In the midst of life’s greatest controversies, in the thick of all grime of overpowering troubles, I remove myself and begin soaking up the simple beauties of life.I am a woman who has seen much hardship in life. When I came to embrace Calvinism, I did not need anyone to substantiate that man is totally depraved. I knew it, I lived it and lived with it. Friends, I am willing that others learn this point. For I am thoroughly convinced. Pass it on, dear Lord. I have learned enough.

Yet, God arranged for me to see the continuing effect of depravity on an extended basis. Instead of being predominated with bitterness, I accept that God knew what kind of trials I needed in order to refine Christ’s imagine in me. Thank you Lord for helping me find you in the struggle and for encouraging me to let go of self.

Many times in the middle of my struggles, I found myself crushed, wondering how much more depraved could man get? I wept more tears than I felt a person could weep. The bible became my great solace in those days. And yet, to comfort myself I did more. I stood in the middle of the pasture and watched my Jersey cows graze. I observed my children romp and roll in the yard care free. I saw the sun set cascading brilliant shades of orange and red over the sky. Despite the fact that I was in the midst of the hideous trials, I knew God was in the midst of me. I saw His peace in the contented grazing of a cow. I saw His joy in the laughter of my children and His hope in their youth. I saw His splendor in the majestic sunset. I remember the agony of those days. How could I forget? But, there is one thing I will never forget. God walked with me through those dark valleys. He never forsakes His children. Sure, He purges us, molds us, and chisels away the crusty exterior around our hearts. But, He is still there.

I am thanking God that the dark valley is mostly behind me. And, I am thankful He is still with me. As I stop and watch a cow graze, or listen to the children play, or watch a sunset today, I remember the heartache with a greater appreciation for the work God has done in my life. God works this way in the lives of all of His children. He uses the heartache to draw us closer to Him, to purge out bitterness and egotism. He gives us glimpses of peace in the most uncanny experiences. If we quiet our souls, we can see His presence and rejoice. True, some of us will have ongoing difficulties, but even the long drawn out hardships will end. We can prepare for that day by rejoicing while in the thick of a difficult circumstances.

Udderly His,
The Kansas Milkmaid

As a milkmaid, I have had several people approach me seeking advice. Most want to know the how-to’s behind keeping a family cow. I used to take calls from all over the United States sharing what I didn’t know and what I did wrong with people. I learn the hard way by making ample mistakes. Rarely, do I breeze through an experience unscathed. So, generally when I share advice with people, I share from the perspective of mistakes. Callers were always gracious thanking me for spending time with them on the phone.

Recently, a friend asked me for advice regarding their family cow. “Is the book ‘Keeping a Family Cow’ a good book?” I affirmed it was a good book for starters. The next question caught me off guard. “Got a list of names?  We still don’t know what to call her.” To be honest, no one has ever asked me to help name a cow. Naming a cow is pretty important though.

I warned against naming the cow after the fruit of the spirit. We had Love, Joy, and Amazing Grace. Naming cows after a desired character trait ensures you will get the exact opposite. In fact, it appears that naming cows after the fruit of the spirit means your cow will become demon possessed and that is putting it nicely.

Love, the Holstein cow, was no representation of her name. She was the meanest, most hateful and spiteful cow we had in the herd. My oldest had her hoof in his face and hind end. He still remembers Love to this day with phantom pains to the knee. She kicked him squarely on the knee cap.  Joy, the Holstein, was lethargic and depressed. However, she gave Andrew a kick when he gave her a shot for arthritis. Despite her leg wound, she sent a lightening bolt like strike to Andrew’s hind end when he inserted the needle. He was at her head when she kicked. Amazing Grace was by far, the cow I despised the most. She was senseless, gawky, ruthless and stubborn. On more than one occasion, I had to use self-control to keep from shooting her.

When naming a milk cow, keep in mind, that you have the right to change the name upon further experience with the animal. Upon moving to Missouri, I encountered a black cow which apparently was a Holstein Angus cross. The children named her Obsidian. After a month, we changed it to Obstinate. When she tore apart the milk barn and overturned the hot water heater she became Nightmare. Ultimately, she was named Hamburger. She went to the meat packers after that incident.

