if the disciples had tried taking a thermos of coffee with them to the Garden of Gethsemane that night, maybe they would not have fallen asleep when Jesus told them to stay awake and keep watch with him and pray as recorded in Matthew 26:36-46.  “And he came and found them asleep again: for their eyes were heavy.”  
     I don’t like coffee but I do enjoy drinking tea…And when I needed to stay alert driving home from Ohio to WV after teaching school on Fridays, a Mt. Dew and a Three Musketeers bar were my go to.  (I’m not proud of that, but it was part of my story).  Honestly, now caffeine is not the thing I need to stay awake at this stage in my life…often it’s just self-control and willpower.  If I can put away the phone and stop scrolling on reels, I can get upstairs and have time to say meaningful prayers before bed.  If I can turn off the TV, I’ll have a better night’s rest and feel more refreshed in the morning…Can I get an amen?
     Of course the main lesson in Jesus’ parable about the unprepared virgins running out of lamp oil, and the recording of the disciples falling asleep in the garden was less about physically staying awake and more about being “soul ready” at all times because we don’t know the hour or the minute He will return.  Even now there might be something percolating.

      I love phrases from scriptures like “Saddle the Donkey!” which means to get ready, I’m about to go somewhere with purpose. And isn’t “resting with the fathers” a beautiful way to say someone has passed on into eternity? The latest phrase I’ve latched onto is “and you will always eat at my table.” 
     Its appeal is not merely because I love to eat, but rather the meaning behind the phrase. In 2 Samuel 9:7 King David comforts his best friend’s son who was lame in both feet. “And David said unto him, Fear not: for I will surely shew thee kindness for Jonathan thy father’s sake and will restore thee all the land of Saul thy father; and thou shalt eat bread at my table continually.”  …Protection and provision. David used this phrase again near the end of his life, giving his son Solomon political advice on how to rule the kingdom. He named some people who were to be eliminated, while others were to be shown kindness which he indicated with “…let them be of those who eat at thy table.” (1 Kings 2:7)
     Country folks genuinely appreciate sharing a table. It might be extended family around a giant potluck table 20 feet long. It might be enjoying hotdogs and s’mores around a campfire under the stars, or Sunday dinner when the pastor and family gather together at Nana's farmhouse. And on warm days the table can turn into a picnic blanket in the back yard or a rock down by the river. Recently the Jerry Run Church in Hacker Valley enjoyed a meal together. This time the menu was unique to go along with the sermon topic of “Wild Things” (sermon link is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-bJVUPgiaY.) Congregants enjoyed elk burgers, venison, buffalo meatballs, and cornbread made from homegrown and ground corn. More importantly, the table was shared by brothers and sisters in Christ and fellowship fed their souls.
     During one of my treasure hunting adventures at GoodWill, I picked up a book called My Last Supper featuring famous chefs, each one answering the same questions: What would your last meal consist of? Who would you eat it with? Where? Readers instinctively contemplate their own answers.  Some might say $1000 golden tomahawk steak at a ritzy restaurant in Manhattan. Others might choose fried bologna sandwiches, with homegrown green beans and tender new potatoes dug straight out of the dirt a little too early, or Mom’s homemade pies with mile high meringue. No matter what would be on the menu, you can bet we’d be dining with family and friends.
     Leonardo Da Vinci gave us a visual of the most impactful meal ever shared. On a wall in Italy he painted the scene of Jesus’ last supper with the disciples as recorded in all four Gospels. The meal took place in an upper room in the city of Jerusalem during Passover, and the guests were His closest friends. We’re not told what the menu was except for bread and wine, which Jesus shared with instructions to eat and remember His broken body and blood poured out for us. We do this when we take communion (Eucharist) …”and thou shalt eat bread at my table continually.”
