Campfire Worship Ring Awaits You, Come.

We have our first fire ring! When I got home last night my brother-in-law, Mike, showed me a picture of an awesome fire ring. Thinking he was going to ask me if that was what I had in mind I asked, "Where is that located?" He said, "Right where you wanted it!" Cool, huh! Thanks, Mike.


'Come, Now is the time for Worship!' --- the campfire worship ring awaits you and your acoustic instruments and singing voices. Bring your camp chairs, bring your coolers, bring your flashlights (for trekking back up the hill at night), bring your Backwoods Cutter, along with your hotdogs and marshmellows!

Have you seen Maxwell?

LOST: MAXWELL -- LAST SEEN ON
225th Street, North of Tonganoxie

PLEASE HELP US FIND MAXWELL

It is hard to tell about animals. God gifted each of us with unique personalities and kitties are no exception. We thought if we just got Maxwell to the barn he would enjoy the refuge there. Little boy loves to play on the hay bales and visit with the other cats, not Maxwell. Scooby learned that if he doesn't run it is okay to kiss a dog on the mouth, not Maxwell. Maxwell's story is much different. Even though he had a pet dog at his old home, he freaked out when he met the dogs and they responded reactively making things worse. We did manage to get him to the barn and saw him a few days later under the hay bales. But no one has seen him for several days. There was a report of a cat that looked very similiar to Maxwell on 225th street but he ran away when called. If you have seen Maxwell, please let us know. We miss him!

Quest

Sundays at the ranch are designed to be laid back. Impromptu is the word of the day. Not like a Saturday where we have a list of tasks we have planned to try to get accomplished, Sundays are spontaneous. Lunch, after morning worship, leads us into the arms of our creator for whatever it is we need.

Today I had decided to call my horse up to the barn and doctor her wound. Reminded me of our Sunday teaching about Jesus healing on the Sabbath. I had to grin that I too would be helping heal on a Sunday, tending to the healing of the horse. Okay, it is a different magnitude but I still got to join in on God's healing process by applying the wound Kote. I called but Jazz didn't even look up from her munching of green grass to acknowledge my presence on the top of the ridge. However, my call did spark the interest of one of the white arabians and I assumed it was Chantol. She loves to visit with her humans and follows us around the pastures. About half way up the hill I realized it wasn't Chantol after all, it was Quest.

Quest came to the ranch a little over a year ago because he was pasture buddies with Mystic. He got on the trailer with her and so his owners gave him to us as a bonus. His riding history is unknown but he would not let us near him to put on a halter. I spent the better part of last summer playing the friendly game with him in a small square pen and getting him to accept the halter. He has been out to pasture with the herd since last fall and is not one of the horses that comes readily up to greet us when we walk among the herd.

Today he ran up, accepted a treat and when I opened the gate and walked away he ventured inside. With a little work and lots of friendly game that included treats, I was able to halter him. We just played on the lead line and the horse on his left side seemed very happy to be with me but the horse on the right side was more into rearing and calling out to the herd. Ever feel like you have two people inside. One is okay with your situation, the other side is over reacting to it. Horses don't communicate well between brain hemispheres but I have never seen anything like this extreme in Quest today. If I stood on his left, he was calm and okay with me but when I stood on the right he was reactive to the extreme. He kept trying to put me back on the left side and even reared up a few times.

It was still a treat to have such a God given opportunity to play with Quest. It got me really fired up about working the horses this year. Galahad and Zippi's first rides are planned for this summer. I look forward to seeing them all undersaddle this summer-- I guess we have our hands full-- Quest, Mystic, Apache, Galahad, Zippi, and Taffy. Each of them have their own story, their own personalities, their own challenges. I have often dreamed of riding on Quest-- isn't he beautiful? Just as the photo illustrates, he is a beautiful mover and as we build up his confidence this spring his Quest is just beginning.

While all this dreaming was happening at the barn the boys were out fishing. Rosco caught his fish again-- rumor has it he has made a deal with a couple fish that if they allow him and only him to catch them he'll throw them back. It must be Wilbur's family-- right Tiger?

What are your ranch stories? Let us know about your adventures at the ranch. Are you on a Quest?

