Her confidence was shattered today. Utterly. Dreams crushed with a single harsh sentence. Her self-esteem vanished after that much-anticipated word of praise fell seedless to the ground with thoughtless criticism.

In broad daylight he wraps his arms around her and she leans into his touch. His work stained hands leave an imprint on her light colored calico dress. She doesn’t care. She is the most loved woman in the world.

 The old man comes home to a lonely, empty house. Love burned him in his youth. Old Readers Digest books keep him company on long winter evenings. Straining, waiting for the rhythmic sound of the door, he hopes that maybe tonight one of his many nieces and nephews will grace him with a visit.

His young son sees him from the distance and runs towards him. Childlike words resounding in daddy’s ears make the problems he just left behind lessen. The miracle of this little child continues to change his life everyday. He looks up and in the distance the outline of a woman greets him. A weary heart lifts and he knows God is in his heaven and all is well with the world…

He is known in the colony as a dreamer. Able to fix everything broken. Guiding you thru his chaotic shop you will see projects new and old, countless relics from failed ideas. To you it seems nothing and nonsense, but it makes up the fabric of his being. Needless to say, you will shake your head in wonder. I once eavesdropped on a conversation between his wife and another woman. In kind words she was asked how she can stand his mess, his over-the-up dreams, and his endless chatter. The words still ring in my ears. “I respect him, I love him, and I don’t try to change him.”

I look down the road as he slowly walks towards home. A magnificent rainbow casts its spell on the rain-soaked earth around us. A promising sign perhaps? He needs it. As he comes closer I see that he is troubled, burdened down with a situation out of his hands and beyond his control. I know the reason, but I would never ask him. I simply walk beside him and point out the beauty around us. He will open up when he is ready. Maybe tomorrow, when the songs he sings every morning wake me to a new day.

She can bring out the worst in me, and the best. The kids taunt her with her weakness to argue her way out of any situation. It’s the most infuriating habit. Coming to me with tears in her eyes she tells me how they bear down on her weakness. She cries because she knows it’s true. I sit her down beside me and probe her to “prove them wrong. Show them that you can walk away without saying a word.” The light in her eyes returns when I tell her I believe in her.

 *Encounters. Situations I stumble upon thru the years…

I don’t know, but it seems to me these men could use the advice of a woman?

What started out a hobby with the return of a phenomenal trip to Africa has turned into a huge responsibility and somewhat of a chore for me. I’ve been blogging for well over two years. Back then it was a thrilling escape into an online world. But in this life nothing stays simple for long, with each new journey we embark on there are risks, consequences and sometimes unwilling bouts of honestly and truths you must expose about yourself.

Especially so in my case.

Because of the door I opened into my Hutterite lifestyle, I’ve gotten so much feedback from ppl in all walks of life. If I omitted every Hutterite reading my blog, I’d still have a healthy readership of outsiders who find our way of life fascinating. Which brings me to a letter I recently received from a fellow Hutterite reader. I had to alter/edit the letter a bit for privacy. This is just part of the letter, I might address other portions of it in the future. Knowing me, you can never be sure!

 “Lisa, I know that even you as a blogger are limited as to which subjects you may or may not address. I know that your colony has had its share of problems. I don’t know what they are. But on your blog you blog only about good things; I’m not saying you shouldn’t. But it seems that you have a perfectly well functioning society, and yet you don’t. So I wonder then, why don’t you open up a bit and talk about the reality of society, as a colony and as a Hutterite.”

I must admit the rebuke stung, even irked me. I also thought it disingenuous. But your thoughts may have drifted along those lines as well. After I calmed myself, I acknowledged the question to be a fair one. Do you, as a returning reader, feel I blog only about the pleasant things in my life? Am I trying to suggest that in my colony there are no struggles and trials? Let’s face it folks, where there are ppl there are problems. There will be clashes of opinion and personality. That’s life. This is the fallen, imperfect world that we live in. There’s nothing wrong with differing opinions as long as the Golden Rule stays intact.