     As believers we look forward to another epic meal.  In Matthew 22:1-14 and Luke 14:16-24 Jesus describes the kingdom of heaven like a wedding banquet. He is the groom, who in Jewish tradition went away to prepare a home and then returned for his bride. When he returns for us, there will be a celebration like none other. Each and every one of us has received a V.I.P. invitation but only those who are clothed in the symbolic redemptive garment God provides through Jesus to cover our sins will be allowed to enter. Oh how I long to hear those words spoken by The King, “Let them be of those who eat at thy table.”
 

  “Let’s go in—it’ll be fun!” my husband said enthusiastically. Totally forgetting about the time he (along with our beagle) almost turned the family walk into a rescue mission, I grabbed the back of his shirt and we entered the house of mirrors.  It was fun in the beginning, looking at endless choices of decorative arched hallways in every direction. We bumped into a few mirrored walls and laughed as we kept turning around, trying different paths. But the fun wore off in five minutes and I began to get claustrophobic. The only thing saving me was holding onto my husband’s shirttail and trusting him to get us out.  Him…and the little kid we started following. We’d see this curly blond head flash past one mirrored panel and then pop out from behind another. He was quick, but once we realized he was our only chance of exiting this hell hole, we matched our pace to his.  Jeff called to the boy, “We’re following you!” which I told him wasn’t appropriate to say. We were at a frantic jog when Jeff shouted, “We lost him! Oh there he is!” As we stumbled out of the exit, the kid was looking back to make sure we were still following, which I thought was really nice of him.
     Love is sometimes like that house of mirrors. It can be difficult to discern what is real vs. what’s an illusion. When I hear a true love story, I’ll often confirm the heart of it by declaring “That right there’s love!” For instance, my friend told how her new husband talked her into going on a ski trip for their honeymoon. She didn’t know how to ski but she was in love so they went to the big serious slopes in Colorado. She nervously rode the lift to the top of the mountain and as they were about to dismount, her beloved shouted “Pole! Pole!”  She looked down and realized she’d dug her ski pole into the snow between his skis. Thankfully that got corrected and away they went.  As they barreled down the steep death slope, her beloved yelled “Pizza!  Pizza!” and laughing little kids whizzed past, holding their bent arms in the air like they were serving pizza. My friend went to ski school the next day and for the rest of the honeymoon, while her husband skied the black diamond Devil’s Crotch, she was perfectly happy staying on Frosty’s Freeway. “That right there’s love!”
     Another friend relayed how love made her go on a hunting trip with her husband. They weren’t allowed to shower for a week prior, and once they got their camouflage on and entered the woods, her husband sprayed deer urine on her boots and told her to walk around.  “That right there’s love.”
     Examples of true love are all around us. We know selfless people who take care of sick loved ones.  I also heard of a woman whose husband spontaneously bought her goats on their vacation, and hauled them across three states inside their minivan. And there’s a local grandmother who declared she was at a point in her life where she was done raising a garden and done raising animals…yet when her granddaughter came to live with her, they canned more garden vegetables than she had in 10 years. Nanna even used her hard earned money from selling homemade baskets to buy Neigh Nibblers for the three miniature donkeys they got last fall! “That right there’s love!”
     May we all have someone who talks us into fun adventures and whose shirt tail we can grab when we need help finding our way. And if we ever feel stuck in a metaphorical house of mirrors, may we find clarity and guidance in the greatest love story ever: Jesus said “I am the way, the truth, and the life…” (John 14:6)  That right there’s love!  Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.

 The Super 8 where Mom and I stayed during the annual Forest Festival had a breakfast room, and all the weary travelers gathered there to make a waffle or dip out a steaming ladle of delicious sausage gravy to drown a stale, but well-intentioned, biscuit. Mornings were a time to mingle and find out everyone’s purpose and assess how well or haggard they looked at the start of a day on the road. We struck up a conversation with one fine looking group of people connected to the pristine Model-T cars in the parking lot. They were from Michigan and took joy rides around the country, usually accumulating 100-150 miles per day. I asked, “How fast do the Model-T’s go?” and the man with a great white mustache replied 65 mph. He commented, “That’s the question everyone wants to know, but the more interesting challenge isn’t speed, it’s stopping the car! Because of mechanical brakes instead of hydronic ones, it takes a lot of effort to slow down and actually stop.” And I thought…yes, isn’t that often the case!