Too muddy, Two pockets of sunshine

It was too muddy to take the paddle boat down to the pond today. At least it was too muddy to drive the truck in the boggy parts of the Back 40. Rosco says we didn't get the truck stuck because if the truck was stuck it would still be out there. "I didn't mean to farm the pasture, mom." Oh I am the mom.
It was too muddy to take the paddle boat down to the pond today. However, we took the paddle boat down to the pond today. Connor took her out on her maiden voyage of "Big Cat Lake." He put her to work chopping up algae so we can spray the pond when the water warms up to 60 degrees.
We woke up this morning and it was only 37 degrees. No one thought we would have the wonderful warm afternoon that we did. We were able to get the yard cleaned up and mowed and get the paddle boat down to "Big Cat Lake" without getting the truck stuck. Although the truck did stop moving forward and appeared to be moving in a downward direction, technically it was not stuck or it would still be out there sinking.
Our pocket of sunshine disappeared shortly after we soaked up a few sunrays at the pond but returned for an early evening of horsing around. Ali and Jazz agreed to let us catch them for their spring grooming. Our new friend, Dena, even got to show off her horseriding skills on Ali. Very impressive!
We squeezed all this into the last pocket of sunshine before it started raining as the last hot dog came off the grill for a late night meal.
We squeezed a lot into two pockets of sunshine today even though it was too muddy.

Spring is here!

Spring is here I am just sure of it! As slow as God seems to fully declare it, remembering the weekly ice and snow of winter is evidence enough that spring is really here. Although, walking out in the wind and chilling mist this morning may have made me question it. I may have been a little dramatic in declaring it was a blizzard and thankful there would be no need to bundle up and pull anyone out of a ditch -- again. How many times did we do that this winter?
Spring is here I am just sure of it! The trees have green leaves emerging from their winter slumber. The pastures are displaying a light green blanket pleasantly not quite long enough to mow. The crack of lightning and roar of thunder this week made me wonder if we had the right month turned over on the calendar. Wasn't it March that came in like a lion and out like a lamb? Is it really the end of April?
Whatever the date, we are looking forward to a pocket of sunshine at the ranch tomorrow and plan to bring up a couple more horses for Spring grooming. We'll be putting final plans on the locations of the campfire rings and hopefully, if it dries up enough to transport, we will get the paddle boat down to the pond.
It is true that "April showers bring May flowers," even if it rains ice pellets. This is what muck boots and stiff (aka favorite) socks are for!!

Dream it!

"Build it, they'll come," My sister said. "Dream it, they'll build it," God said.
God is doing great things at R4C Ranch and with only a couple of decent outdoor days so far I feel like we have accomplished so much. And so many people are calling and asking about the ranch, we are just so excited about getting to share this wonderful refuge with you. If we didn't get a chance to call you back come on out on Sunday for 'Open Ranch Day,' we would love to meet you and show you around.
We had an awesome day playing horsey Sunday. Wasn't it gorgeous weather? The horses were great and we spent the afternoon grooming a few of them and getting a few of them trimmed up and ready to go to work. I was so glad to get to stretch and take a short hike down to the retreat. We planned the locations of our fire rings (a small ring for boggy days and a large ring for the days when the bog dries up a little). We are going to put the campfire cafe in the small ring. Now that is what I am talking about! And if we get enough strong men out here one Sunday we might get to move a few logs to create our campfire worship ring. I am so excited about that. We found plenty of wood to burn so campfires shouldn't be scarce this summer.
I will put a list on the website but don't forget to bring your water bottles, deep woods off or backwoods cutter (for ticks-- sorry we are still in a fallen world), and camp chairs.
Keep checking back to the blog for more ranch stories. Check in with your comments and let us know about your adventures.
Thanks to everyone for helping this dream come true, to the kids for letting me drag them along on my wild adventures (more on that later), to Mike and Leland for shoring up those fences after the big storm and helping me round up the horses (more on that later, too), to Carol for dreaming with me, to Mom and Dad (who dream in green and yellow) for encouraging and supporting our dreams, and to our heavenly Father for His wisdom, mercy, and grace through Christ.

