Nothing escapes the notice of inquisitive children. Sophisticated efforts to conceal details fail and the best laid plans get exposed. Last night was a prime example:

I drove the long winding roads to the country to get fresh milk. Sunny, our Jersey cow, grazed on the sprigs of green grass as I pulled into the drive way. She stopped grazing and bellowed when I opened the van door. She may have recognized me, but this was not the reason for her call. My friends separated her from the calf. Sunny was accustomed to keeping her calves for several weeks.  Her antics remind me of children reporting the injustices of a baby sitter.  It has been a few days but she still complains when I arrive. It takes cows a while to forget. But, eventually they will forget.

My friend greeted me on the steps beckoning me to come inside for the exchange. Ah, a bucket was full of warm fresh milk ready for a transfer into my glass jars. I set my jugs on the table. The gentleman moved a bowl of homemade ice cream out of the way. It was ice cream with a purple berry cobbler. Beautiful!

Just across the table sat a hand cranked butter churn. The sights and smells of an active farmstead dairy soothes this milkmaid’s longing heart. I noticed a cheese press in the sink. Whey oozed out of the stainless steel holes. Soon I found myself engaged in milkmaid shop talk. We discussed ice cream, cheese, and the steps to make a variety of cheeses. The keeper of the home produced a cheese supply catalogue and conversation continued to flow. Now with a plethora of milk, I must find a way to replicate what I saw in this kitchen. She began trimming mold off a beautiful wheel of white cheese and handed it to me.  A gift! I couldn’t help myself, I smelled it. Cheese makers do that. There is nothing like the smell of good cheese. She wiped her hands on her apron and brought me a plastic bag to carry off my treasure.

It has been six months since I held a wheel of handcrafted cheese. The texture felt good in my hands. It is a tactile experience not many appreciate or understand.  But, holding the cheese didn’t just impact my sense of touch.  It affected my wellbeing.   When life’s circumstances dictate change and the unfamiliar surrounds me, there is nothing more soothing then the familiar. True, I am a milkmaid on sabbatical, but there is one thing I will never retreat from, that is, acknowledging God’s sovereignty. Of course, I saw God’s hand in the gift I had just received. God brought me to a promised land after years of oppression.  My new home is near a country side filled with small farmsteads.  The people here handcraft everything.  They love the old ways.  Lost arts are not lost here.  They are celebrated and cherished in daily life. 

My friend refused pay. She gave me a pound of cheese. Surely, she knew how precious the gift was to me. I opened the door. A calico cat plump with unborn kittens met me on the steps. Near the sidewalk a Husky wagged its curly tail.

Carefully, I carried my pitcher of fresh milk to the van. I reached for the door handle and barely cracked the door open when I heard the firm demand from my nine-year-old daughter.

Moriah: Okay, HAND it over!

Me: Hand what over?

All the children: We saw it. You have cheese. Hand it over. We want the cheese!

I chuckled. My children missed the farmstead cheese too. They know the value of such a gift and appreciate beyond measure. I buckled my seat belt. The demands increased and morphed into profuse begging. As I sliced off the cheese, even Hank the cow dog joined the merriment. He often rides with us on our trips to the country.  He sniffed, wagged and whined. Though I love this dog, I could not bring myself to give him the hand crafted cheese. We drove home last night with an ice chest full of milk and mouths filled with the delicious flavor of excellent cheese. Life couldn’t be better. It is time to get the cheese presses out of storage.

 
Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

It’s Saturday. As I write, frozen ice pellets cover our partially green lawn. The signs of spring were premature as I suspected. I don’t trust easily. And, mother nature has proven to be untrustworthy. The beautiful blooms on the daffodils will now suffer mother nature’s cruel sense of humor.

Who knows what we will wake up to tomorrow morning. We praying for mercy. This snow storm comes from my home state, Kansas. Friends called reporting a foot of snow in my old home town. Others called reporting heavier snowfall in various parts of Kansas. I miss the sights and sounds of winter on my old farmstead. I miss the wood burning stove the most. I loved traipsing in the deep snow layered in heavy clothing, smelling the wonderful aroma of a home heated by wood. I miss home. I even miss the unpredictable spring weather.