     This month so many people will make New Year’s resolutions to do this and that…eat better, go the gym, etc. But instead of doing something, what if we consider stopping something? It’s a resolution with a twist. But what on earth would we want to stop???
     The Bible gives us lots of suggestions but I’m only going highlight three that I think could make our new year healthier, and happier.
     In Matthew 6:25-34 we are told to stop worrying. Easier said than done, right? But what a freedom if we can learn to give our worries (and the people causing the worry) to the Lord. This might need to be a daily giving. Mom and dad were such a beautiful example of how to handle worry. Mom used to joke with Dad as she pushed his wheel chair into the bedroom for the night, “Well, Den, I guess we’d better go to bed as tomorrow will have its own worries.” And then they’d both laugh. She must have been onto something, because verse 34 says “Stop being anxious about tomorrow, tomorrow will have its own trouble.”
     Another suggestion of something we could stop doing is being bitter. There is a bad spirit of offense that seems heavy but must not be because people seem to pick it up so easily. John Wesley once said, “People who wish to be offended will always find some occasion for taking offense.” And I’ve heard it said that another person cannot ultimately offend us, but it is our reception of the insult that makes us offended. Dad used to call it having a thick skin. Ephesians 5:18 instructs us to “Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you…”
     The third STOP challenge is from Isaiah 1:16, “Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doing from before mine eyes; cease to do evil…” Simply put, wash yourself and stop doing wrong. Ever camped for a few days and forfeited a shower? Or sweat so hard putting up hay so hard you had a dead spider in your belly button? If so, then you know the glorious result of a good “washing”. If we want a list of things we need washed off, there are several things in the Holy Scriptures that are abominations to God. God gives us help and promises when we are tempted, He always provides a way out (1 Corinthians 10:13). It’s just our job to take it.
     Another interesting facet to Model-T cars, according to our hotel breakfast companion, is that while they struggle to get up the hills, they certainly go downhill fast. Before we follow suit, we might want a model of perfection to pattern our lives after…and Jesus “fits that to a T”.

     “Does your package contain anything liquid, fragile, perishable, or potentially hazardous?” As I contemplated this question carefully, I was momentarily distracted by a woman mailing her package at the next register. There was an obvious problem and finally she asked exasperatedly “where am I? “ I wanted to see what kind of woman would be in such a state of confusion as not to know where she was. As I signed off on my own parcel, I sneaked a glance to my left. By all appearances, the flustered woman was much younger than I and quite a bit more put together. Turns out she was trying to do a UPS transaction at a USPS office. I commented as she quickly fled the scene that I sometimes have to ask myself that same question. Where am I? The postal clerk smiled and replied, “Honey, we’ve all been there.”
     Let’s face it. It’s hard to stay on track and sometimes the busy train (especially around the holidays) can derail us.
     My husband and I hadn’t been to Kings Island amusement park in years, so we truly appreciated his company picnic held there in October. We opted out of the roller coasters but figured the antique cars would be more of our speed. As each car pulled up, we watched the little kids get behind the wheel and promptly drive away thinking they were in control, and some degree they were. The steering wheel actually turned the axles and the gas did accelerate, but both were limited for safety. If you veered too far to the right or left, you were kept on track by a steel guide rail in the middle of the road. If we only had something like that in real life to keep us on track! Turns out we do – the Bible contains words to guide us. And when we accept Jesus as our savior, we gain the Holy Spirit’s help. Isaiah 30:21 “And thine ears shall hear a word behind thee saying this is the way, walk ye in it. When you turn to the right hand and when you turn to the left.” Sounds like the perfect guide rail to me.
     Back at the antique car ride I recognized apprehension mixed with the joy on the kid’s faces as they climbed behind the wheel. (As an adult I know it well but the car is now the next big project.) Growing up on a farm, we girls begin driving trucks and tractors and at the age of eight particularly due to necessity and because mom and dad knew the more experience we got in the safety of the hayfield the better we‘d drive once we graduated to the main road. Muscle memory of sorts and an awareness of our surroundings and our placement —where we are.