Since we have had such bad experiences naming cows after character traits, we stick with names from a baby name book. We never tried reverse psychology. Perhaps, naming a cow Attitude, Spite, or Knot Head would give you a sweet tempered cow.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

I apologize for the start-stop method of blog posting. In addition, I have run into some technical difficulties trying to post pictures. We have been displaced from our home due to the cold weather and complications with the heat pump installation. Plus, we have had distractible excitement around deer hunting season. We spent most of the week with my husband’s parents to keep warm while Daddy worked on the installation. It is midweek and we have arrived home. We are grateful for a warm house.

The heat pump installation is a curious creature to me. Daddy purchased a ground source heat pump. Trenches were dug and the heating and cooling framework will be placed in the bottom of the fishing pond rather than a hole in the ground. There is still more work to be done before we draw the heat supply from the ground. For now, we are using the electric back up mechanism on the heat pump to keep warm.

Frankly, I miss the wood burning stove. I love the smell of wood burning as I walk out in the yard to do chores. We will have to wait until our house is built to use wood heat. Much work still needs to be done before we can bring the cows home. So, there will be no winter chores again save feeding Hank and drowning rodents who make their way into the house. Now that the duct work is completely hooked up, we should see a decrease in the mouse population.

In all of my years in the country, we never had mice in the house. This is a new experience for me. We are using the dreaded glue traps. My children, being ruthless, fight over who gets to drown the prey. I have converted to a country girl, but I still struggle with certain aspects of rural living. I think my children take country living a bit far.

As I snuggle down for the night in this warm home, I am reminded of how our gracious Father cares for our every need. I am thankful for a home in the country, land to farm, a home full of love, peace and joyful noises from children. This Thanksgiving, I have so much to thank God. The children and I are safe, free from daily tyranny, enjoying the love of a godly husband and father. We have had a wonderful year of peace.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

After our wedding we took a long honeymoon traveling several places. We started in the heart of Texas visiting the River Walk. Later we drove a rental car to Port Aransas. Using a rental car creates inner turmoil for me. As an agrarian, I drive used and near dead vehicles that have some sort of bungee cord rigged to keep some part of the vehicle in place. Most of the vehicles I drive have well over 100,000 miles on them. I like it that way. There are no car payments, low insurance, and it makes for adventure. One never knows what surprise lay ahead with a well used car. Further, it takes a great act of faith to drive used cars. I have prayed my way through many mechanical failures. I am here to say, God is ever faithful. Much more faithful than those new car warranties. I digress so let’s return to the rental car.

When my husband opened the passenger door of the rental, I felt out of my elements. It was a sleek black sports car with a sun roof, no less. I kept my hands tight at my side and felt nauseous with the new car smell. I wondered who on earth would want such a car? To me a car’s value is measured in the number of children it will safely transport or if the seats will break down to haul calves or other livestock in a pinch.

This car proved worthless. It had limited trunk space. The seats did not fold down and it would hold two children plus two parents. Yes, it was worthless to me. My husband would not be undone though. He saw possibilities with this car that I could not envision. We spent a good deal of time walking the sandy beaches, collecting shells, and enjoying each others’ presence. We splashed in the waves and got sufficiently wet. At the day’s end, we returned to the car soaking wet and realized we failed to bring towels. We walked a while longer trying to dry out as much as we could.

My husband grew impatient knowing we needed to travel several hours to get back to our hotel. He spied the sunroof and his mind went to work. He depressed the button to open the sunroof and then slipped his t-shirt out the window. He closed the sun roof securing his shirt in it. We took off and his shirt went flying in the wind but still affixed to the car. When we stopped, the shirt flopped over the windshield some. Once we accelerated the shirt went to flapping again. In no time at all, the shirt was dry via solar and wind power. Had I been a city girl looking for a city guy, I might have been embarrassed with this rather redneck innovation. Instead, I marveled at my husband’s ingenuity to convert this worthless vehicle into a practical tool. It was then; I knew I married my soul mate.

We had many wonderful memories in Texas. Yet, I was pleased to return home to see our used vehicle parked in the drive. It is perfect for hauling a quiver full of children and will even tote livestock if necessary. Yes, there is even a bungee cord holding an important item in place. There are no payments, low insurance, and excellent adventures related to mechanical failures.

We had the opportunity to trade in our clunker for cash. We declined, of course.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid <–>

We were sitting on a grassy knoll. All six of my children were spread out searching through the fallen leaves. We jabbered together about various topics. Moriah, 10, spontaneously stated,

“I am surrounded by a bunch of nuts.”