But I would like to rise to the letter’s issued challenge to show that my Utopia is far from ideal or perfect.

First, I disagree that I am censored. She suggested that because I am a fellow Hutterite, I’m permitted to talk only about certain things, that if I wrote about the ‘undesirable’ issues arising among our people, I’d get into trouble. Since I’ve never attempted this in great detail, I can’t concede that being the case. But in my defense I’ll say this: I cannot in good conscience talk about situations that don’t directly involve me. To tell stories that aren’t mine to tell, to address circumstances in which I have no say so would be nonsensical and erroneous. To drag up painful past events about my colony would be resurrecting the very things I want nothing more then to leave buried. They’ve scarred us enough. Ironically though, if I’ve learned anything about life it’s that the past is never completely buried. It finds creative avenues to haunt you when you least expect it. Since this is the case with my colony the last thing I’ll do is blog in detail about the rebellion that has in the past defined my colony’s history. Dabbling about in search for a compromise on this is not an option.

Further suggested is that I portray my colony as “perfectly well functioning society”…is that what I’m doing? Correct me if I’m wrong, but the pieces I wrote about my Hutterite Heritage displayed a fair share of an imperfect, less than functional society! I was honest about the constant struggles we face in the article I wrote about The Hutterites last September. I really don’t understand what I’m missing here. To point fingers at closet drinkers, unhealthy relationships, the parents that don’t take their parental obligations seriously, the lack of spiritual guidance among our youth is not my place to discuss. I think as fellow human beings, not to mention fellow Hutterites, we’ll anonymously agree that those issues are universal. Hutterites aren’t born Christians…that’s a lifestyle each individual must chose to live, and frankly, not everyone does it. We don’t live the Utopian, more spiritual life because of a name we inherit.

What do you want me to talk/write about? What are the kinds of issues you want me to address? I can write about anything. But I will say that I use discretion and a preacher’s daughters’ judgment in what I publish.  Being raised in a minister’s home, I have the utmost respect for my father and his position. I will not address situations that are not mine to discuss. It would be fruitless and unedifying.

To be further forthright about myself, as an individual I cringe at the thought of being too open about myself. You may have noticed that I never did post my last Hutterite Heritage piece. The whole truth concerning that is that I cannot make myself do it. There are truths in it about me I don’t want to admit to myself, least of all to the world. My attempt to revise, simplify, reword and even mellow it out shatters it to pieces. So it will remain absent from your eyes until I can own up to it.

Lastly, and for the record, this almost forces me to chronicle of how, seventeen years ago, my colony’s existence give birth. Even that is history. Unusually, in repetitive order, colonies branch out when they’ve reach too large in number. A plot of new land is purchased and a daughter colony is born. The mother colony bears the responsibility of nursing this new colony into a functioning industry that can stand on its own feet. This process can take years, but when all is said and done, the two colonies part ways by dividing assets and families. It’s been our way since the beginning of the Hutterite’s existences.

That isn’t the way my colony was established.

But I don’t know if I can do the story justice. I was eleven years old when we moved here. I remember the excitement of the moment. It was raining the day we arrived and mom admonished us to stay out of the mud puddles. Large planks of wood served as makeshift sidewalks. The young ladies, our neighbors, from the trailer just a few yards down waved over at us in greeting. With child-like innocence I waved back. I was bursting with excitement.

Instinctual observation in a child’s life is razor sharp when events happen out of routine. It didn’t take me long to realize that all was not well with certain people in my colony. The memories are forever branded in me. I don’t think they will ever dim or fade. I have no desire to recall them, revisit and charade alongside them like old friends. Forgive me, but I haven’t the courage or mental energy for such an exertion.

But if I learned one thing about my colony’s history, it’s that the past is never just the past. It seems to be the future as well. I never thought I’d see the day I dread it.