    Imagine if while we are trying to stay on track, we were actually tracked like a mailed package. We trace the paths of birds, wolves, black bears and I even have a phone app that tracks sharks so I can entertain kids at the beach. There are also optional trackers on our phones to tell loved ones where we are for safety reasons. If I consider a map of all the places I was this past year, what would it look like? I’m guessing it could have been improved had I listened better the prompting of the Holy Spirit.
     So as the holiday frenzy of sending cards, shopping, baking, crafting, or traveling tries to derail us, let’s make sure we end up at the right place—respectfully in front of a manger with Jesus. Because honestly life is fragile, perishable, and potentially hazardous…and it’s important to know where we are. Mom knows best and she has always warned us about distractions telling us girls (ok, mostly me) “Keep your mind on your business”. In other words, stay on track.
 

     Obviously, chickens have always had a special place in every sane person’s heart since the beginning of time, but I’m finding with each new calendar hung on the wall, my bird obsession grows. There was that little set back during my high school years when Mom and Aunt Hilda dressed up in giant turkey costumes and performed a dance at the family reunion that nearly shut down the whole bird thing for me, but miraculously an ember of fascination still burns within.
     When we were young and in 4-H, our club, The Holly River Hillbillies, took on the task of making housing for Eastern Bluebirds. The dads got involved and the sound of many hammers and wails of kids hitting their thumbs instead of nails filled the valley. Everywhere you looked you could see one of our bluebird boxes attached to a fence post. It was quite probable that through our efforts the bluebirds got off the endangered species list and to this day I feel a little sense of pride whenever one is seen flying around the farm. Another time our 4-H club built wooden bird feeders,  which proved incredibly rewarding as we watched birds come and eat outside our kitchen window when the snow covered the ground.
   In recent years mom and dad began sitting on the front porch during lunch and would count how many different kinds of birds they could spot. Now the entire family has joined the quest.  A kingfisher’s stuttering, hyphenated screech, and a charm of goldfinches flying against the backdrop of dark green Hemlocks are special treats. The occasional majestic yet casual flyby of the resident Blue Heron as it makes its way down the river is exciting, as is the new arrival of a Common Merganser Duck family!
     One of my favorite birds of all our WV farm visitors is the Barn Swallow. I know they are dirty birds and the barn floor under their mud nests is always messy, but their ability to control the insect population and the way they enjoy sitting on a fence in a misty rain are irresistible. I dare anyone to look away when they gracefully flitter about like little acrobats maneuvering unexpected turns and then dipping down to make ripples in the still places of the river…or when they swarm in harmony behind the farm machinery in the hayfield catching bugs that get stirred up.  And anyone who owns a farm cat has smiled watching it get put in its place by a parental barn swallow. 
   With melancholy, I recognize it’s the normal cycle of life that this time of year the barn swallows have all headed south for their long-distance migration from West Virginia to Central and South America where they can eat their fill of insects during our colder months before they return in the spring.  If the mere sight of birds doesn’t leave you in awe of their Creator, the feat of migration really should. Birds obey what God tells them to do and could not succeed otherwise (and neither can we.)  Jeremiah 8:7 “Yea, the stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times; and the turtle and the crane and the swallow observe the time of their coming; but my people know not the judgement of the Lord.”
     The birds know their appointed times. The days get shorter, the weather gets cooler, and their food source gets scarcer. How will we know our appointed time?  Scriptures say “…now is the time of God’s favor, now is the day of salvation.” (2 Corinthians 6:2) Even if birds know the time--how do they know the way?  It’s wired in them to know the way…similarly, it’s wired in us to know The Way.  Jesus says in John 14:6 “I am the way.”  May we listen to our Creator and migrate towards Him. Birds aren’t really “bird brains” and we shouldn’t be either.