Her comment caught me by surprise. It resembled a comment her Daddy would make. My husband is the king of puns. Lately, all the children have been trying out various puns to get the infamous groans that go along with such wordplays. Our eyes locked as I tried to discern the true meaning behind her comment. Was this intentional banter or a matter of fact statement. Moriah is a serious little girl. She can remain stoic in situations where most people would struggle. Her expression remained unreadable for a long time. I called her bluff by raising an eyebrow. Finally, she could no longer hide it. She responded with a smile. Indeed, she used this family excursion to create a witty pun.

We were gathering pecans at a neighboring dairy farm. The children squealed with delight as the moved the fallen leaves and discovered an abundance of pecans in their hiding places. Curious calves walked up to the fence line to observe our activity.

We had a great time gathering nuts, talking, and reminiscing about our own dairy farm. At the end of our outing, I had to agree we were surrounding with nuts. We gathered a large tub full of pecans to prove this point. But, more than that we shared lots of memories complete with silly antics. The children declared our pecan picking as great fun and that we should go again soon. We were a large family, gathered together in the country in our leisure, digging through fallen leaves and enjoying every minute of it. Yes, I suppose, Moriah was right. Literally and figuratively she was surrounded by nuts.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

On July 5, 2008, I was ready to move the cows from Kansas to Missouri. My cousin helped drive the stock trailer loaded down with cows to Missouri. Though we had to make another trip later to get Josiah’s Holstein heifer. There was room for all the cows in the stock trailer. But there was one small glitch…

 Megan calved a few days prior to our arrival. She had a pretty little heifer that we named Majesty. But, there was no room in the stock trailer for Majesty. We couldn’t leave her behind. So, we decided to load her in a large tub filled with straw. We started out thinking it would be a good idea to put the lid on the tub. We drilled several large holes in it. She wasn’t very active and so we concluded that she would be an easy passenger in the van.  Majesty remained in the tub with the lid affixed for an hour into our trip. Suddenly we heard a loud pop of plastic. I turned to see Majesty standing up and examining her surroundings with a placid look on her face.

 This was not the first time I traveled a good distance with a calf in a car. I picked up a Guernsey heifer named, Mel in Oklahoma a few years prior. She seemed small and ill. Compassion overtook reason and I loaded her up in the floor board of the 1996 Chevy Lumina. She too stood up.  But, in downtown Tulsa, Oklahoma to take in the scenery. Nothing of note took place when transporting Mel to Kansas. Nothing noteworthy took place when transporting Majesty to Missouri. Once she took in her surroundings she settled down in the tub for a five hour drive. She even stayed put while we dined in a restaurant.

Here are a few pictures of moving cows and our journey to Missouri a year ago.  Though this story is a bit dated, it still provides amusement for our family as we retell the story of moving the cows from Missouri to Kansas.

So, am I the only one who carts calves around in cars?  The proof is in the picture.  Here is Vince Romano, one of Drew’s friends and a family friend.   Kindred spirits, eh?

Here is a picture of Lindsey shortly after the move to Missouri.  She poses so pretty.

The death of the family farm and the cottage industry came with a shift in cultural values. For anyone who is interested in reclaiming what was lost, it is imperative to begin that journey with an overhaul of principles which guide our behavior. We must understand what happened to our family, farming, and this country in order to effectively restore what was lost. What does milking a cow, raising a laying flock, or growing a garden have to do with principles, morals or even the bible?  Farming is not easy. Failure to farm with deep convictions will ensure resignation at the first sign of failure or hardship. You must know why you are doing what you are doing. Before that, you must know how did we get this way in the first place.

Many people who are interested in homesteading or Christian Agrarianism may over look this necessity to examine and rebuild cultural and biblical values. They may purchase a family cow, obtain a laying flock and even butcher meat birds thinking they are well on their way. However, the importance of homesteading with good principles will make its presence known when you walk outside and find the family cow dead from a heat stroke, or you find a possum dined on five out of your twelve layers. Homesteading and farming is hard work and requires a reliance on fundamental values to endure the difficulties that  befriend agrarianism.