About Adults

A Connorism:
As I tucked my 10 year-old into bed last night, he asked me a question for which I gave him a thoughtful answer. He then announced, "You know, I have discovered there is more to adults than just being old. They are a fountain of knowledge. I guess they just soak that up along the way."

Lost Passion

After passionately getting into a mud fight with my oldest son at the gas station (I'll explain later), I realized something about the state of Christian evangelism in this country (from my humble observations). The story began when I met my son at the gas station to fill up my truck with gas. He had borrowed the truck and I specifically told him to keep it on the road. However, as I walked past the truck I noticed it was extremely dirty. It had mud covering the sides and windows and even some on the hood and roof. When I asked him about it, he said, "It rained and the dirt roads were muddy."
"But that is a lot of mud" I said then looked at the front and noticed strands of hay stuck in the mud and hanging from the bumper and mirrors. "Ummm... was there hay on the road."
His explanation seemed lame at the time and infuriated me. I let him know how I felt explaining my disappointment in a fit of passion that culminated in us throwing chunks of mud at each other.
The point of this story is not that I was right and he was wrong or even how I let this object be the source of a heated battle in front of his friends that may have jeapordized our relationship. Although I am saddened by both of our behavior. But what really amazed me is when I thought about the passion I put into that exchange in my desire for his respect, his honestly, and his obedience to such an extent that I have never gone to in the pursuit to save his soul.
As I thought about that, I thought about all the robust debates and arguments and passion in this country and realized I have never witnessed any such level of energy when it comes to Christians reaching out to the lost souls. I have heard many stories about how much peace one has about knowing they are saved and going to heaven but never any agony about how the lost are lost and going to hell. If we truly believe in our heavenly bliss, then do we not truly believe in the weeping and gnashing of teeth that the lost, some of our dearest loved ones included, will endure for eternity. Isn't that more important than a dirty truck and torn up hayfield?Yet, it grieves me that I have never got as passionate as that battle at the gas station in the pursuit to save my own son's soul.

Saving Maxwell

I learned something new about myself yesterday. I will sacrifice a foot but not a hand. I wonder why. Certainly, walking is better than handling things but under pressure I was willing to sacrifice the foot and not the hand. The decision came under great diress. We were introducing a new cat to the mix of too many farm animals that live on the property. On the way to the barn the dogs came up to introduce themselves and Maxwell, the cat, freaked out. Luckily, I was not the one holding him. After the cat handler was able to dig the cat out from underneath his skin, literally, Maxwell ran away from the barn and up to the house to hide in one of the window wells. While the original cat handler was in receiving first aid treatment, I proceeded to find Maxwell and see if I could persuade him to hide in the barn away from the dogs. However, the dogs figured out what I was up to and they obviously wanted to repay Maxwell's initial greeting of hisses and growls and scratches with equal impact of barks, growls, and fur-flying.
So back to the story of the foot instead of the hand enlightenment. During the attack of three dogs against one cat, I decided to go in and save Maxwell. In pulling the dogs off I refrained from intruding with any of my limbs. But as fur was flying, urgency was of upmost importance so I went into the middle of the pack with my foot. I attempted to push the dogs away from the cat without exposing too much leg. When that didn't work I stepped back and punted. Score! Dogs and fur flying, I covered Maxwell with a rubber tub for which he seemed grateful and would not come out of.
In the whole process, I discovered something about myself. I would sacrifice my foot but not my hands. Why is that? Do I prefer handling things, touching things, over walking? Have you ever played that game where you try to decided which of your five senses you would be willing to lose if you had to lose just one? Which limb would you be willing lose if you had to give one up?
Unfortunately, many of our troops that are returning home from battle with missing limbs or senses didn't get to choose. They didn't get to choose which limb or which sense or how many limbs or senses they would prefer to lose. All they knew is in the heat of the battle, they had to save Maxwell. They went for it without really thinking, some more willing than I, jumped in with their whole bodies giving their all. Some sacrificing much, some sacrificing all, and all sacrificing something. In the end, they all will learn something about themselves and much more: They will learn that they are braver than they thought they were, that their team is more important than any member acting alone, and that God is bigger than most people say He is.
Who is Maxwell anyway? What are you willing to sacrifice for the Maxwells in your life?