 But today I do. 

I will close for now. Any thoughts left on this subject will keep for another day. I would like to talk of just the opposite next time. What it is like to finally experience a brotherhood “who dwells together in unity.”

(my) baptism – March 2010

I miss home.

I decided to post some photos (for you and me) from 100 miles away. Laptops and camera’s were a brilliant invention…weren’t they? I can browse thru hundreds and hundreds of photos of the children and the beauty of familiar scenes from home, matching the faces to the voices of the children in my head. I miss the fresh vegetables that decorate the plate during the summer months (city food gets old really fast, so do hotel rooms–sigh!). I want to breath in the fresh air of cool evenings and watch the sun sink lower and lower into the horizon. Tease mom working on her flower pots and watch for glimpses of dad around the colony. Dad is the strength of my colony. I know it takes the teamwork and commitment of everyone involved…but dad’s life and his daily example in how he serves and gives, his wisdom and compassion…it blows me away. This commitment to living this life so selflessly inspires me to want much greater things…

But I don’t miss the phone ringing, and Amos chasing me away every time I come within his line of vision, or picking up popsicle wrappers everywhere I go, and trying to figure out who’s the guilty one after a tattle-tale stopped me on my way home…

But there is no place like home, the comfort of familiar places and faces is a luxury that doesn’t get old for me. To walk again and again down the same beaten path to watch the sunset, knowing that you’ll probably come across a raccoon or deer that will scurry into hiding upon my intrusion, I will stumble on some herb missed the day before, but for the life of me, I won’t be able to idenify it…I will soak in the reverent solitude of the evening as the colors of the sun splash life unto the water and bring into reflection the goodness of God… 

No time to blog, sorry folks. Just been too busy. Summer is a busy time when very little time gets spent in the house…but I thought I’d share a bit of other worthwhile reads with you…

Lanier over at Lanier’s Books is opening an online store for old books! I’m very excited! If you love old, dusty books you are in for a treat. This beautiful lady knows how to track down really good, valuable, wholesome reading material. Watch her site for the opening date. Her little niche is one of my favorite places on the web. Her writing makes mine look less than average, believe me.

If you haven’t picked up Debi Pearl’s newest book Preparing to be a Help Meet it’s one that you’ll want to put on your wishlist. Even though it costs a whooping $20 dollars:( It’s a valuable resource and not everyone has a sister-in-law named Carrie who’ll buy it for you…!

What is Emotional Purity? Is there even such a thing? Find out what the ladies at Young Ladies Christian Fellowship have to say about it. Very worthwhile read. I’ve been reading this blog for about a decade and it’s also among my favorites.

I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Harris family. You might remember the book I Kissed Dating Good-bye by Josh Harris. It left it’s mark in thousands of young people lives all over the world. But there are more Harris boys. The Rebelution is doing it’s part on making a splash on the world as well. After publishing an amazing book called Do Hard Things, the younger, twin Harris brothers are carrying on a powerful legacy left behind my their late mother, Sono Harris. She recently lost the in a battle to cancer. She must have been an incredible woman.

I’ve shared this website with you before. But just in case you had a memory lapse you’ll want to check it out. It’s one of the best homesteading blog you’ll encounter. Aspiring Homemarker is one family’s journey to orgainic homesteading. It’s an adventure! I don’t know how they clean their white dresses though, hopefully not by hand!

I’m heading for another workshop this coming week. I’ll be seeing some friends at this one, so I’m looking forward to it. What I’m not looking forward to is spending four days in a hotel. Hotels and I are not friends. They freak me out. I can’t help thinking that it wasn’t really cleaned properly. On top of that I’m not a gracious traveler, so I’ll probably be a ready to run home by Thursday.