A good example for this discussion is the pilgrims who set sail on the Mayflower. Their decision to leave England first and then Holland was based on well thought out and absolutely sacred biblical principles. Those principles helped them endure when they were imprisoned and separated from their beloved family. Those aided them when they stood at the mounds of fresh dirt heaped over their loved ones. “They were ready to endure every hardship, even death itself, rather than lose their faith for future generations. Even though 52 of their number died the first year, they were unperturbed. When their ship, the ‘Mayflower,’ returned to England [the following spring], NOT ONE WENT BACK. What a testimony; what a manifestation of CHRISTIAN CHARACTER, CHRISTIAN SELF-GOVERNMENT, CHRISTIAN ECONOMICS, CHRISTIAN EDUCATION AND BIBLICAL UNITY ” says Dr. Mark Fakkema in the book Teaching and Learning America‘s Christian History.

After reading about the pilgrims flight from England and then from Holland to North America, I noticed something intriguing. The pilgrims left England for religious freedoms. They had religious freedom and some level of prosperity in Holland. So why they did they desire to leave Holland? Note that I said they had some measure of prosperity in Holland. But their prosperity was not complete. Here is why:

In Holland, they were working in factories. They were getting pale and weak. They missed tilling the soil as they did in England. But beyond that, the work in the factory kept them from harvesting the most important crop, that is, children. Their children were forsaking the values of the God and growing more and more like the Dutch society. They longed for Dutch clothing and spoke the Dutch language. Land was so high priced in Holland that the chances to farm were non-existent. True, they had one aspect of religious freedom, but they were wise enough to see they were not truly free because Holland kept them in factories and took captive the hearts of their children. Our founding fathers understood the importance of complete religious freedom. A man is not free who labors under a another for his livelihood. A man is not free who cannot teach God’s ways to their children when they walk along the road, when they sit at their house, when they rise up. (Deuteronomy 11:19). God showed the pilgrims their demise and they acted swiftly to alter their children’s fate.

Would our founding father’s be pleased with us today? Would their hard lives, sacrifices, bravery and deaths be in vain? We have recreated Holland in America. Only, we have taken things farther. Our husbands and fathers are working in factories and corporations growing obese, at risk of cardiac arrest, struggling with high blood pressure, and diabetes to name a few.

It gets better. Mothers have joined them in the factories and corporate offices. Children are given over to centers, agencies, and school systems to learn what parents don’t have time to teach. Since God was ignored in public schools for generations, we can be sure that these institutions for child care are not fulfilling the biblical command of Deuteronomy 11:19. Don’t worry. Americans won’t have the opportunity to feel remorse or guilt for forsaking the hard work of our founding fathers. Friedrich Engles, founder of communism with Karl Marx, says if you could remove people from their roots, they could be easily swayed to your point of view. With God ignored in the public schools, most people do not know the well thought out and deeply sacred values held by our founding fathers. People like John Dewey, the father of modern education, opposed anything that would help Christian faith in children. The educational reformer’s work coupled with Margret Sanger’s founding of the Planned Parenthood movement placed a death sentence on the Christian family. Families stopped farming. They stopped growing and they stopped believing in God. Indeed, our founding fathers would weep if they could see the current state of the America they fought so hard to build for their children. More important, God weeps.

Yet, God is not surprised by the status of American families today. He, through the power of the Holy Spirit and the written Word, has worked on the hearts of many all across this nation and overseas. I have had great pleasure to meet and get to know some of these families. These families have many things in common. They are returning to the land. Fathers are creating cottage businesses or have arranged with their corporations to work from home. Many of these families are large. The mothers are working at home as keepers of the home. The children are home schooled or receive a private Christian education.

To demonstrate the positive impact these families could have on cultural reform. Let me make this point. Family A has eleven children. They are all home educated. Their father gave up a corporate job for a skilled labor position so he could reduce his hours. The family is a homesteading family. Family B has twelve children. Their father has his own blue collar business and they farm with their home schooled children. Family C has ten children privately schooled at a Christian Charter School. The family gets its livelihood from a vegetable farm. The collective number of children between these families is thirty-three children who are being faithfully raised as solid Christians talking dominion of the earth from a biblical perspective.

