To Quiet the Storm

I feel like life dumped a big ol bag of marbles out in front of me and gave me a push to start running. I've been running and running, getting no where. Some days I feel like I can hardly take a breath or even see where I'm trying to get to. There are the moments where I'm bankrupt of any emotions; I feel simply drained.

rest

We've had some heart achy things grasp hold of us in life; we've had surprises and challenges. There have been moments of overwhelming hilarity and happiness. This season for us is just full.

When I lay down my heart pounds in my ears and I beg for a moment of calm.  I expect too much of people-to fill my heart up with that happy feeling. I exhaust myself even more trying to fit that patience into my day, like it's an awkward piece of a puzzle that wasn't cut right.

Last night my husband was out pulling a calf, my girl was asleep in bed and I had a moment. That Moment rained down on me. It's when I realized that we don't need to chase that quietness, we just have to simply Be Still. It's right there.

Jesus drops stuff in our laps all day long and we don't have to chase it like a wild animal.

There is sweet encouragement in the kindness of strangers. 

There is tranquility in the sunset.

Laughter of a child is balm for any soul.

When I am still I'm overcome with gratitude for all these simple things. Oh, we all talk about the simple things, the simple life, but yes and amen, they are actually there. We just have to quiet the noise of life down and there they are.

If you just stop and take that breath, it's all right there, you don't have to find it. It's right there.

Hoping that in quietness you will find your strength today.

Muck Boots

Ladies, let's talk boots.

I bet you're enthused, sitting there with your cup of coffee, thinking I'm going to chat fashion with you. You're thinking about those Frye boots or a nice pair of Lucheese that you've been wanting.

I'm here to tell you about a whole new realm in fashion.

Hollywood here thinks she would like to chat about boots. Do you see the reflection of white in her sun goggles? The fact that the goggles were busted out is proof that that white won't last too much longer.

Kids from the prairies are part mud.  You probably didn't grow up here if you haven't had your gum boot fall off , trudging through that ooze, and  kept on going in your sock feet because your feet  were so cold in springtime weather.

We still have feet of snow on the ground, but it won't be long 'till we are swimming in sludge. A big ol' nasty, mire of nothing but pure dirty, that makes a grown man grin as he digs trenches in the lane. That huge ball of fire in the sky is packing heat on some of these afternoons and my little girl has discovered the joy of puddles. Trucks are filthy, the farmers in the coffee shop are grinning, and gophers are running around on top of the snow. We are busting out the Muck boots.

I mentioned Muck boots in a previous post and I received an email from a lady thinking it was funny that us Albertan's call our gum boots Muck boots. Girls, we don't just call em Muck boots-they are an actual brand of insulated rubber boots here that are meant to keep your feet warm and dry all year long. They are a thing of beauty.  Pair them with a dirty ol' Carhartt coat and you're Redneck stylin'. I love these bad boys so much that I'm writing a whole post on these blessed chore boots.

Back in the day there weren't such luxuries as these treasures. Ranchers would wade out in the sludge to check calves and come in with stained socks much to their wive's dismay. I'm sure no one really minded that much; you're just thrilled Spring arrived here.

One of my favorite famed 'muddy' stories in the family took place right where my folks live now. It was my Great Grandpa's place many moons ago, the legendary hero we all called Pappa. Years ago, when Charolais bulls were relatively new to Canada, these big beasts got out and were heading to get in with the heifers. My dad was out with Pappa in the barnyard soup when Pappa started hollering to beat the band at my Uncle, at the top of the pasture, to cut the bulls off. With all the bellowing Pappa's teeth flew out of his mouth and landed right in the slop and manure. Losing his teeth paused the hollering, but Pappa just gave those teeth a quick wipe, popped them back in his mouth and commenced whooping. Only in Alberta- we don't let the mud and manure get in the way!