Guest blogger

18 07, 2014

Chicken Circles, Crop Circles and Cowardly Dogs – Miller Farm Friday

By |2014-07-18T06:00:15-05:00July 18th, 2014|Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger, Miller Farm Friday|0 Comments

A guest blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

Our chickens are really entertaining to watch.  During the dry season they regularly “splash” around in the dirt.  I suppose it is like taking a dirt bath.  Anyway they leave little hollows in the ground where they bathe.

This one made me think of crop circles.chicken circle

You know – those mysterious circles that appear in crops all over the world.

crop circles

No one is really sure how they got there and many websites are devoted to speculations.  The most prevailing thought is that aliens land in the crops and leave an imprint of their ship.

So this begs the question – are my chickens from outer space?

In researching this possibility I discovered a cartoon:

cowardly dog

So now I have another question – if the chickens really are from outer space, which of our dogs is Courage the Cowardly Dog?

Anyone have a suggestion?

26 06, 2014

Mother by Mother. Battle by Battle.

By |2014-06-26T06:00:31-05:00June 26th, 2014|Guest blogger|3 Comments

A Guest Blog by Jody Payne

June. Time to shop for a swimsuit. Sob! But that’s another blog for another day. Don’t ask. I can’t discuss it. Not until I lose about a thousand pounds.

Anyway, a friend and I decided to face the inevitable and support each other through this tragedy of middle-aged shopping. We were determined to find swimsuits that showed off our awesomeness while hiding the bulges that go with it. There must be one out there.

swimsuit shoppingBy the way, don’t put this off until school is out like we did. It’s intimidating shopping next to a hundred pound eighteen year old. We found ourselves at the swimsuit rack standing next to a mother shopping with her teenage daughter.

The daughter had a lot to learn about respect, but frankly, so did the mother. It was pitiful and the argument escalated until it ended with the mother saying between clenched teeth, “Just who do you think you are?”

I understood the woman’s frustration. Her daughter was determined to buy a bikini that would have made the average Brazilian blush while doing the samba on a nude beach.

My friend and I glanced at each other with a mutual cringe. I happen to know that my friend has heard this demeaning phrase more than once from her own mother.

My first response was to get out of there. Quick. I glanced around the room looking for the nearest exit.

However, my friend put her hand on the teenager’s arm and said, “I’ll tell you who you are. You are a beautiful young woman with a beautiful body. You have every right to be proud of it. Just remember this, it’s yours, and yours alone. It doesn’t belong to anyone else. Because you do have a beautiful body, other people are going to want to possess it. Control it. Don’t let them. Don’t give it away. Don’t let them use you. What is yours is yours and yours alone. Their greediness is their problem, not yours. Take a tip from Gypsy Rose Lee who said, ‘Always leave them wanting to see more.’ That woman was a famous burlesque queen who left the stage modestly clothed amid standing ovations from hungry eyed men.”

The girl was stunned into silence. So my friend used the reprieve to pull several more suitable suits (pun intended) from the rack and hand them to the girl. “Try these on. They’ll look great on you.”

I think the girl was too shocked to argue with these clueless adults so she took the suits and stomped into the dressing room. Probably just to escape us.

After a few minutes, she pulled back the curtain from the dressing room and she peeked out timidly. I realized I was holding my breath. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one because when she emerged there was an audible exhalation of relief from all three of us.

She looked gorgeous. The one-piece suit covered her very few flaws and made the most of her admirable assets. When she saw our reaction, she lost her hunched over posture. Her head came up and her shoulders back. A wide confident smile replaced her surly frown. Princess Di would have been envious.

The mother burst into tears. She turned to my friend and said, “You nailed it. Why couldn’t I have said that?”

My friend shrugged, “Because you’re a mother. Your job is impossible. Mine is a whole lot easier. I’m a stranger.”

The mother whispered, “How can I ever thank you?”

My friend grinned. “Just pass it on to the next stranger who needs help. We can win this war. Battle by battle. Stranger by stranger. Mother by mother.”