On the other end of the spectrum, Ithe next three families who represent the antithesis of these values. Family AA has two children and boasts a tubal ligation helped them focus on their careers. Both children are heavily immersed in the public school education and all the extra-curricular activities. The children while they have some academic awards cause their parents grief with indulgences in alcohol and other socially inappropriate behaviors. Family BB has two children also who completed public school enjoyed all the same extra curricular activities and provided the same embarrassment to their families. Family CC has four children. All public schooled. There is more of the same achievements and embarrassment. Both parents work out side the home in all three of these families. The stories of their difficulties are sad, but often minimized with the statement “kids will be kids”. The collective number of children in these families equals eight. These eight children are living life as professing Christians who are living life seeking the American dream.  Thirty-three children I know are being educated with solid biblical principles with a home centered family dynamic.  Eight children I know received sparse biblical training, with a highly fragmented home life.  The number of Christians being educated with well thought out deeply held sacred biblical values dwarfs the number of children who get subsistant levels of biblical instruction.  Over time, the reform to our culture should be evident with the number of families home schooling increasing exponentially. 

God is working to reform this culture. His ways may not be bold and public like passing bills in the House or Senate. No, His strategy is occurring by placing infants in the arms of dedicated Christians who will conform their lives to the pattern of living found in the bible.

When we seek to live a quiet agrarian life, it is important to know about those who have gone before us. We must know how farming and cottage businesses bound families together for a common purpose in Christ for His kingdom. Farm families were strong families providing their sustenance by the grace of God. Enduring hardship together by the mercy of God. Today we are scattered hither and yon by loyalties to the corporate industrial god. We are deriving our sustenance by the pseudo grace of mega farms and industrial grocery chains. We are enduring hardship by the false mercy of insurance policies, sick days, and if all else fails lawsuits against those entities that fail to satisfy our needs. We no longer have to watch our families disintegrate. We can return to the God of our forefathers by turning our hearts toward home once again.
I am thankful God has blessed me with a husband who has embraced and took action on this vision for our family. He currently works from a home based office. He leads us in a time of worship before each meal. He is available to counsel me in the affairs of keeping a home. He is there to assist with instruction and discipline of the children. God is rebuilding a family that will stand so that we can declare His glory to all.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

3.  Persimmons ripen about the same time deer seasons opens. Harvesting persimmons on your farm with a deer hunter in the family may instigate strained relations. Andrew is eager to hunt next week on his days off. He was mortified that we were in the woods where he plans to hunt.

4.  Mushy persimmons taste the best. Slightly firm persimmons have a strange effect on the pallet. There is a dry bitter quality to the not quite ripe fruits. The children declared that the uglier the persimmons they better they tasted.

5.  Next year I would like to purchase something to aid me in getting the pulp. I had a terrible time using a colander, potato masher and spoon. I made a sloppy gooey mess. However, I froze about 18 cups of pulp.

6.  I noticed my straining method allowed for many brown specks to stay in the pulp. I ran the pulp through a cheese cloth to lessen the amount of brown specks. I think the brown was just discoloration of the skin of the fruit and perhaps some of the stems, though I am not sure. The cheese cloth idea worked well until I got tired. My eleven year old has special needs in the area of occupational therapy. He benefits from squeezing play dough or putty. I assigned him the task of squeezing the pulp through the cloth when my hands tired of the job. He enjoyed helping. Though we both got tired and decided to live with the specks near the end of the night.

7.  Persimmons pulp sticks to the skin even after a good scrubbing. It turns brown and even a scratch pad doesn’t seem to remove the crusted on stains off the skin.

8.  Do not gather persimmons in your skirts. The first day we found them, I didn’t have a large container. Sure I liked filling my long skirt full of persimmons. I felt so feminine. But, walking up to the house gave them a real beating. My dress was a slimy mess.

9.  Persimmons pulp stains. This is another reason not to gather persimmons in your skirt. Wear an apron while handling the fruit. I may have ruined a few dresses.

10.  I froze all the pulp. Next year I would like to can the pulp. My aim is to reduce my reliance on refrigeration. I would like to can more now, but I have limited pantry space.
It is incredibly fulfilling to find treasures on the land. We took this raw material, processed it and created a delicious dessert. Everyone enjoyed the pudding cake I made. I am now looking for more recipes and ways to use persimmons.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Have you ever had one of those moments? A moment where you are transported back in time due to your surroundings? I had one of those moments yesterday. My husband, the children, and I went for a walk on the farm. We walked deep into the woods. Our mission was to find pecans and persimmons. The weather was beautiful. Hank the cow dog joined us for this walk. It was in a few words picturesque. The children ran ahead of us. The sun began to set causing the soybeans to cast a golden glow. Off in the distance, I could see the children running along the edge of the field with Hank wagging his tail and bounding behind them. Deep into the tree row, we found trees full of persimmons ready for picking.

