A Mānoa Girl's Bloggie

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.

This week’s WFW takes a more somber theme than I’ve done before. Nolemana and I own a real estate appraisal business, and in addition to appraising homes in our area, we also do foreclosure reviews. As a result, we get to see the insides of houses from all over the country that are in foreclosure, which is a sad thing in itself. Some of the homes are in pristine condition, while others have been completely trashed by angry former owners.

I love seeing all these houses because in all likelihood Nolemana and I won’t be going to all the cities in which these properties are located. So I get to see what other parts of the country are like, thanks to the appraisals we are reviewing as well as GoogleMaps, especially when there is a street view. I love the street views; sometimes I just use my arrow keys and travel around a city just to see what it’s like. I’ve “been in” the Las Vegas desert as well as the lush Tennessee hills.

This week, however, what I saw in the appraiser’s interior photos made me sad. Someone had obviously punched a hole in the wall, and someone else, I assume, had written on the wall. I will have no way of ever knowing who made the hole or who wrote on the wall. Was the person who penned the psalms there afraid? Was s/he scared of whoever punched the hole?

The juxaposition of the punched hole in the wall and the psalms written there made me realize once again that truly He is our very present help in time of trouble. Perhaps the writer was affirming that. Perhaps s/he was crying out for help. I add both people represented by that wall to my prayers. I pray that the one who punched the hole in the wall will find peace that only God can give, and that the writer will experience anew what s/he wrote on that wall in the now-empty house.