Late last night I received a call canceling the trip to Leavenworth, Kansas. Whoops and hollers filled the house as I announced the canceled trip. It is a relief to have a break from traveling to Leavenworth.

Company filled my small home the night before last. They were the third group of travelers we welcomed from Kansas. They were a welcome sight. Seeing friends from our home state makes our move more tolerable. Our relocation reminds us never to take friendships for granted. It was once easy for us to see those who were so dear to us. Now to enjoy their presence we must travel some five plus hours to see friends and family. However, good friendships formed on the foundational love of Christ remain unscathed by distance, hardship, and time.

We welcomed our guests by serving them cheeseburger potato soup. It is a our family’s favorite dish. There is nothing like flavorful food and familiar faces to warm the heart. Later I took our guests to the countryside. We picked up fresh milk and eggs. They also got see the progress on my James style washer. It is coming along and looking more and more usable. My family concurred that using washer will involve hard work.

Plans were made to see notable sights around Missouri. Rumor stirred about rain and a potential snowstorm in Kansas. Should we focus on indoor activities or outdoor? We resolved the conflict by searching the net for the latest weather report. Anticipation and excitement turned to disappointment and dread as we saw the weather report. Snowstorms were headed to Kansas with the promise to break records. Later the snowstorms would hit Missouri. After one night of great fellowship, my family decided to return home hoping they would beat the dreaded snowstorm.

With much of Kansas buried under a foot of snow and with Missouri getting a good coating of freezing rain, we have remained at home and indoors. The children busied themselves with board games and building beloved forts with chairs and blankets.

Man makes lofty, grand plans sometimes just simple plans. Day by day, moment by moment, I am reminded of our need to rely on God, to be flexible and to praise Him when our plans are foiled.

Enjoy this recipe, compliments of the special man in my life:

Cheeseburger Potato Soup

1 pound of ground beef

Five pounds potatoes, cubed

1 pound Velveeta cheese, cubed

1 medium onion, diced

3 stalks celery, diced

Salt and pepper to taste

Dice the onions and celery. Begin boiling onions and celery in a pot large enough to hold all ingredients. Use enough water to barely cover potatoes.  Peel the potatoes while the onions and celery begin boiling. Add potatoes, salt, pepper, and cook until tender.  Do not drain off any water.  Meanwhile, brown hamburger. Once the potatoes are tender, add hamburger and cheese. Stir until the cheese is melted. Serve and enjoy!

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

You cannot possibly comprehend the grace of God unless you experience the full spectrum of your own depravity. Let me say it slightly differently. You can only collapse at the cross with a tear-streamed face, and humbly surrender your all to God, after full awareness of the punishment you deserve. It is there in the pit of blackness that your attention is drawn to a radiant light: a light that lifts you up from a stupor to stand upright, whole and reconciled. Once you have risen you can barely express in  an astonished whisper these words …

Amazing Grace …

I have come face to face with my own pathetic condition many times in my life … many more times than I care to elaborate upon. I have been there. Oh yes, I have been there realizing how sick and despised I am apart from Christ, in the eyes of God, on my own volition. I don’t just deserve death but a life of torturous misery because of who I am. I am a sinner. Many times I found myself crumpled before the cross with a tear-streamed face grasping for something, anything as I repent …

And then … I hear God’s decree: 

I declare unto you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, that your sins, which had stained you as scarlet and crimson, are covered by righteousness white as the snow.  For as far as the east is removed from the west, so far He has removed your transgressions.  Unto you who, repenting, trust fully in Him, I declare He receives and adopts you as sons.

And once again I repeat with wonder and awe these words…..

Amazing Grace …

But wait!! It does not stop here. The grace of God becomes more extraordinary when you stand before your enemies in this life, realizing you deserve to be consumed by them. The enemies are ferocious, unrelenting, and cruel. The enemies represent every fearsome giant you have ever dreaded, and worse. You can’t defend yourself. They are well armed with the most elite weapons. You have nothing. You are nothing. You are powerless.  But before you even fully comprehend your demise, the glory of God, He in His majesty and splendor, delivers you. The enemy is big, but God is omnipotent.  As you stand before your now defeated enemy you understand …

Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far

And grace

will lead me home.