The setting was beautiful, perfect for going back in time. Our recent studies of the pilgrims enhanced my thoughts about by gone eras. Our founding fathers came to this strange land and unfamiliar terrain yet were able to carve out a living. I imagined what they might have felt as I walked the tree row. Missouri is a new terrain for me. There were many wild plants that I could not identify. Living off the land would require bravery as well as some knowledge of botany. Eating the wrong plant could lead to sickness or death. I wondered about the each plant’s potential for food or medicinal purposes as I followed the children. I had no Indians to help me identify plants. Though I have my parents who are familiar with native plants. In fact, they took the children on a walk through the woods a few weeks ago and showed them the pecan and persimmons trees. The children learned from their grandparents how to tell when the persimmons were ripe. They were eager to share their new knowledge with me.

The children located the persimmons trees. I gazed up and saw the tiny orange pumpkin like fruit hanging in trees at least ten feet above our heads. Before I could verbalize a plan about how to get the fruits, my daughter scaled the tree and began to shake the branch. Her dress did not hinder her. I am thankful for her agility in climbing trees. The orange fruits fell on the ground and we began our harvest. Hank joined in on the excitement sensing there was something valuable about the persimmons. He sniffed the fruit unable to understand our enthusiasm for the persimmons. However, he was happy to be a part of the action. Every now and then a fruit would fall and hit me in the head or back. A wave of giggles erupted every time I exclaimed, “Hey, stop throwing things at me.” We had a great time. I was so caught up in the joy of harvesting a fruit native to our new farm land, I couldn’t help but want to share this moment with my husband. He is a lot like me. He is a dreamer and a pioneer spirit. We both love creating something with raw materials. It was a joy to think about our commonality with pioneers of old. In fact, the thick tree rows, blocked any view of modern life as we know it. I was enjoying this track back in time when I called out to my husband. He was deep in the tree row examining the terrain for potential homesteading projects. He answered my call which jolted me back into the reality of the 21rst century, “Hang on. My cell phone is ringing”. My husband joined us and mustered up chivalry to gather persimmons from thorny thickets I could not reach.

We gathered a fair amount of persimmons and then began our journey back to the house. When I entered the house, I did what any rugged pioneer woman would do. I researched how to process persimmons on the internet. It didn’t take long to figure out how to collect the pulp. I converted this mushy fruits into a delicious pudding cake. I topped the cake with whipping cream from our raw milk. I have much to learn about living off the land. Much effort will need to be made to end our reliance upon modern technology. But, for now, we have made one small step toward living off the land.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid

Some accuse women who seek to submit to their husbands of being brainwashed.  They are just empty headed door mats willing to say yes at all costs.  How do I know?  I used to be a feminist and espouse these views.  Of course, I know this is a lie from Satan himself.  But, I must agree.  Yes, I am brainwashed.  I wash my brain in the word daily and I am blessed with a husband who assists in this washing.  It is with great fondness, respect, and understanding of the infalliable word of God that I strive to submit to my husband.  It is a high calling to begin my day asking him how can I best help him.  

Some wives are blessed with Abrahams.  They are called to follow their husbands as he moves from place to place following God’s will. Can a woman still submit and serve God when they have barely any time to establish roots or build friendships that last?  Just ask my mother-in-love.  She has faithfully walked with Daddy for fifty years as he was called to plant churches.   I am sure it wasn’t always easy.  She gave up wordly prosperity, stretched funds to keep her family clothed and fed while moving frequently.  Momma gave up to gain a priceless weath.  She and Daddy as fellow heirs of the grace of life play a vital role in laying up treasure in heaven. They have put feet to their prayers that God’s kingdom would come and His will would be done on earth as it is in heaven.  She fulfilled her role as helper and still does to this day. Imagine the joy of taking part in such a high calling for our King.   She is my example and an example for many.  May God bless pastor’s wives all across this nation who support their husband’s call to preach. 

I am thankful for this brain washing.  Truly, a washing with the word is more peace filled then the brain washing with media, American culture and humanistic pop pscyhology. 

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid.