Hart Communications

Author: Melissa

  • Harvest Season Rolls On

    It’s an October morning and harvest continues to roll on
    throughout the country.  I’ve seen
    reports of happy farmers finishing beans and moving on to corn. I’ve seen
    reports of neighboring farmers harvesting 450 acres of corn for their
    cancer-stricken neighboring farmer and last night lying in bed, I received a
    text from my son who was still in the field harvesting beans well after dark.

    It’s that time of year when passion and tenacity are at
    their highest and work ethics are driving men and women to stay in the field
    until the job is done.  Combines hardly
    get a chance to cool down, grain trucks comb the roads and full fields begin to
    take on their flat, brown wardrobe of winter.

    It’s time to fill up the bins, to convert feed to food and
    feed the world.  Farmers will trade in
    their sit down dinners at noon with family for solo sandwiches on the tailgate.
    They will swap time spent in the bleachers for time in the tractor cab. They
    will stay up late, rise up early, tread through the day surviving the lulls on
    cokes and coffee. Repairs will plague them, weather will haunt them and grain
    prices will lure them.

    When the job is done, satisfaction will reign and families
    will reunite around the table with talk about plans for next spring. Equipment
    will be inspected, purchases will be pondered and spousal dust-ups are
    inevitable.

    It’s harvest season. Be safe. Hug one another. Bless each
    other with a kind word. Never leave without an “I love You” lingering in the
    air, because you just never know…..

  • Going to War…

    Enjoying a morning of freedom from having to go anywhere or pack to go anywhere, I sat down to hammer out some more work for a project that was taking longer than I ever thought it would.

    Email notifications started going off on my phone, this isn’t unusual but when I looked to see who they were from, my heart began to race and that old familiar friend began to creep into my mind.

    Fear.

    Fear likes me. He likes to control me because I’ve been easy to control. When he enters,  I bow down and serve him whatever he wants.  Condemning thoughts or destructive self talk, whatever fear wants, I hand control over to him.  He can have my self confidence, my thought life, my intelligence, my responses, my future, he gets it all, I give it all up to him.

    But today was different. Today I went to war with fear. Instead of trying to brush past fear and pretend he wasn’t the elephant in the room, I stood up to him. Today, I took my Bible, flipped it open and began to read Hebrews 4:16 out loud.  And I prayed. 

    My next go-to passage is in Daniel and like an old friend who knew just what to say, my Bible flopped open to Daniel 9:17 where I began to read Daniel’s prayer out loud. This is a powerful passage in Daniel where he prays for God to hear him, answer him and to act! Strength and hope jumped off the pages when I read this passage. Daniel says, “We do not make requests of you because we are righteous but because of your great mercy.” And that is exactly how I feel. I needed God’s mercy and strength.  I needed him to take the fear and replace it with His perfect love.  I needed a courage transplant and that’s exactly what He gave me as tears began to fall onto the pages of His word.

    How did Daniel know I would need these words today?  How did God know to tell Daniel to write this passage so that thousands of years later, on August, 28th, 2015, Melissa would need to read it and transform her thinking? How?

    I don’t know how God orchestrates all of the answers to our prayers, but I do know that He is my rock, my strong tower and when I run to Him, he opens his arms wide to take me in, squeeze me tight, love me wholly, only to release me, to spread his goodness and faithfulness here on this page. 

    Don’t let fear control you, grab God’s word and go to war. You will be the winner.  Every. Single. Time.

  • Fast cars and gritty teeth

    When you were younger did you ever say, “I will never…….”   Fill in the blank—drive a minivan, let my
    children have a motorcycle, allow my kids to play video games, sit and watch
    dirt track racing….

    Last weekend I found myself doing something I thought I
    would never do.  Racing of any kind was
    not on the radar in my family. My parents never took us to any kind of car
    race, motorcycle racing, nothing of the sort. 
    The closest we ever got to racing was the Standardbred racing at the
    county fair.

    So when my husband said, “Hey, you wanna go to Butler?” I
    said, “uhm….sure.”

    Growing up in the south, dirt track racing was his the thing
    to do on Saturday night.  He watched it
    on TV, he went to the track, he loved every minute of it.  I have never known this side of my spouse, we
    never had the time or the energy to take four kids to the dirt track on a
    Saturday night so this part of his personality has been muted….until now.

