Panic Ditch

Today I put our old-timer tractor in a ditch.  Not a big, scary ditch, just a shallow, panic ditch.

Wanting to surprise my very special agent by clearing a front road before he came home from his ugly Washington DC commute, I grabbed my cowboy hat and heard the screen door slam.

"I'll be out on the tractor!"  I yelled to the sleepy-eyed kids.  This all felt very cool.

I vaguely recalled David's ominous tidbit yesterday evening as we were bush-hogging the meadow and watching the sun set (not quite as romantic as it sounds, but still very nice).  He said off-handedly "You know, there are several people each year who die from tractor accidents."  For added impact (or maybe because I did not look appropriately appalled), he added a not-so-subtle warning "...you need to know your limits when you drive a tractor." 

All this did not dampen my enthusiasm for taking back the land.  

Just like the most wasted words in the world are "Be careful!" to Hall boys, the phrase "You need to know your limits" is just foreign to me.  

One must test her limits always.

And now I know.

Wild blackberry bushes and fragrant honeysuckle vines are not as important as finding a suitable place to turn a 1950's diesel tractor.

Heaven and Hell

"Go to hell" is a phrase that is now permitted on the Hall farm.

Gasp!

You may wonder at our newfound parenting skills, and grandma might need to visit soon, but this is one phrase we mean quite literally in certain cases.  

Ticks and poison ivy will not be in heaven.  They belong only in the depths of hades with all other manner of evil.  And that, dear friends, is where we are telling them to go.

Titus is always on the losing end of the battle with poison ivy

The back yard as of last week (now it's gone!).  Mecca for ticks and poison ivy.                                   Come visit soon!

Can you see my chicken coop through all the poison ivy?

In the two weeks we've been here, I've seen an army of caterpillars, spiders, beetles and weeds.  The array of buzzing insect life is astounding and actually quite entertaining.  It's entirely possible that God will allow these creatures and plants through the pearly gates as part of the new creation for us to enjoy forever.

But not ticks and poison ivy.

They will reside in hell for all eternity, banished there by the Halls with much relish and dancing.

A few guidelines are in order if you come visit and desire to use the phrase yourself.

You may say "Go to hell" while burning the tick that has been removed from you, your little sister, or your dog.


















You may not say it to your little sister or your dog assuming that they probably have at least one tick on them at any given moment.

You may say it to a poison ivy branch or patch that you have triumphantly hacked out and thrown into the fire pit.  You may not mutter it over your shoulder as you are traipsing through said poison ivy in search of a lost lacrosse ball.

My sister-in-law Stephanie helps me remove weeds and poison ivy.  Bless her.

Colvin surveys the battlefield

Two weeks and 100 less ticks on the farm!
Two weeks and 200 less poison ivy plants banished to hell!
There are always things to be thankful for...

A New Dance

 I hardly know where to start.

As I write, I look out over 200 acres of southern Maryland corn.  Fields of teenager stalks wave from every window.

I am choosing to ignore the cobwebs, the crumbling porch, the long day ahead, for now.

Ignoring the spectacular spider silently munching on her bug breakfast is more difficult.

There are buckets o' blogs and piles of stories ahead for you as the new days unfold, always surprising.

We are all trying to hear the Maryland farm music, find our rhythm and our way.

Our family has been tapping the Texas two-step for a long time, and this new dance will take new eyes and ears, a humble heart and some sweaty practice.

Tucked Away

There are certain sights, sounds and conversations that need not be recorded to be remembered.  Incarnate snapshots seared and pierced through-and-through our spirit, not easily erased or eroded, tucked away safely in our hearts.

Bleached two-hundred year-old cypress trees.
Bracing blue spring water and a vintage rope swing.
Texas summer afternoon.
A 12-year-old boy on the cusp of becoming a man. 

Tucked away.

A ball of fire drops west.
A stunning sphere of full moon rises east over lovely Lake Travis.  

Friends sit in easy company, toes scrunching the sand.  

Smile creases and rippling laughter mirror the water.

Tucked away.

Tattoos and keep-Austin-weird at every turn.  

Austin's shivery Barton Spring nature beneath the ancient diving board.
A dare from her brothers.  

The courage of a girl-child who wants to fly.

Tucked away.

Memories tucked away in the deep ravines and fertile soil of our heart.

Athlete-of-the-Day: Family Summer Fun

The kitchen clock reads 8:29pm and my earnest, salty, ten-year old skids into the kitchen.

"Who's the Athlete-of-the-Day?" he pants.

Titus, red-faced, has just dropped-and-given-10 for another set of push-ups in order to hopefully win the daily honor.

The Athlete-of-the-Day award requires battling it out with your family to complete push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, squats, run(s), reading (exercise for the mind, people), and drinking water.  You must complete every category to be in the running at 8:30pm when the time stops.

"Most parents just mark their kid's height on the door twice a year." laughs my friend, Angela.

A notebook and sharpie are set out on the kitchen counter each morning, and each family member has from sun-up to sun-down to get in as much as they can throughout the day.