On a lighter note, I will be getting away from garden work for a few days…Neener, neener! I’m kidding! Our garden is small, most colonies would laugh at it, and be jealous! We are done with string beans, raspberries, and the tomatoes are turning so we’ll have some by next week. That’s exciting! It’s been the right kinda weather, boy this heat is draining. The corn in our area are higher than I am already…I have to walk all the way around them to see the sunset.

Have to run now, my buns will be ready for the oven soon. Saturday lunch is my favorite meal…a hot, juicy hamburger soaking in its savor on a warm, fresh bun…best taste in the world…

I was cleaning my room when I looked out my window and saw this. I thought it darling and ran for the “memory catcher”…it brought make memories of my own yesterdays…best friends one minute, quarreling the next, whispering secrets and swapping shoes…oh, to be a little girl again!

I needed to laugh. I’d been strung tighter than a rubber band ‘round a bulging pack of flashcards…

 …it was during my cookweek, he played a good one by me. I’d made a very rich butterscotch dessert swimming in cream cheese plus loaded with whipping cream. Being we have it only about once a year and since it’s so very delicious, I panned him a gracious piece adding, “Don’t eat the whipping cream, Dad.”

 It was a half-serious, half joking remark but I was surprised he didn’t comment. He has a very whimsical, witty sense of humor. A touch of sarcasm, yet layered with humor. It’s pretty hard to pin him down or get the better of him. Least I’ve never managed too…!

 After lunch I saw him coming towards my table, dessert plate in hand. With a twinkle in his eye he slid it toward me and said loud enough for all to hear, “nehm, von duhs mo nit guhnst.” Portioned in the corner of his plate was a perfectly shaped, squared-inch piece of whipping cream…making it all that was left of his dessert.

 He walked away amid a throng of laughter and amused looks surrounding us. I couldn’t help but laugh at the touché gesture. I couldn’t come up with even the corniest rebuttal! I got up for my chair to chase after him. Catching up with him at the end of the buffet line I wrapped my arms around him for a hug.

 I love that man.

The Hutterites (the Plain people in general) are often accused for their lack of physical and verbal affection towards each other. Begrudgingly books will admit we’ll lavish affection towards children, but among adults it’s hardly ever displayed. The statement is only as true as you make it.

I discussed this subject with a friend a while ago. After listening she admitted that while it isn’t one of our ppl’s strong traits to overuse “I love you’s” or go out of our way to hug ppl we are very hospitable, generous and sociable. “I love my parents with all my heart,” she reasoned, “but I can’t remember the last time I told them I loved them or hugged them.”

When asked why she couldn’t answer.

I don’t doubt her admission of love. I know exactly where she’s coming from. But in recent years I’ve since made it a conscious decision to take the time to hug my parents and tell them I loved them. Such blunt confessions come much harder with my siblings. In my case, I simply have too much pride to do it. We are taught to keep our emotions inside and when we leave the doorsteps of childhood we dismantle much of the visible affection shown to us as children. Reaching adulthood doesn’t squash the desire within us to love and be loved by the ppl closest to us. We need gestures of affection no matter how old we are. If you believe it fades with age, visit a nursing home and notice how easily they’ll reach out just to touch you. To me that’s a sign of loneliness and a need for affection. We all know that children need to be praised and shown affection to, but isn’t that need ageless? Just like unkind words will crush us, names of endearment, gestures of physical affection, and the words “I love you” from mom and dad builds confidence in us, it makes us swell up with emotion and self-worth. I’m not afraid to admit I depend on my parents to show me affection and advice me. Not only do I need it but the child in me thrives on it.  Showing affection isn’t always about doing and saying the things you want to hear or do. Sometimes it means being open to just the opposite, but in the most loving and affectionate way.

Every major decision in my life, obstacle, triumphs and trial I bring to my parents. Sometimes the advice on the receiving end is in union of what I feel, other times it’s a gentle rebuke and if I’m honestly I’ll admit it’s even been harsh. But it’s shaped me and made me a stronger individual for it. I really do believe that my parents’ affection played a vital role in saving me from the life of further rebellion. Sapping from a healthy, affectionate relationship comes the desire for their advice in everything we do…even if it’s a hard pill to shallow. If this weren’t true than why is it that we strive for our parents’ approval and blessing in decisions we make in life?  