    Sitting in the dirt covered stands we watched as all kinds,
    colors and shapes of cars sped around the oval. As they roared by and skidded
    around the corner I found myself enjoying  this strange spectacle. I picked out my
    favorites and cheered them on as they went by. 
    When all the cars would get in formation before their race and the
    announcer suggested everyone stand and wave to the drivers as they went by,
    yes…I was standing and waving with the rest of the crowd.

    We sat there until midnight rubbing the dust out of our
    eyes, clearing the grit from our mouths and listening to the announcer say
    things like, “the track needs more gription.” 
    Is that even a word?

    A new world has been revealed to me now; the world of fast
    cars, dirty hair and the necessity of earplugs. 

    I wonder which  ‘I
    will never…’ statement will happen next?

     

                                                                                                                                                                                                                              
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

  • Family Photo Day…gone wrong.

    It’s a cold and windy day on the Knolltop. The cows have had their lunch and now it’s time to head into town for a few supplies.

    I miss writing on this blog. It’s a freeing place to be for me because no one pays me for it and I can write whatever I want and if you don’t like it, you can click exit.  But I hope you don’t, it’s not my desire to offend anyone.

    It’s also been a great timeline for our family. A place where I have documented so much of our lives for a few short years and I believe that is such a valuable piece of our history. While none of my children will read this today my hope is that when they are 50 or 60 they will come back and look it over and savor the memories from their childhood on the Knolltop.

    One thing…among many things….that I did not do when our children were young was the annual family photo.  I’ve seen countless other families who have had breathtaking photos of their families and yet we have nothing but church directory photos.  So while JW was home for Christmas, I harassed my family into posing for a photo.  Here’s how it all turned out.

     
     
    As you can see there wasn’t a really good photo in the bunch.  I would try to direct and then they would overdo everything I said.  Someone thought Bobby was drunk., No,  he wasn’t drunk, that’s just what he looked like that day! I’ll try again the next time JW is home from the Air Force.  But until then, this is what we have to add to our family scrapbook. 

  • A Night that Would Change the World

    There’s nothing like the smell of shavings when you walk
    into a barn at a livestock show. In one breathe sweet memories sweep across
    your mind like a movie on the big screen and you instantly feel at home.

    I had that sensation as I walked into Freedom Hall at the
    recent North American International Livestock Exposition in Louisville,
    Kentucky. It was late one night and I had posted the last picture of the day’s
    show, slung my camera over my shoulder and  spent a little time just walking the aisles of
    cattle.  Several scenes played across the
    screen in front of me as I strolled around clipping chutes, feed pans and straw
    packs.  On my left, two older men were
    swapping stories of days gone by while across the aisle a young fitter covered
    in cow hair and adhesive was winding up his cords and oiling his clipper
    blades.

    I glanced straight ahead into the milking parlor and saw a
    man milking a cow and chatting with his buddy who sat on a bucket nearby. I
    turned down another aisle and to my right was a dad sitting with his daughter
    dressed in her pajamas, sharing some fruit snacks before she crawled into the
    tent for bed and up ahead were two teenage boys staring at their phones passing
    the night hours away as they watched the cows.

    On a Saturday night in the center of a busy city, people
    were prepping cows for the last big show of the year.  They would show, a few would win, they would
    celebrate and go back to the farm. 

    Over 2000 years ago on the outskirts of a busy city in a
    smelly stable, two people were also spending the evening with cattle but this
    time it was without clippers, without shavings and no blue ribbons. Instead
    they were prepping to deliver a Savior. Scared, cold and questioning, they were
    in for the night of their lives.  A night
    that would change the world. A night when the lost would soon be found, the
    blind would soon see and  the prisoners
    would be set free.

    A child was born for you and for me. Open your eyes, find
    Him and be free. Merry Christmas.

  • Debriefing Life


    Growing up 19 months apart, they were close.  As toddlers many thought they were twins as
    their mom dressed them in similar outfits. 
    They were inseparable.  Whatever
    the oldest one did, the second one copied. When the older brother stepped on a
    stone, the younger one stepped on the same stone.  When the older brother played baseball, the
    younger one found a mitt and played along. When the older one got a tractor,
    the younger one made his purchase. When the older one went to college, the
    younger one went to college. 
    While their personalities were polar opposites, they got
    along like two peas on a pod. After a long, busy day having gone their separate
    ways, they would convene in the kitchen late at night and talk in hushed voices
    about their day as if debriefing from a top secret mission. 
    The older brother was a wanderer wanting to see the world,
    the younger one was content staying within a 20 mile radius of home. The older
    brother traveled the country and even went overseas while the younger one was
    happy to stay home to work his job and help on the farm. One was a free spirit
    taking risks out in the big world and the other was as steady as a
    rock—reliable, dependable and predictable.
    When the older one got into trouble, he called the younger
    one for help. Whether he was stuck in snow, had a flat tire or needed a lift
    from the airport, the younger brother bailed the older brother out.
    Nearly a year ago, the younger one drove his older brother
    to the recruiter’s office and watched him leave to serve his country. With a
    pat on the back and a handshake they parted ways.  A few letters back and forth and some texting
    kept them in contact while they were separated.  
    A month ago, the older brother called on the younger brother
    for a ride….again.  Only this time it was
    to pick him up from the airport to take him home and surprise their parents.
    Keeping the secret until the day arrived, the younger brother walked in the
    house during breakfast and made idle chit chat with the family about needing to
    use the air compressor. A few seconds later, the older son dressed in his
    fatigues walked in the door and the room erupted with screaming, hugging and
    crying.
    After surprising everyone in the family and enjoying lunch
    with his parents the older brother looked for his younger brother and he found
    him a mile from home, working his job: driving the grain cart for corn harvest.
    The older brother climbed up into the cab of the John Deere and together once
    again, one dressed in grease stained jeans and the other in fatigues, they
    spent the afternoon debriefing from their top secret mission called life.

  • How much noise do you make?

    At a spring band concert at our small high school gymnasium I held my camera trying to video the last concert of my daughter’s high school career.  Probably her final concert ever. It was her senior night and I wanted to capture the entire event.
    Jake and Sarah
     

    I sat in the bleachers with my parents as we listened and I try to hold the camera steady. I couldn’t help but be distracted by the children in front of us. They were about 9 or 10 years old and were very active and very loud. They crawled under the chairs, over the chairs, pulled each other’s hair, cried to their parents and as their parents made a poor attempt at keeping them settled, these three kids paid no attention, they just kept squirming and giggling. 

    I was disgusted at the parents lack of respect to not only the students performing but also for the parents surrounding them.  If they had any clue at all they would keep their children quiet or take them out.  Why couldn’t they keep their children in line? Why didn’t they do something. The louder they got the more irritated I became.  For the sake of all of us, take your children by the hand and lead them out of the gym and discipline them!

    And then I felt a nudge from my Daddy.

    No, not the dad that was sitting next to me, my heavenly Dad. He unveiled my eyes to see just exactly what I do to Him on a daily basis.  I run around. I crawl under convictions. I make noise so I don’t have to pay attention to Him. I don’t focus on to the spectacular concert in front of me, but I only pay attention to my own thoughts that I want to entertain. I feel him try to guide me but some days I rip my hand from His and do my own rebellious things.

    Why doesn’t He do something? Why doesn’t He keep me in line? Why doesn’t He take my hand and lead me out to discipline me?

    Because He knows me. He knows my bent, He knows how I learn best and He loves me enough to let me fail, fall and then pick me up in His arms and love me back to life again. It’s H
    is love that lets me fall and His grace that stoops down to sweep up my brokenness. When He shows up to shower His grace and mercy on me He also knows everyone around me will also see it.

    Who wouldn’t want to love this God? Who wouldn’t want to please this Dad? Who wouldn’t want to obey Him? It’s His love that found me and His grace that keeps me coming back. But it’s His blood on the cross that keeps my name in His Book of Life.

  • In the Midst of an Imperfect Christmas

    Nothing means holiday time like cold temps and a white
    blanket of snow.

    Thanksgiving is over, the turkey is gone and now we are
    thrust full throttle into the Christmas season. There are no excuses now, the
    decorations have to go up, the gifts have to be purchased and an entire host of
    traditional foods are waiting to be made and eaten. Are you as overwhelmed as I
    am at the thought of Christmas being just a couple weeks away?

    It could be because I usually wait until the week of
    Christmas to start shopping while by December 5th I’ve made three
    batches of fudge and eaten two of them. Can you say sugar high? Good nutrition gets
    blown out the window in December while mood swings, cortisol production and
    weigh gain wash over me like a tidal wave ending up five pounds heavier by
    January 1st.

    In addition to all the traditions that must be kept in order
    for Christmas to arrive, we still have to keep all the necessary plates
    spinning like laundry, writing, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, bill paying
    and that highly demanding job  of dairy
    farming.

    While we run here and there to make the holidays happen, we
    are constantly bombarded with the delusional picture of what Christmas should
    be in our homes. It begins in November and seems unending with the picture
    perfect commercials, Hallmark movies with happy romantic endings and the
    holiday-how-tos helping you prepare for holiday parties, wrapping the perfect
    gift, decorating the perfect tree and getting your Christmas cards in the mail
    by black Friday.

    The perfect Christmas has come and gone. It happened over
    2000 years ago when a world changing baby was born without strings of lights, a
    warm fire or plates of fudge carefully placed on Christmas china.  One bright star set the world on fire to find
    this perfect baby, born to imperfect parents.

    What appeared as an illegitimate crisis pregnancy ended up being
    our perfect Savior.  A Savior born
    without sin into a sinful world that did not deserve Him.

    This year, when we pull away the pretty wrappings and soaring
    expectations of perfection in the middle of our over indulgent celebrations, I
    hope we find the perfect Savior born to love us in the middle of our imperfect
    world.

    He loves us.

    He’s pursuing us.

    Turn around and find Him….your Savior born a babe… in a cow
    barn.

    He’s waiting.

  • Are you insane?

    They say that doing the same thing over and over again and
    expecting different results is the definition of insanity. That could be true,
    of course I could define insanity in several ways….like four kids in six years
    or thinking a batch of cookies could last more than 2 hours or trying to be a
    PC mom by not letting my kids play with guns when God gave them a built in gun
    in their thumb and index finger.

    Insane or not, there are some days when we struggle with
    doing the same wrong thing over and over and over again. Are you with me? Do
    you hang out in this camp? We try to change and we do for a while but then we
    find ourselves back at the camp fire of self-condemnation saying, “Why did I do
    that again? I thought I was passed this.”

    Overspending, lying, laziness, gluttony, over indulgence,
    immorality, addiction of all kinds, you name it, we can struggle with it. So
    what’s the answer?

    If I knew that, I could put on seminars and get paid the big
    bucks for solving all our problems! But I do have a couple of words of
    encouragement.

    Doing one thing intentionally every day to try to break the
    cycle of your wrong choices can really add up. No one can change overnight but
    little by little we can change using intentionality every day. Just one thing.

    And please, if you get nothing else out of this remember
    that you aren’t the failure you may see in the mirror. Self-condemnation can
    only drive you into a wall of going nowhere. It stops you from getting better
    and keeps you slogging through the muck and mire of hopelessness and
    yes…insanity!

    You can only face today, tomorrow won’t come today. Today
    can be one intentional choice different than yesterday. Make one good choice
    today and enjoy a well-deserved feeling of satisfaction!

  • Another Senior? NO!!!!!

    It’s been far too long since I have posted here. Don’t ask me why, I have no idea. But we need to change that.

    This morning at breakfast we were talking about graduation and I realized in just a few short days I will have a senior on my hands again and suddenly I felt exhausted. I need at least two or three years in between senior pictures, senior teas, senior spotlights, graduations, open houses and that oh so popular but always annoying saying, “I don’t have to do that….I’m a senior.”

    Sarah will be graduating in a year. It seems like forever away, but it’s not. I swear I will blink my eyes and we will be sorting through pictures to put on a collage board, making albums of certificates and wondering if we should invite this person or that family. No….I don’t wanna go through this yet! Can I protest now?

    Worse yet are the decisions she will make for college. She wants to go on college visits, she wants to make an informed selection, she is particular about where she is going. While I badgered my two older boys into signing up for classes at the local community college and urged them to study, I feel like I will be pulling back the reins saying “Whoa Sarah….not so fast…I’m not ready for you to be gone yet!”

    This is the little girl I prayed over as soon as she was born. This is the little girl who broke the string of boy grandchildren and ended up as the ONLY girl in the family on both sides….and still is… even with great grandchildren! This is the little one I dressed up in the frilliest pink dresses and paraded  around to every mother and daughter banquet there was to attend.  This is the same young lady who is willing to step up and can be entrusted to take care of the farm while her father and I attend sporting events. This is the strong-willed young lady who has turned into a leader and will not settle for second best.

    Is it any wonder I’m not ready to give her up to the world? Oh yes, there have been days when she has tested my will and has made me cringe at my own humanity, but there are other days when I wonder why God would ever entrust me with such a beautiful young lady. And where did she get her organizational skills and her drive and determination to be early to everything???? Ya, that was God too.

    It’s time to muster up my energy and courage to take on another senior year. Like a freight train….it’s coming down the track and I can either stand by and watch it, get run over or hop on and enjoy the ride.