A Mānoa Girl's Bloggie

Last Saturday my friend Julie and I went on our Annual Yamhill County Autumn Yarn and Fiber Pilgrimage. This has been a yearly tradition for several years now, and although two ladies in our group were missing, we had a good time.

Our first stop was in Dundee, only to find that one of the stores we always go to wasn’t there anymore. Auwe! But the persimmon tree that we usually get persimmons from (with permission) was still there, and loaded with fruit.

We had braved a couple of really heavy downpours on our way, but God blessed us with sunshine for picking the persimmons. The fruit was still kind of green, but with hearts hopeful for future ripening, we began picking it, knowing we wouldn’t be back till next year.

My sadness about my mom’s death has been compounded by several other losses lately, and though I was glad to be out and about, the gray skies and pouring rain matched the gray of my emotions. But as I picked another persimmon, I saw a sight that took my breath away. How like God to let me know in a way that only He could, that He understood my pain and wanted to bless me with something really special.

Psalm 4:8 has always had a special place in my heart, and has helped me get through some pretty rough times. And there it was, visually represented in the gift that He gave me. Holding the persimmon in my hand, my eyes filled with wonder, I saw three ladybugs, hibernating for the winter, snuggled down in the golden fruit.

I just stood there with tears in my eyes, thanking God for letting me know once again that my pain is important to Him. And just like these sleeping ladybugs, I can rest in His care, knowing that I too, dwell in safety during this winter season of my life.

I have loved animals all my life. Our menagerie has included dogs, cats, parakeets, cockatiels, doves and fish. When we moved to our present place that had some acreage, was thrilled that we’d be able to have real livestock. We started out with sheep, added some pygmy goats, and even a cow at one point. The cow moo’ved on, but the sheep and goats have stayed. We boarded a couple of horses, which I loved having around. We purchased Maremma Livestock Guardian Dogs to protect our livestock from coyotes who prowl the area.

One day at Oregon Flock and Fiber Festival , the very first one, as a matter of fact, I fell in love with a llama from Rain Dance Ranch. I’d had no intention of getting a llama, but there was Rayado, with fabulous “banana ears” and a face we simply couldn’t resist. We bought him that same day.

There’s nothing like a two-year old heifer running down a steep hill toward you with no guarantee that she’s going to stop in time, so we traded the cow for another llama whom we named Como Se. Heh heh.

There is nothing to compare with soft llama llips gobbling up wet cob (special grain) in my hand. Their mouths are so small compared to horses’ mouths; it’s a totally different feeling. I love my llama boys. I’m so grateful to God for allowing His creations to be part of my life!

Rayado in front, and yes, his tooth is supposed to be like that; he doesn’t need braces! Como Se behind him, and in the background are the pgymy goats and Thunder the horse.

This past Spring we were surprised by snow in March, which is very unusual for us here in this part of Oregon. I took this photo from our lanai just as the sun was setting, the raindrops on the bare branches looking like sparkling diamonds. I just stood in awe at the majesty of the sight, thanking God for allowing me to see such a beautiful part of His creation.

God really has a way of surprising me, inserting the miraculous into my days, even in the midst of winter.

Mahalo, ke Akua.

It happens every year. Along one of the main roads that I travel to town there is a storm drain at the bottom of a hill. During most of the year you’d never even know it was there. But when the rains begin each fall, wonderful things begin to happen to that nondescript circle in the middle of the road. I can’t help but wonder if anyone but me even notices it when to me it speaks volumes.

I think of all the dry spells in my life; I’m in one now. The days are long and exhausting, and sometimes I wonder how I will make it through to the next one. But everytime I pass this place in the road, my hope is renewed, and God reminds me that He will make streams in the desert places of my life, that He will give me beauty for ashes, that there is no place so dry He can’t reach it, and that no matter how awful I feel, He is there to satisfy my thirsty soul.