VOTE! Your American privilege and freedom...

The Right to Choose

Some Conservatives have decided not to vote in the upcoming election because they feel neither candidate stands for the Biblical principles their particular faith teaches. I can understand this to a point, but SOMEONE will end up in the White House and we, as Americans, have the right to choose, to vote for a candidate with integrity and moral character, despite his religious persuasion. No President can legislate religious faith, but he can lead by an example of integrity of honest and decent character, someone who honors life and the pursuit of happiness, who is respected by both believer and skeptic, someone who other national leaders can esteem.

          

When someone tells me they are not voting, fire rises in my bosom. I am descended from a long line of ancestors who bled the ground red for the liberty to choose a leader. I have visited their graves, read their stories and I honor their great courage and sacrifice. I am a Daughter of the American Revolution, and I will not forsake this right to cast my vote simply because neither candidate suits my ideals. Someone DIED for this right. If you don’t honor this freedom to cast your vote, then you do not understand true liberty and what it cost our ancestors. If you choose not to vote…it may cost you, not with your life, but with your liberty.

VOTE! Someone died to give you this freedom!

Autumn at the farm...

BACK DOOR FRIENDS ENTER HERE

On the farm where I grew up and where Laura still lives with her husband, there is something of my childhood that still clings to the adult me. Each season, and especially in autumn, I spend time there, recalling long ago days when life was truly simple. I can still smell those familiar and pungent odors that never quite leave your remembering; drying leaves, smoky bonfires, the rain against the screen door, and crisp frosty mornings and county fair time complete with pumpkin displays. Here are a few for you to enjoy.

 Laura's chickens are free range now that the garden is harvested

Pumpkins for sale!

Harvest arrangement in the farm kitchen

Flowers in the old chair

The artistry of God

Looking north from the farm

King of the pumpkins

The farm is so picturesque in autumn, that many people stop by to take pictures. They especially like this antique farm wagon that Steve sells pumpkins and vegetables from. He also has a farm stand decorated for each season.

 The "new" old looking addition to the red brick house

 Hammock under the peach trees. A good place to rest

Have a wonderful and memorable season

Closing Wildrose cottage for the Season

He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Closing 296 for the season

 Closing our cottage for the season is not easy to do. It is like shutting the door to our respite, our secret sanctuary, our special hide-away from the rest of the world. But…here we are, watching the spectacular color unfold, peak and shimmer in brilliance, hesitate for a moment, then fall away never to return in quite the same way. True, if the Lord tarries, there will be another autumn, but not quite like this one. It causes us to realize that we must make the most of each season of our life, of each day, even each moment.

 Wildrose Cottage in Autumn

All the gold is not in California

Still blooming in late October. Doreen's cottage is lovely with flowers

Looking through the trellis

 

 Nancy's Cottage...just down the hill

This garden angel was placed in 14th street garden by an anonymous person

Everyone who strolls by enjoys seeing her there

 

 

 My little corner of the world

 

 

 

The end of summer flora 

Until next spring... 

 I will be posting photos I took just before closing the cottage last week. Some are of the farm where I grew up and where Laura and her husband still live. Some are of our cottage community and others are just because I like them. Enjoy!

The Shepherdess speaks

From time to time, I will be posting some excerpts from "Women of the Secret Place" and this is a favorite that has been published in other books as well. The theme is touching, a slice of life that plays the chords of our heart.

 

KINDRED SPIRITS

“Restrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears,

 for your work will be rewarded, declares the Lord”

Jeremiah 31:16

     The dog stood beside the road, her head moving like a pendulum, watching car after car whip by. At the first break in traffic, her head stopped moving and her gaze fixed on something lying in the road. Another passing car blocked her tentative step toward the object. Again she ventured onto the road, and, again, a car stopped her progress.

     I spied what held the mama dog’s attention—a lifeless puppy lying in the far lane of the road. “Oh, my goodness, that’s me,” I said aloud. I burst into tears as I recognized the parallel of my attempts to rescue my wounded, drug addicted son, Josh. I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “I see you running back and forth, grappling to reach your son.”

     Watching the desperate dog, I wondered how many times I dodged logic and reason in my attempts to rescue my son. How many tears fell as I waited for him to beat the addiction holding our family hostage? How many times I did anything I could to avoid walking away in despair. My answer rang clear: as many as it takes.

     As a mother, I cling to every thread of hope that keeps my child alive for one more day. I start each day with a prayer: “Let today be the day he is set free.” The urge to give up on my son often outweighs the desire to stand and fight one more battle. The temptation to speak sharply, or not at all, looms large when confronted with another lie. The disgust I feel when another item goes missing jerks me back to the reality of his addiction. I cannot leave him in the road; he is alive and with life there is hope.

     Children stumble and fall whether they are toddlers, teenagers or adults. Mothers instinctively know how and when to kiss their children’s boo boos and send them back into the world. The scraped knees of childhood sometimes evolve into broken hearts and shattered dreams of adulthood that are much harder to kiss away.

     Jeremiah 31:15-17 sustains me when the stumbles outnumber the successful sendoffs. This is what the Lord says: A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are no more. This is what the Lord says; Restrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears, for your work will be rewarded, declares the Lord. They will return from the land of the enemy. So there is hope for your future, declares the Lord. Your children will return to their own land.

     The dog left her puppy alone in the road. I will not leave my son. I continue to care and seek God on his behalf. After all, that’s what mothers do.

~Sharron Cosby

Autumn

There is a certain song the locust sings at summer’s end, and when I hear it, I too, feel the sad, melancholy tune of endings. Yet, in the death of summer foliage and fields of grain, fruit and gardens, there is a colorful beauty that cannot be matched in any other season. It is my favorite time of year, but then, every season is my favorite! I cannot choose which I love best.

 Emily in the leaves. She is the color of leaves and autumn

Down the lane to Tanglewood

Home in the south. Still summer here but it is lovely in winter

My favorite tree. When it rains, the limbs nearly touch the ground

The queens and the oaks rule

The Lady of Clyde

 

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