Poetry and Roast Potatoes

The morning was cold, and I was glad for that. The heat wave had ended last Thursday, taking with it sleepless nights, scrambled brains and groggy mornings. The nights were clear now, and cool enough to wear coveralls. The stars shone above me, a million strange lights staring back at me as I stumbled out the door and tried to find my gumboots. All was quiet. Even the magpies had stopped their hideous screeching. The dog stirred from her chair on the porch and trailed behind me. I asked Caroline the Canadian how she slept. She mumbled something about ice hockey. I smiled against the dark.

You are mine and I am Yours

Until time is no more

And the stars have burnt out,

Their glory faded.

But Your glory will go on unto eternity,

Oh God of my fathers

Oh God, the Just and Mighty One,

King forever.

The barn was dark when we arrived at the dairy. I hit my head on the pink hose for the second time in a week and mumbled a few unintelligible curses under my breath. Milking cows was unglamorous but somehow gratifying. I thought I'd hate it after a while, but I had grown to love it somehow. Maybe I'm going crazy. I sang a Jenn Johnson song. The flies were still stuck to the cold metal walls. At least they're not in swarms today. The cups fell off once in a while, not as much as the afternoon but enough to make you contemplate throwing a small tantrum. Number 2568 had mastitis in her front-left quarter. Nasty stuff, mastitis. The hum of the machine made one cow blur into another. I finished sweeping the yard when the sun finally peeked over the horizon in all her glory, turning the very air around me into an other-worldly pink hue. I drove the gross mastitis milk down and fed it to the pigs. Waste not, want not. The dog ran off and came back covered in God-knows-what. I exiled her to the back of the Ute.

I remember

When You first came to me,

Eyes blazing

A love so strong

It swallowed me up and

Spit my old self out.

And even now,

The very thought of You

Engulfs my heart with eternity

And I am undone.

I put the kettle on to boil, trying not to make my usual ruckus and wake the whole house. Breakfast was instant coffee and muesli (a strange form of granola). I cracked open my beloved George MacDonald book.

To the heart of God, the one and only goal of the human race-- the refuge and home off all and each, he must set out and go, or the last glimmer of humanity will die from him. Whoever will love must cease to be a slave and become a child of God.

I stared out the window. The sky was blue now through the gum trees. The dog ran by the window with my towel she had stolen off the clothesline. Damn dog. The goats, Sally and Alphy, ambled by the window. A milk truck drove by. My mind drifted.

How much nearer my soul cannot thy hands come! Yea, with a comfort, Father, that I have never yet even imagined, for how shall my imagination overtake Thy swift heart? I care not for the pain, so long as my Spirit is strong. If Your love, which is better than life, will receive my spirit, then surely Thy tenderness will make it great.

The dust got everywhere. In your eyes, in your clothes, in your boots. I looked in the mirror of the tractor and noticed a few more lines on my face from squinting in the sun. For God's sake, I'm only twenty. The cows stampeded up to the gate as I drove through with the silage feeder. The tractor had no AC but I didn't dare open the window for fear of the flies. How could I forget my water bottle on a day like this? Watching the cows run up to me, ears flapping, I couldn't help but laugh. Mommy! Mommy! I had always liked cows, but who would've guessed I'd end up taking care of 700 of the buggers?

You are to me

A river in the desert

A fountain in desolation

A spring for the poor and thirsty

And You say You'll pour water

On they who are thirsty,

And flood the dry ground 

With enough glory

For all nations

And I am so thirsty

For something more than water.

Was it bad that I liked this life? This beautifully simple, lowly, humble life? My mind was free to wander the day away in dreams and poetry, my heart uncomplicated by the messes of this world. I suddenly wondered if I should be doing something more... important. Something like feeding orphans in Mozambique or living with the homeless. Something commissioned to me by the voice of The Lord Himself, loud and strong. I imagined myself as a nomad, wandering the wilds of the world, preaching the gospel with words of power and people being drawn inexplicably to the Spirit of God in me by the droves. So how did I get here again?

But I wouldn't trade anything for being here in the middle of nowhere. I remember days of old with fondness, and I have dreams in my mind's eye I yearn to see, but these days, I am more alive than I've ever been. He is with me, strong and real. His Presence before my face, His tug at my heart when I go to sleep at night, His words that overflow from me unwittingly. I can hear Him again.

From age to age, I have loved thee.

I, who took a million years to create a human soul,

I have loved thee.

And I knew in my heart of hearts that he had sent me here. I had asked Him for rest, and He had given me a rest that would sustain to the end. I had asked Him for love enough for the world, and He had given me enough love for this moment, more love than I needed, enough to love the person in front of me. I had asked Him to guide me, and he had led me here, to the most unlikely of places, to bring His Kingdom to a place devoid of hope.

Everyone went to bed after we watched TV and ate roast potatoes for a while in the sitting room. There's usually not much else to do after work. Sometimes we talk about Jesus. Sometimes we talk about sex. Sometimes we eat grilled cheese, sometimes I make banana pancakes enough for all of us. Sometimes we drive half an hour on a perfectly straight road to buy ice cream at Maccas. Sometimes we go to the beach (don't let the name fool you, it's only a river). We are just one big family here, us girls on Katunga-Picola Road. I never thought I'd have sisters that say the f-word so much. I loved them. I did. Not because they were lovable all the time, but because they were human. They were hungry. They were thirsty. And though they didn't know it, they were poor.

And after everyone else went to bed, He told me to pick up my pen and write.

So I did. It had become a place of rest for me, a place where all thoughts could become known. It helped me remember His promises. It helped me escape the voice in my head telling me I would never be enough. And sometimes, it just helped pass the time when the flies were too bad to go outside. He whispered sweet things into my ear when all was quiet but the wind. All the worries of my past life, they faded in the quiet, in the beige stillness, the rosy glow. I loved Him more than silver or gold could ever satisfy. I loved Him forever.

The sun is but a reflection on the clouds

And the crickets begin to sing in harmony

To You, oh Great and Mighty King.

How You love Your children! 

How You see our longings,

Yearn to bear every heartache,

Every burden.

In my waking and my lying down,

You are my Great Love.

I am little,

But I am Yours.