Daily log (and dinner prep)

It's amazing where you can squeeze in a little exercise.  A set of pull-ups (in a dress) no problem!  A set of squats while you're waiting at the gas pump (a little odd and you do get some stares) gets it done!

When a family member wins seven Athlete-of-the-Day honors, they are awarded with new running shoes of their choice.  Want to join us for some summer family bonding, healthy competition with good physical fruit?

Push-ups:
10 = 1 set.
Luke (16) and David do clapping power push-ups.
Pull-ups:
10 = 1 set for Luke and David.
7 = 1 set for Chase (age 12).
5 = 1 set for Kim.
3 = 1 set for Titus (age 10).
1 = 1 set  for Colvin (age 6).
Sit ups:
30 = 1 set for all
Squats:
30 = 1 set for all
Run:
1.2 miles = 1 set..
.5 mile for Colvin (age 6)
Read:
30 minutes = 1 set
Have fun!

What do our daughters need to hear? (Part 1)

What is it that our daughters need to hear?

This school year, I spent eight Thursday afternoons at various schools with the lovely Kardivas.  Kardivas is a district-wide, after-school character club for 5th and 6th grade girls.  These remarkable young women of the most tender age are already wading knee-deep in the fast moving currents of adolescence.  It is pure joy to visit them and their mentors, sponsors and parents who desire all the best for these precious, thoughtful girls.

Eight times over, I tell them my story and help them think about theirs.  What is it they especially might need to hear?

Somewhere in the hour, I show them a picture of two girls, sisters ages 10 and 12, who live on a massive trash dump in the Phillippines.  It is hot, humid and you can only imagine the squish and the stench as the sisters spend hours before and after school slopping through the refuse collecting bits of food and scrap to sell for their family.

I ask our freshly scrubbed, sheltered, and now very quiet 5th graders what they think?

"It's not right."
"It makes me want to go there and help them."

What do our daughters need to hear?  How's this for a less-than-perfect, but a starting-somewhere start?

We have all been given a unique, innate gift, maybe two.  No one has every gift (parents - please take note).  No one has no gifts.  We have not been given these abilities in order to be more successful and more attractive than the rest, but to help set things right in the world.  

What would it look like if 40 girls in the 5th grade were observing others carefully, helping friends and family identify their unique gifts?  What would happen if those 40 were to make it a daily habit to speak out loud, thoughtfully and specifically, where they saw good and right in their friends?

I ask each Thursday group how they know what gifts they have been given?   They roll out a stunning, chatty parade of talents, passions and gifts:


"I'm kind"
"I'm funny"
"I'm good at music"
"I love animals"
"I'm good with babies".
"I like to write"

No one tells me her gift is being skinny or pretty. 

What do our daughters need to hear?
What do we need to remember again and again as women swimming in this culture?

 2011 AAA coaching retreat, Austin

Every inch of our hearts and our world is out of sorts and many things are not right.  As much as we live in beauty, plenty and opportunity, even here there is much to set right.  We can use our gifts to set things right at noisy lunch tables, sleepovers, classrooms, friendships, our own communities, our city and even/especially the dumps in the Phillippines.

I notice in you, dear one, that you have a very special gift(s) of______ that has been given to you, especially for this time.  It gives me and others such great joy to see you using that gift to think about others, even at great cost to you.

It makes you more beautiful than you'll ever know.

The cost.

We just wrapped up our third FREEDOM challenge in as many years.

The FREEDOM event requires a massive amount of sacrifice on everyone's part.  First, it commences the two weeks prior to Memorial day which is also the last weeks of the school year. Everyone is already on a human hamster wheel going warp speed, so there is a real cost to one's personal schedule.  "Me time" for twelve days is a shelved.

Second, this is a different kind of physical exercise altogether.  An hour or two of trekking through hilly trails with equipment, carrying real bodies on stretchers and holding a flag high while lugging rocks and sandbags, brings to bear fatigue of different dimensions.  There is a real cost to the preferred way one might like to exercise.  "My personal workout" is not an option.

That said, these are the very things that press on us most as we move through the twelve days of the challenge together.

Freedom is not free.

Our well-meaning schedules can leave us breathless and parched.  What is free about a pinched and anxious woman arriving to her numerous daily obligations with no breath-of-life for the people she encounters?

There is a very real and personal cost to enjoying true freedom.

Might the practice of daily sacrifice (even just an hour) result in richer communion with humanity and nature?  Can you carry a body on a stretcher as the day breaks pink and still be worried about your triceps or your abs?

For twelve days, we were reminded that our bodies are useful, dependable and strong.  Eyes flew open each day at the rigors required of our soldiers, past and present.

Hearts frequently fell faint at the required tasks of the day.  An underwater swim with weight?  Free climb a 40-foot rock?  Carry a sweaty body twice my size?  Run in the dark by the light of the moon? But then hearts soared and swelled with unbelieving pride when each of those daunting tasks and fears were conquered.

Could the daily practice of personal sacrifice usher in a freedom that will keep us alert and ready to serve when called?  We hope for twelve days some of our athletes discovered the joy in that discovery.

Well done troops!  

We hope you join us next year!

May God continue to bless America.