As we exited, I looked back to a beautiful young lady hugging her mother. Tears streamed down their faces. I hope to see either those two or someone like them when my own daughter tries on her first adult bathing suit.

And so, pass it on, okay? Battle by battle. Stranger by stranger. We can win this one. Mother by mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

jody

Jody Payne is

a writer (fiction and non-fiction),

a horse woman (dressage, no less),

an animal lover (just ask her two rescue dogs),

and most of all she’s southern through and through.

 

You can find her on FB: https://www.facebook.com/jodypaynesays

Her website: www.jodypayne.net

20 06, 2014

Therapy Chickens – Miller Farm Friday

By |2014-06-20T06:00:37-05:00June 20th, 2014|Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger, Miller Farm Friday|1 Comment

By Guest Blogger Chicken Wrangler Sara

We had a student from Uzbekistan living with us last school year. He was very quiet and spent most of his time in his room.

He came out to see the International Space Station pass overhead one night. Another time he came out to see the chickens hatching.

We had set quail eggs, bantam eggs and chicken eggs. Three bantam eggs, one chicken egg and one quail egg hatched. chick with brooder Over the process of several days, Andrey would check the incubator each morning to see the progress.

He helped me move them out to the brooder in the garage, and we stood to watch them for quite a while. He took pictures as I did.

He told me his sister had a chick one time.  She really loves animals.  He was going to send the picture to her.

It was a rare glimpse into his life far away and made me think how animals could be good for the soul.

A friend is involved in a therapy dog program that sounds wonderful. She and her dog go to the hospital to visit sick children.

We considered training one of our dachshunds to be a therapy dog and decided chickens can have an equally calming effect on people.

Watching the little quail try to hide under the bigger chicks made Andrey forget how hard it was to be so far from home. Holding the baby chicks could melt away any stress from the day.

frizzle chickOne of the bantam chicks is a frizzle – its feathers are sticking up all over just like Frizz’s feathers.

I can’t look at it without smiling.

So now, whenever I am overwhelmed, sad or just need a break, I step outside for some chicken therapy.

 

19 06, 2014

Anyone Can Live a Life of Purpose

By |2014-06-19T06:00:58-05:00June 19th, 2014|Company's Coming, Guest blogger|1 Comment

A Guest Post by Jennifer Slattery

He always arrived late, many times after most of the food had been served. He wore his curly hair and beard long, and though it was clear he did his best to tame it, his hair resisted his efforts. He spent his days at the public library, and though he had a place to stay, he spent a fair amount of time on the streets.

To passersby, he seemed odd, maladjusted, and maybe a little… off.

He was unemployed; and listening to his stories, considered by many to be unemployable.

Outside of the biweekly meals offered at Takin’ it to the Streets, a homeless ministry in the Omaha Metro, I’m not sure how he survived. I suspect he received disability or some sort of state assistance.

Although he had a sister, I’m not sure if he ever saw her, or if he had any other family to speak of. I’m not sure if he even had friends, at least, relationships you or I would deem as friendships.

To most, his situation probably seemed hopeless. I imagine, if I were in his shoes, I’d slip into a pit of despair. Or bitterness.

Likely both.

But I sat beside him, listening to him talk about his Savior, I was awed and humbled by the praise that poured fourth—a praise rooted in purpose.

For you see, this man, this child of God, knew he was here for a reason and that God had a crucial, eternal task assigned specifically to him.

He knew God was in control, even when the world seemed chaotic and hopeless. With his faith and identity so rooted in Christ, he was able to rise above his circumstances, using every moment and every encounter to share God’s goodness and truth.

He told the angry, homeless woman pushing a rusted cart that God loved her.

He shared candy others had given him with those less fortunate, and yes, though he had so very little, he did notice those who were less fortunate than he was. Because that’s what happens when we take our eyes off of ourselves and our problems and place them on our Savior—everything becomes just a little brighter, just a little more hopeful, and a great deal more eternal.

As I listened to him share about these people he had touched, witnessed to, prayed with and for, I realized just how beautiful this thing called grace is.

Because of God’s grace, we each have a purpose—a divinely-ordained and eternal task assigned to us. More than that, we are each lovingly crafted to perform that work which God assigned to us long before He even breathed life into our frail lungs.

But looking around at the hardened faces all around us, a second realization came just as quickly.

We can all lose sight of our purpose. We can become so focused on our problems and the chaos around us, we can be consumed with anger and bitterness.

The choice is ours, and it is ours to make each and every day. Which way of life will you choose?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

headshot2013Jennifer Slattery writes Missional Romance for New Hope Publishers, a publishing house passionate about bringing God’s healing grace and truth to the hopeless. She also writes for Christ to the World Ministries, Crosswalk.com, and Internet Café Devotions.

Jennifer blogs at JenniferSlatteryLivesOutLoud and you can PRE order her new release by clicking on the cover:

BeyondIDocoverMarriage . . . it’s more than a happily ever after. Eternally more. Ainsley Meadow’s encounter with a woman, her child, and their abuser sparks a passion that threatens her engagement. Will seeing beyond the present unite her and her fiancé or tear them apart?

Raised by a hedonist mother, who cycles through jobs and relationships like wrapping paper on Christmas morning, Ainsley falls into a predictable and safe relationship with Richard, a self-absorbed socialite psychiatrist. But as her wedding nears, a battered woman and her child spark a long-forgotten dream and ignites a hidden passion. One that threatens to change everything, including her fiancé. To embrace God’s best and find true love, this security-seeking bride must follow God with reckless abandon and realize that marriage goes Beyond I Do.

 

12 06, 2014

CLEAR EYES, FULL HEART, CAN’T LOSE

By |2014-06-12T06:00:01-05:00June 12th, 2014|Guest blogger|1 Comment

A guest blog by Jody Payne

Sh-h-h, please don’t let on about this.

I was never a big fan of football before moving to Texas. And I admit I still don’t completely understand the game itself.

Okay, that was a lie. I have no idea what is going on out there.

A friend of mine, David Patton, way up in New Jersey, that’s someplace north of the Mason/Dixon Line, told me to watch Friday Night Lights.

We went to high school together and sat through many football games on Friday nights. He watched the games, and I hid my eyes and held my breath every time I heard that horrible crack sound of bodies crashing into each other.

But I’m older, and hopefully, made of sterner stuff now. I can take it without sobbing out loud as long as I see the player get up and walk again.

CLEAR EYESThe thing is this: Friday Night Lights is dead on. Who wrote the script anyway?

Everywhere I go in Willow Flats, people are talking about the chances that the high school team might win the game next Friday night.

Coaches get free haircuts if they will just make a few quotable comments.

Women with blue hair are delayed trying to get their grocery shopping done at the grocery store because they’re interrogated about their grandson’s chances of being able to start on Friday night.

At the feed store, farmers discuss the value of certain plays.

Plays? There are formal plays? It always looked to me like the whole idea was just to get the ball through that H shaped thingy at the end of the field. Apparently there’s more to it than that. It’s not that easy. Who knew?

I spend every Friday night sitting on a cold, hard bleacher. I watch my breath in the wind of a blue northern that has made it all the way from Canada with the sole intention of to drying up my lips and making sure I will have a sore throat when I wake up Saturday morning.

Maybe that’s the takeaway life lesson. Life isn’t always easy, but it can be a lot of fun.

What I like about the game down here is what it does for communities. Does football teach our boys that if you want something bad enough you have to endure a few bruises? That some things are worth the effort?

I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I read somewhere that Texas contributes more than its share of soldiers to our military. I wouldn’t doubt it. These people are descendants of hardy pioneers, and they strive to teach their children to do their best.

Here in Texas, living on the welfare of the government for generations is something to be gotten over with as fast as possible. Of course, sometimes it’s necessary to get a boast up, but then a Texan is expected to become self-sustaining as fast as he can and give the next person a hand up. It’s passing on the good stuff kind of society in the Lone Star state.

I’m proud of the people in my new hometown, and as much as I love to travel, I know I will always come home to Willow Flats, TX.

I can’t miss the big game on Friday night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Jody Payne is a writer (fiction and non-fiction), a horse woman (dressage, no less), an animal lover (just ask her two rescue dogs Annie and Janie or my two four-legged boys, Toby and Buster), and most of all she’s southern through and through.jody

Visit her on FB: https://www.facebook.com/jodypaynesays

Her website: www.jodypayne.net

5 06, 2014

Migrant Mother and Her Story

By |2014-06-05T06:00:35-05:00June 5th, 2014|Company's Coming, Guest blogger|2 Comments

By Guest Blogger Jane Carver

If I said the migrant mother in the picture made during the depression, you’d know exactly what photo I’m talking about…

migrant mother photo depression era for 06-05

Though photographer Dorothea Lange couldn’t ask the woman her name, the woman told the photographer anyway. Because she did, that photo will forever immortalize Florence Owens Thompson and her two children.

Like the Mona Lisa, a person looking at the photo can imagine all kinds of thoughts going through the woman’s mind.

Over the years, I’ve imagined her story so many different ways.

Now, more than eighty years after that particular photo was taken perhaps the woman’s story—of sorts—can be told.

Author Marisa Silver has written a story she thinks might have led that woman to be sitting in a migrant camp the day photographer Dorothea Lange came by taking pictures as part of a government project.

Mary Coin by Marisa Silver  for 06-05Ms. Silver named the woman Mary Coin and that’s the title of her latest book published by Blue Rider Press.

It’s a fascinating story of what might have happened that day in 1936.

I believe author Marisa Silver wrote the book just for me, to answer the question I’ve always wondered about.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Jane Carver Judythe BlogJane Carver is a former schoolteacher

a new grandmother, a quilter, an artist, an editor, a dual personality author, writing adult fiction and young adult fiction, and a blogger extraordinaire

Learn more at Ms. Carver’s websites: Adult Fiction or Young Adult Fiction.

Or visit one of her many blogs:

http://janiecarver2011.wordpress.com

http://RomancesByJanie.wordpress.com

http://JaneGracePresents.wordpress.com

http://WritingImagination2013.wordpress.com

Her latest release as Jane Grace:

Janie IntenseIntense (Young Adult Fiction) Sensitive subject but more about the compassion and help received afterward that makes up the story. Nova Dean dreams of going to Nationals in Debate but to do that she must beat Adam Parks and his team. Their rival is intense but not as much as the help Adam gives Nova after she’s raped. Only with his help can she take one step at a time back to a life she can endure. Only with his help are the rapists caught.

Her latest adult fiction as Jane Carver:

ReturnWithHonorReturn with Honor

The death of Jud Longtree’s best friend gives the local police chief reason enough to suspect him of murder. With the help of Lottie Amberville, they use both logic and creativity to find someone who may have murdered more than once.

17 04, 2014

He Lives!

By |2014-04-17T06:00:43-05:00April 17th, 2014|Company's Coming, Guest blogger|0 Comments

Welcome with me today, guest blogger Jerry Hixson, a graduate student of Biblical Studies at Grace School of Theology.

He Lives!

????????????????????In the midst of the Easter Season – 2014, we would all due well to note a few things about Christianity.

First, Christianity is not actually a religion.

When we think of a religion, we normally think of man’s attempt to reach God.

Christianity, on the other hand, is God’s reaching down to humanity in the person of His only Son, Jesus Christ.

Second, Christians are the only group of people who worship someone who is alive. Other religions worship long dead gods.

Third, Christians are the only group of people who look forward to a bodily resurrection. Others share some hope of a hereafter, but all speak of a spiritual hereafter, not a bodily resurrection.

Alfred Ackley’s hymn, He Lives, clearly communicates the meaning of Easter, particularly the first verse and refrain.

In case you’re not familiar with the song written in 1932, here’s a video version.

22 03, 2013

Chickens, Chickens Everywhere!

By |2013-03-22T05:45:06-05:00March 22nd, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger, Miller Farm Friday|4 Comments

A Guest Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

I recently spent a week in South Texas with Go Mission leaving my beloved chickens in the capable hands of vet-in-training Rachel.

The first morning of the trip I was walking the fence line of the property where we were working and surprise–I ran across…chickens!

I guess my Chicken Wrangler reputation has spread further than I knew.

There were two pens, one with a hen and rooster and one with a hen and chicks.

I will say they were not as pretty as our chickens, but then I’m sure they never got the royal treatment we give our hens.

south tx chicks2south tx chickens

Each day after that, I made sure to check on the chickens – just like at home. The only thing was I could not feed them but I could talk to them.

Later in the week, I was walking through a neighborhood with a group of youth inviting children to our Bible Club. One man had chickens roaming around his yard.

I talked to him about them (in Spanish), but was unable to come up with a translation for “chicken wrangler.”  I didn’t get pictures of these birds as they spent most of their time under the brush out of the sun.

Getting away from the day-to-day chores of life is refreshing, and I loved working with Habitat and Bible clubs.

But, I must say, I was very glad to be able to get my “chicken fix” while far from our birds. It kept me from missing my chickens so much.

15 03, 2013

Chicken Math

By |2013-03-15T06:34:16-05:00March 15th, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger, Miller Farm Friday|1 Comment

A Guest Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

Last week, Whitey – the hen who had the hurt leg and we nursed back to health – was once again walking funny.

We knew it couldn’t be a result of roosters jumping on her because the roosters were all at freezer camp. Chicken doctor Rachel diagnosed her as egg bound.

Egg bound means there was an egg that for some reason was stuck. The remedy was to put the hen in warm water for 30 minutes every two hours until the egg is laid.

We figured the best place for a warm water bath was an ice chest.

Whitney

We let her soak in her “hot tub” for thirty minutes and then brought her inside to dry off.

When this didn’t seem to make much difference, Rachel discovered that Whitey did not have an egg, but a tumor, which would not come out regardless of how many times we let her soak.

I did wonder at one point as I watched her hang on to life, if there was a “chicken hospice” organization. I’m sure someone could start one, but not sure, if others would pay for their services.

The sad fact was our Whitney was destined to die. A very sad fact, but nonetheless a fact. We all shed a few tears when Whitey did die.

Rachel went to the feed store later that week and bought nine baby chicks.

new chicks

Whitey was, indeed, a very special chicken if it took nine chicks to replace her.

We also have 24 eggs in the incubator due to hatch next week, but Rachel went to the feed store again and came home with two more chicks.

(She did ask me first. I figured what’s two more in our ever-growing flock.)

So now, we have potentially thirty-five new birds after losing one.

Rachel calls it Chicken Math.

I find it at least as confusing as regular math.

8 03, 2013

Greener Grass

By |2013-03-08T07:34:26-06:00March 8th, 2013|Friday Free Day, Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger|6 Comments

A Guest Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

This morning, as I was filling the chicken waterer, I looked up and saw one of our black chickens in the neighbor’s yard.

hen over fence

I must confess I can’t blame her. The grass was definitely greener on the other side of the fence.

Unfortunately, her desire to be with her flock won over her desire for greener grass. She paced back and forth trying to figure out how to get back over the fence.

Since catching chickens is a frequent event at Miller Farm, my husband devised a “chicken getter” stick. It is a wire hanger with a hook at one end with which you can grab the chickens feet and lift them off the ground.

Chickens become quite calm when hanging upside down so you are then able to hold the chicken and take it wherever you need it to go.

If “chicken getting” were an Olympic event, our Rachel would be a gold medalist. The day before, she had grabbed three bantams from the yard to sell to another chicken lover.

I figured I could just reach over the fence with the “chicken grabber” and get the chicken back where she belonged. I wouldn’t have to walk all the way around and into the neighbor’s back yard.

I soon discovered I am not as adept at grabbing chickens as Rachel. I blame my inability to catch the hen on having to reach over the fence. After several attempts, I gave up and headed next door.

I may not be able to use a “chicken getter,” but my own two hands work quite well. I soon had an armful of chicken, which I promptly dumped back over the fence.

Everyone was where he or she belonged, and we all went on with our day.

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