Does your life illustrate the needed gestures of affection towards those who live under the same roof with you? It’s a tough challenge, I know. But there are more than one ways to demonstrate affection. One doesn’t necessarily need to make a show of flapping arms and using overly mushy words. Start by believing that you can learn how to be affectionate. 

“If tomorrow never comes will they know who much you loved them…”

I just love before and after projects. I have several on the go right now (presently on a stand-still though) and hope to get them done before starting all over again on a brand new school term. Summer is flying by, isn’t it?

Neuhof Kleine Schul

Isn’t it amazing what you can redeem from something that’s worn, tattered and broken…?  The men worked hard to make a livable Kleine Schul. It has a wrap around porch and is beautiful inside. I never believed that the awful smell would go away for it had been standing empty for years. But it’s wonderfully new now. Totally transformed with lots of open space for the young children to roam and play. Good night. Gonna try to catch an early one today. Naomi went home to visit her family and the house seems to echo…

I was under the impression that I couldn’t teach science…not the way the complex teacher’s edition laying lifeless on my desk instructed me to anyway. It has caused me great distress to say the least. I needed a different approach, something more real and hands-on. I’d read what Charlotte Mason had to say and I believe it. Wished I could do it but I’m the kind of person who needs to see something before I can successful pass the baton unto the next person. In this case the recipients are my kids and the race in question was science.

 I needed to get a handle to understanding and teaching it so it wouldn’t intimidate me and so I could motivate and excite my kids to learn along with me. Because, basically, everything I know about science I am learning as I teach. Actually, that’s the way it is with most of my teaching. I just want to do it differently then it was presented to me as child. Judging from the way our kids love school, I like to think that we’re doing something right.

 Hence my attendance this past week to a Water, Wildlife and Human Connection workshop. It exceeded my highest exceptions. Not only was the instructor brilliant, informative, hands-on, the workshop was in-sync and totally compatible for my Charlotte Mason drive. If science would’ve been presented to me like that as a child, I wouldn’t have failed in it. If I will utilize the three curriculum guides that came along with the workshop my students will take away something that will benefit them for the rest of their lives. All I ask is that I can pass unto them the love of learning and the power books posses.

Science has been complicated. It really proves to be quite the opposite. At least when you get down to the nitty-gritty with the ppl that expert the field. When you go for a nature walk the most important thing you can do is observe and identify. Anyone can learn to observe. Takes time, but with practice you become skillful at it. Identifying is a trade. If your memory betrays you, pull out the field guides. You learn why cattails are fundamentally important to the wetlands, what their properties are and why they are essential in breaking down sewage solids. You will also learn that are a very edible plant. You will learn, along with your students, that the male horsetail looks a lot like bamboo and that the female plant looks excitingly different! You can imagine how thrilled they’ll be with that discovery!! You will learn why the wetland/prairie plants have long, narrow leaves as opposed to those say, in the rain forest where the plant leaves are larger and round. But why is that? It makes much more sense when it comes to you in form of a teacher who is passionate about what she does and you see a keen light in her eyes. Her mind is a well of knowledge that you all but envy!

 What more needs to be said? Get outside, go to the creek with a net and see it all come to life when you connect with it. Brave the tall prairie grass to find out who hides in the burrows and try to identify the tracks, the flowers and herbs, the teeth marks. Dissect some owl pallets and see if you can’t figure out what he had for lunch today.

 Motivate and inspire. Be passionate about what you present to the bright eyes and open minds that think the world is theirs to conquer. You have one of the highest calling in the world.

Special thanks to Bobby Jo for sharing her photos with me. I’d love to add more. But photo uploading takes way to long. More later perhaps.