Really, we aren't exactly 'city slickers.' But to call what we've done a simple 'lifestyle change' would be a bit of an understatement.
Nine years ago, my husband, Jeff, and I built our dream home. In Michigan. We had built numerous homes together and this was our piece de resistance. Cedar and stone, set among trees on a gently rolling ten acres overlooking lake frontage on an all sports lake. One sweet gal nick named it the Christmas House, with the green roof and burgundy window trim it was decorated all year long. The only way I was going to move from that home was on a stretcher to my grave site. Ah, the folly of youth.
Today I live on a small ranch in Missouri.
Honestly, I'm not sure I could accurately explain how we got here. I'm sure the story will unfold over time. Let's just suffice it for now as "a God thing." Usually when I tell people that, they smile and nod and don't ask any further questions. I think that's kind of funny, because really - what IS 'a God thing?' And why don't people ask what I mean?
God is like that you know - has you do crazy things, loves you wildly, moves you to tears and joy and hope, or Missouri.
Am I out of my element? Yes. Daily.
Of course that means I need to depend on God more. Oh, were it that I would remember that just a little more frequently... Up until about seven years ago I rarely if ever depended on God. I did believe in God. I was not arrogant enough to believe that this amazing world, all its creatures and the miracle of human life were an accident. I prayed to God, once in a while and usually as a last option. You know, after I tried all my own fabulous ideas first. I did have an ongoing conversation with Him about how my life should be. I also recall frequently questioning God about why my life was just such a mess? I believe depending on God is a learned discipline. It's also a journey not a destination, at least not in this lifetime.
Today I was attacked by a crazed killer rooster, Rooster Joe to be exact. I'm just now talking to God about that one. As I innocently fed our beautiful hens some wilted lettuce I was assaulted from behind by a squawking feathered flurry of fury. He made my shin bleed through my jeans! I raised this cute little rooster from a dipped in blue dye fuzz ball to Mighty Rooster Joe. We love each other. He sits on my lap. He turned vicious psycho poultry on me. Of course I was in the Hen yard, I designed for him to protect. And I was flirting up his Ladies, sweet talking them with yesterday's salad.
So, as any self respecting rancher would do after the attack - I pouted. Truly stuck out my lower lip and let my feelings get all hurt over sweet Rooster Joe, my friend, turning on me. Then I got mad. I asked Jeff what he thought about Joe Noodle Soup. Then I realized I would have to harvest Joe for the soup and that kind of turned me off the whole scenario. I mean, honestly, pluck a chicken? I still tell my children that chicken and hamburger come from the grocery store. Even though we now own chicken and cows.
So where is the 'God thing' in this? Everywhere. From start to finish. God knew before the beginning of time exactly where I would be today. Had I bothered to consult Jesus before I sulked and schemed over Rooster Joe's betrayal and fantasy demise, we could have had a good chuckle together. Because it really was funny. Rooster Joe was doing his job. I might add that he was doing a stellar job protecting his women. He was being the Rooster God made him to be. And I was being so human, putting all my feelings and baggage on a poor rooster.
The smile on my face and the peace in my heart, now that's a God thing.