I have stood in the presence of such enemies. Powerful lawyers, paid lots of money, poised to take my children, my home, my farm. I knew I deserved to be consumed by these tyrants. Yet God entered, clothed in majesty and splendor. He brought me safe through a divorce, a mangled criminal trial, a custody battle, and delivered me safe to a new home in Missouri with my family intact and cows following behind. He gave me a future and a hope. He has blessed me and answered prayer despite what I deserve.

Is it any wonder that our family’s favorite song is Amazing Grace? We sang it in despair before entering battle with the enemy. We sang it upon conclusion of our battle. We sing it as a reminder. We will still face enemies, but my family rests confidently in the knowledge that His grace will lead us home.

Enjoy this performance of our favorite family hymn …

Amazing Grace must see performance

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

It was 6:30, the vehicle was loaded down with children and a dog. The children were eager. The dog was a defector. What makes a dog a defector you wonder? He was once a farm dog, now he is a house dog. I dislike animals in the house. Never mind. We were on our way to get fresh farm milk.

The long winding roads meandered here and there until we reached our destination.

long road

Three small yip-yip dogs barked furiously at the tires as the dust kicked up in their faces. I pulled the vehicle to a stop. The door creaked open…

Unkind dog?

and the vicious yips …

… seemed less confident.

nice doggie?

Hesitating at first, I praised the heel nipper and the fangs were replaced with a slight wag starting in the tail section. The wag became heavier working its way down to his head. Soon the creature’s head section moved in syncopation with its tail section. It seemed unaware its instantaneous mood change.

The farm was bustling with activity. Guineas demonstrated neurosis escalating to psychosis as they attempted to impale each other with their beaks. Round and round they went unaware of horses, vehicles, or any other outside reality.

Neurotic bird

A cat slinked out of a shed slithering and rubbing against buildings, shrubs. Finally flopped on a bare spot in the yard pawing and clawing at some inanimate object as though it were alive and fighting furiously for it’s life.

A young girl wearing a hunter green dress with a white prayer cap entered the scene swinging a chore bucket. She seemed lost in her thoughts, completing her work in a near subconscious but tranquil state of mind. Soon her brother followed empty handed but with a rhythmic cadence to his gait.

The father passed by me. He was carrying a stainless steel bucket filled to the brim with frothy warm milk. I could hear the cow bellowing in the barn. A horse stood at a hitching post watching my every move. Its ears rotated as if on a swivel. I opened the hatch back and retrieved my wares, glass jars to carry the liquid gold.

Curious horse

I entered the farm house. Dusk began to cast its dark shadows in the kitchen. The day was drawing to a close for this farm family. I nearly overlooked it. A stainless steel pot filled with whey sitting next to the cook stove. The curd already sank to the bottom of the pot. It was a sight to behold.

This scene brought to mind my routine making cheese on the farm in Kansas. The sights, smells, and sensations were locked firmly in my memory.

My very own curds and whey-2001-Fuller Farms

The activity. The hustle and bustle used to belong to my home, my farm, my children.

Fuller children doing chores in 2006

I never dreamed I would be on the other end of this farmstead experience. For years, we milked the cows, strained the warm frothy milk, poured it into clean containers, screwed a cap on and poked them in ice chests for customers.

A van load of milk on Fuller Farms

For years, I felt the cash placed in my hands, the cash that seemed barely worth the effort on some days, the cash that made me feel rich and blessed on other days. I miss the farm. I miss serving. Yet, I enjoy the relief from the hard work. Not for too long. I belong to the work and the work belongs to me. It is just that way with a milkmaid. It is a hard phenomenon to explain to rational urban people. I’ve talked to other farmers. “It is in your blood, ” they say. Once it is in your blood there is little you can do save surrender to the insanity of it all.

Sure, I painted a romantic picture with words here. But, it is not. It is a plague, a burden. There is always a war within myself. There are days I swore I would sell the milk cows. I punctuated my sentence saying I would never encourage a soul to do something so crazy as get a milk cow.

In almost the same breath, I would fancy adding another cow to the herd because there wasn’t enough milk. I would walk to the fence line and see a calf frolic …

baby calf-2005-Fuller Farms

and pledge to leave this world and enter the next sitting on a milk stool.

I left the farmstead that day with containers filled with warm rich milk. I also left immersed in thoughts, immersed in the realization that my life would never be complete unless I could feel the supple plump teats once again. I am udderly hopeless and….

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Okay. I am going to do it. It is daring and risky, and completely odd. But, I can’t take it anymore. After losing four washing machines in two years, it makes sense. Machines and I do not get along so it makes even more sense. To me, it is a stewardship issue. Why spend money on machines that do not last?  And, by the way the economy is collapsing too.  It just makes … sense … sort of.  Okay, it doesn’t make sense, but read on anyway.

I placed an order for a non-electric washing machine. A local friend is custom building my James Washer. They are also leasing my cow, Sunny. Last week when I stopped by to see if Sunny had calved yet, our friend showed us the progress on the washer. Sunny dropped a bull calf one hour before we arrived on the farm. We enjoyed seeing our cow and knowing that fresh milk will soon be in the refrigerator again. And, the washer tub is finished. Our friend took the time to show the children how the machine will be assembled. I bought a wringer when I first moved to Missouri.  I brought the  wringer to my friend to custom fit it to the washer.  The children are eager to try it out. Many in this area use the James Washer. I have had good reports on them. They last a long time and are simple to operate. The children can agitate the wash instead of each other. Now there is a novel concept. Further, one family shared that their children do memory work while agitating. It gets even better. They agitate the wash instead of each other and complete school work at the same time.

Now that I have found a way to post pictures on this site, I will be sure and share how this new gadget looks and the details of how to use it. I have mixed emotions about the James Washer. I am a modern American, yet I long for simplicity. It is an internal war and the winner is not always logical. Truly, this will be an interesting experiment.

Moving to a non-electric washer means I will need to change my lifestyle a bit more. My goal is to purge our clothes to limit the amount of wash. I plan to have five sets of clothes for daily dress and two outfits for Sunday. I will also emphasize wearing clothes until they are dirty. My children tend to change clothes frequently and the clothes are not soiled.

Along with my desire to convert to some aspects of non-electric living, I am striving to make our clothes. This journey has been slow as I lost a part to my sewing machine. My daughters have been wearing modest clothing for a number of years. They rarely wear pants. I am not sure how this came about. My life or approach is not logical.  I have never encouraged the girls to wear dresses. We really didn’t live around or among people who wore modest dress until recently. However, we do read the bible and apply its teachings. My best guess is the Holy Spirit has done His work in the lives of my girls. It is simply their preference. It is bizarre that my daughters have taken to modest dress and I haven’t. They have begged me to wear skirts and dresses more. My beau also appreciates femininity so the pressure is on.

In the next few weeks, I plan to finish some dresses and wear them more often. It doesn’t come easy for me as I am a former feminist. Though, I have sporadically worn dresses and enjoy the freedom of mobility. I was surprised to find skirts and dresses more comfortable. Now that I have access to durable cloth it should help me make dresses that will hold up. The next challenge is to find patterns that suit my tastes. It is not an easy task and I groan inside when I think of all I am getting ready to undertake.

If I reach my goals, I will be washing clothes non-electrically. I will have a closet nearly empty. I will have a closet near empty with  mainly dresses. I will make my own dresses. Umm….maybe it is the aftermath from the chest cold. I just don’t feel myself lately. I am wierding out. I am not sure which is more peculiar, me writing about it or you reading it?  Oh well … in the near future, I will log off wireless internet to manually wash my clothes.  I never claimed to be rational…

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Reunion with Andrew

The past several days have been a whirlwind of activity. I am finally recovering from my chest cold, though I still tire easily. A precious friend from Kansas arrived last Thursday for an overnight visit. It was good to see them and share a little of our new life in Missouri with them. A few hours after they left, we packed and left for a long road trip to see my oldest son, Andrew. Our visit was the first since he left home. We found Andrew to be in good spirits and doing quite well in his new life.

Andrew was quick to let me know that he appreciated being home schooled and being “sheltered“. It does a momma’s heart good to get this kind of feedback. Andrew gave us a tour of the creamery where he works. We got to see some of the cheeses he has made. We met his co-workers and I got a first hand report from his supervisor. He praised Andrew for his work ethic, cleanliness, and attention to detail. I was sure an alien inhabited the body of my son. This is the same Andrew that used to fall asleep on a bucket in our dairy barn. He is now up at 4:30 a.m. and working by 5:30 in the morning five to six days a week. His supervisor affirmed he was alert and has not fallen asleep on a bucket yet. Sending children off into the work force is a challenge. We do our best to train them and pray for the rest.

Andrew is considering a degree in biblical studies. I am thrilled to see his passion for the Lord grow. The hardest aspect of his new life is that he is so far from home. We are very close and we miss each other profoundly. However, he is doing a good work and seeking the Lord. Though I want him to live close to me, I certainly don’t want to interfere with the Lord’s calling on his life. So, he calls twice a week and we will visit him as often as we can.

I have a number of pictures of our visit with Andrew. I will post them as time permits. My busy weekend left me with very little time to write articles, but I felt like a brief update was in order. May God bless all of you, dear readers. I hope you are enjoying the signs of spring. Spring is a wonderful season offering promises of newness.

Udderly His,
The Kansas Milkmaid

Home schooling children requires energy, tenacity, and boldness. Home school families are not mainstream. This means that we are open to persecution through criticism. Sadly, sometimes that persecution occurs legal channels.

During my divorce, I became concerned that my rights to home school would be attacked. My church provided valuable oversight. One of the elders became the interim principal of my home school. The church also paid for my membership to the Home School Legal Defense Association. This association offers legal support for families who home school. They are highly professional, proactive, and very successful in their defense of home school families. Their newsletters are informative, insightful, and filled with victories. They work tirelessly to defend families rights to home school. A membership to the HSLDA enables you to have legal representation in the event your home school comes under attack. Beyond legal representation, the association offers a variety of resources for the home schooling family.

I encourage all home school families to protect their legal rights to home school with services the HSLDA has to offer. The association is currently offering a free trial membership. You can learn more about it here.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

It was a quarter till five. Supper time. I was late as usual. My excuse? I am sick. Still coughing and hacking. I was stressed more than normal. The medication in the breathing machine makes me hyper. The cough medicine with codeine makes me tired. With my body warring against sleep and hyperactivity, my mind followed suit. The result: irritability. Still I struggle through the illness to prepare food for the children.

The children were out playing enjoying the warm spring air. I heard the squeals just outside the door. Hmmm…they didn’t sound to delightful. They were squeals on the verge of shrieks. I heave a sigh. My prayer for peace and quiet during supper preparation would go unanswered. Surely, I thought, the sunshine and warm air will keep them outside. Nope, it was not meant to be.

The door, had it not been attached to hinges, would have crashed to the floor. The once muffled shrieks bounced off the walls striking my ears with intense blows. Head congestion distorts sounds and magnifies them.

Good night!! All this noise came from a four-year-old little girl. But, wait! The four-year- old was being pursued by a husky ten-year-old shouting, “Give it back. It is mine. I buried it. It is mine.”

The four-year-old streaked through the house a mere blur howling all the way up stairs into her bedroom. Surely, she was nestled in the far corner underneath her bed well out of reach from human hands. As she passed, I surveyed her face to determine the level of intervention needed. Aha! Just as I thought. She had an impish look of triumph on her face as she tore by me. Conflict resolution would be more challenging than I thought. It would not be so cut and dry. I made a mental note to thank God for my social work training. My mediation courses would prove useful in this situation.

The husky ten-year-old was slower then the streak. I snatched him by the back of the shirt.

Me: Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute. What is this all about?

Zach: Charity dug up my buried treasure and won’t give it back!

Me: Buried treasure? What exactly did you bury?

Zach: I buried a dollar bill, a Korean coin and an Orcheln’s gift card.

Me: Why on earth did you bury those things?

Zach: Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn buried their treasure to protect it and I was scared. The economy is going to…..I was scared….

Zach began to explain the childhood intrigue with buried treasures and bands of marauding pirates. Even the imaginary friends played a role in this grand exploit. It boiled down to Zach and his sidekick, Moriah secretively burying their valuables, hiding them away for fear of devastating and unexpected loss. Little did they realize the eyes of their sister were upon them waiting, watching, and plotting. Their scheme was well planned out and elaborate. My empathetic mother’s heart even noted a twinge of rationality to their ploy to stash their valuables. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice the fear, the hoarding, and yes, the fear again.

In times such as these, fear of loss is a reality. Stock markets plunge. Inflations soars. There are rumors of collapse more devastating than the depression. With the morality of our nation plummeting lower than the stock markets, some speculate brutality and armed self-defense to survive. Our response: hoarding, stashing, and burying. It is no different then my children’s escapades. Prudence demands we prepare for times such as these. Oh, but man left to his own devices distorts prudence and leaves out the essential ingredient: faith.

It was fear that caused the spies to crumble in despair as they examined the promised land. Hark! There were giants. Only a few had faith and remembered the promises of God. It was fear that caused the servant to bury the talents. Surely, there are many giants in our world today, but God has not forgotten us. He has not made empty promises. Our Father owns the cattle on a thousand hills, at times he allows money to pass through our hands replacing a talent with a mite. But His promises are real, alive, and so worth believing in!

Matthew 10:28-31

28Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. 29Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. 30And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

As I finished the object lesson, the precious imp withdrew from the far recesses of her room extended soil covered hands returning the treasure to the rightful owner. She left the house seeking other adventures. The valuables are no longer buried, but kept in a drawer.  Zach pledges to store up his treasures in heaven where neither moth or rust destroy and where little sisters can’t steal it either!

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Yesterday, I traveled to the countryside to get real milk. The air was fresh and warm, making short sleeves a requirement. The land, it was beautiful. Huge clods of dirt lay freshly overturned by horse and plow.

The land offers much to our family. It heals, it feeds, it sustains. I know this. It was farming the land that saved me from insanity during the grueling divorce and criminal trial against my children’s father. The farm offered structure in the midst of the devastating chaos. We had something to live for. The animals needed us, and customers counted on us. It gave us meaning when life seemed meaningless.

You may wonder how the children held up with all the hard work. After all, we live in a society that intentionally shields children from hard work and limits their participation in household chores to merely taking out the trash once per week or drying dishes. My children had to help with every aspect of the farm and home. So what do they think of farming and household chores? Let me share their thoughts with you expressed best in scenarios.

Scenario one:

There is a container on the kitchen counter. It holds money. All the children have pooled their allowance and placed it in this container. They labeled the container “Chicken and Goat Fund”. When most children save up for techno toys, mine are saving for farm animals. This has special meaning because we are not on the farm right now. We live in a small town.

Scenario two:

I am in the kitchen washing dishes and cooking supper. We just completed school. I left the children in the living room to play or have free time. Once the children realize I am in the kitchen, they begin to join me one by one.

Jordan: Mom, I need something to do.

Me: But you can play with your toys and let mommy do the work.

Jordan: No, I want to help. I need something to do.

Soon Charity enters the kitchen and then Moriah. Josiah enters asking if he can set the table. I am browning hamburger. When I turn to put a dish in the sink, I can barely get to the sink. Four children crowd around the sink washing dishes. They volunteered.

Scenario three:

Last night at the supper table the children began to chatter excitedly. They were pouring milk from a glass jar. Local friends have a milk cow that just freshened. Another friend is going to milk one of our cows, Sunny and give us the milk. With two sources of milk, I may be able to make some cheese on occasion.

Zach: Can we save this cream and make butter tonight?

Me: No Zach we still have twenty pounds of butter in the freezer. We can make some later.

Zach: Awww. Can we make cheese then?

Me: Listen to you all. You sound like a bunch of farm kids. We live in the city now. How about we forget this foolish farm stuff and move to a bigger city. Let’s take life easy.

The children: But we are farm kids! We will die if we move to a bigger city. We can’t wait to get to farm again.

Zach: On our new farm we are going to get a sheep. We will save the wool and learn to spin.

Me: Sorry guys, I forgot to tell you we are going to move into the big city and shop at the store exclusively. No more hard work.

Josiah: Ha, Ha, Ha. You are just kidding.

Moriah: Our mom would never do that. You love cows and the country too much.

As you can see the children were not traumatized by the work they endured. They miss the farm. They have a character habit of participating in household duties and prefer that to playing. They make plans to return to the farm quite apart from my plans.

I believe the social ills of our nation could be greatly improved by a return to farming. True, we suffered a common social ill of domestic violence and divorce. It didn’t stop the social ill. However, I believe the farm gave us a means to heal. The children knew they played an important role on the dairy and that it would not continue without their contribution. My family organized around a common goal and everyone participated in cleansing sweat of the brow work.

Udderly His,
The Kansas Milkmaid

As I describe my journey to agrarian life or rather living out a biblical world view, realize I struggle because God has taken me down a path that may or may not look like others. God is a God of diversity, complex diversity. Look at geography to see the diversity. Sure the land masses perform the same function. They give man a place to live, a setting or stage to glorify God. But, North America is different than South America as is Asia and Africa. Chances are my walk will look unique with some thematic similarities. It may be different than yours. Nor do I promote the idea that everyone should be like me.

I trace my journey to a simple act of despair twelve years ago. I hit rock bottom and kneeled by my couch offering God my complete self. No sacrifice was too great. My appetite for God was insatiable. I began reading the word daily, memorizing scripture in route to work and changing my life as the Holy
Spirit convicted me of folly. I turned off the television and radio and began to immerse myself in a biblical worldview. Something amazing happened. The hypocrisy and foolishness of my life became apparent. It no longer made sense to deny my own children’s training to try to save families who were suffering.

Suddenly, I realized the ignorance of my dedication to a profession (I had a masters degree in social work) that by it’s very own code of ethics denied me the ability to profess Christ as the answer to my client’s suffering. In fact, I wasn’t allowed to discuss God unless my clients raised the issue first.

I still remember a vivid and painful scene in my mind. My oldest son was eight years old. He stood at the back door of my home blocking the door with his body crying, “Please mommy, don’t leave. Please”. I had been gone all day working with families in crisis. A new crisis erupted allowing me to stop at home long enough greet my eight year old and nurse my infant son before traveling across the state to help a teenager in crisis. I had already put in a ten our day. Unfortunately, the crisis nature of my job made this a normal occurrence. It was then that I realize the folly of my career. I was denying the power of my influence over my family by participating in the lie that women should have a career to make a difference. I couldn’t discuss God with my clients, but nothing prohibited me from teaching my children about God save my own ignorance. Later, I learned that by staying home and home schooling, I could effectively live out Deuteronomy 6:7-9 giving me the power to transform the lives of my children and thereby a nation. Sure it sounds grandiose at first glance. But, think of it. The leadership of today is a reflection of yesterday’s home life.

Coming to terms with this truth began my agrarian journey. Simply, it is taking dominion of my personal walk with God and my children. Often we equate the agrarian life with living self-sufficiently off the land. For me, it started with giving up my career and embracing my role as a home educator, mother and wife. Agriculture was secondary and a side effect. It was not primary. Agriculture was a tool to affirm the teachings of taking dominion and serving the Lord God. Agricultural is not the only tool available though.

Often we attribute agrarian life to farming the land. I would suggest that is too narrow a definition. To restore our nation to greatness we simply need a return of home centered economies. That is, we need a return of family run businesses. When father’s work from the home as their main means of income, it gives them an ability to shepherd their family. Even this statement too narrowly defined. For example, we frequented a store called Midwest Farm and Dairy in Kansas. The store was owned and operated by Larry Nisly. His son Rod worked with him. However, it was not uncommon to see his daughters and grandchildren working behind the counter. Their business was away from home. Yet, the beauty of this arrangement is that father and son were working together in a family vocation. Other members were included as well. One time I visited the store to find the grandchildren napping on the floor in the basement. This alleviated the need for day care and kept the family together.

Satan’s most successful tool has been to segregate families. Fathers are ushered off to corporations or industries. Wives are working careers separate and apart from their husbands and children. Children are placed in daycare and school all day long leaving little time for communication making it impossible to fulfill the commandments of Deuteronomy 6:7-9. Recreation leagues and other social clubs try to mimic what the family once provided in camaraderie, team work and togetherness, but fail miserably. Mass education and media has normalized corporate industrialized society and pathologized the biblical view of family, work and society. Government policies penalize small businesses and reward big business making it difficult for families to return to local, home centered economies. However, Government cannot effectively do what God ordained for the family. The economic crisis is a consequence of its intrusion into family life. As the economic climate worsens, Christians should find hope as local home economies will prove the most effective, efficient ways to provide goods and services once again.

May God use this troublesome time to restore what was lost. And, may Christians especially Christian men make the most of this opportunity to restructure our nation.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid