Different Woods

How can splitting wood teach us about life?

October 10, 2018

Different Woods

Have you ever split wood?  As a child, I watched my Daddy split wood for a fireplace when we stayed at a cabin in the Smoky Mountains.  We camped all the time, so being in a cabin was a little different for us – we were actually going to spend that Christmas in an A-frame cabin with a big fireplace!  I was young, but remember being so excited.  We were praying for snow!

I’d helped chop wood a few times before this, but it was never splitting big round logs, it was always just cutting small roots or scrap wood from fallen trees discovered in the backyard so the scrap bits would fit in our firepit.  I’d always used this tiny ax. (Daddy called it a hatchet, and although he said “the Indians in Davy Crocket used weapons exactly like this,” we were warned NEVER to play with the hatchet.  We made “hatchets” out of wood to run around like Indians instead.)

At the cabin, Daddy was using the BIG ax, it had about a three foot handle, maybe four feet, with a weighted gleaming head.  Daddy would raise that ax up over his head, swing hard, and with a crash it would come down.  Most of the time, his blows would chop the round wood into three or four hunks.  Sometimes, the ax went thud and stuck.  Daddy would step on the wood, wiggle the ax, and go again.  Sometimes, the ax would take three of four cuts to split the wood.

My sisters, brother, and I were watching, fascinated at our Daddy’s strength, from what Mom considered a “safe distance” – I’m pretty sure we were inside watching through the window, but can’t be sure.  What I do remember, is what he said to us later.  It might have been a day or so later, but I remember the wood-splitting was fresh in my mind and we were sitting around the fireplace when he started talking.

“Did you see how it’s easy to cut one type of wood but harder to cut another?” Daddy asked.

We all nodded, my brother pointed out some “really tough woods” (oak).

“But I was using the same ax and I’m the same person, so it was about the same effort for each one,” Daddy said, “it’s the same with parenting.  God gave us each of you and you are all different in your own special ways.”  (The way he smiled at us when he said that made us look at each other and giggle.)

“We are the same parents, trying to use the same methods, but since each of you are different types of wood…” Here I’m sure someone yipped, “I’m this one!” (oak, of course) Daddy smiled but continued, “so we have to find different methods of teaching each of you so that in the end, we can tell God we’ve done our best.”

As I look at this memory, I realize that Daddy was probably encouraging my mom and himself (as we would have been about 8, 6, 4, 2, and almost here) and they were “early” in their own parenting journey.

This illustration of parenting is also an illustration of everything in life.  I’ve remembered this “different wood” lesson and applied it to most things in my life.  Teaching – each child is unique so it is understandable that they would each learn differently.  Friendship – each friend is different and  therefore has different likes and dislikes.  Parenting – YES, huge here, true.

Last Sunday, this memory was brought to the forefront because our pastor used chopping wood for his example of how we apply different metrics to each part of our lives.  If we judge ourselves by same metrics or measures when we strike a softwood (it shattered into perfect sticks) as when we are striking slightly petrified oak (crud, the ax stuck fast), we would be discouraged.  Just as we use different strokes and techniques when chopping different woods, we use different metrics or measures in evaluating ourselves in various areas of life.

Each area of life is unique, as we grow and change throughout our lives.  The measures we used ten years ago shouldn’t be the same measures we use today (we measure babies’ length in inches but adult height in feet).  We also should use different measures for different areas of our life.  For example: We may find challenges in using patience while trusting God is easy.  Just because patience is more of a challenge, doesn’t mean we are failing at being patient.

Thank you, God, for giving us easy examples to help us not judge ourselves too harshly.  Let us see our life progress through Your eyes.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Yummy Harvest

Yummy harvest for us, fried treats for our doggies!

August 4, 2018

Yummy Harvest

Primrose (Christina’s 4-year-old Aussie mix) is waiting by the stove while we walk in and out.  Nothing is cooking there yet, but she knows this is harvest day, and she knows Rebeccah’s special treat is to fry up livers in butter.  Mom likes them, but it started as a treat for the doggies.

Funny how they know.   Sheba (our family’s 11-year-old Aussie mix) pretends she’s too old to move and half-wags her tail from her favorite spot in the house – curled up on top of the air vent in the den.  She strategically puts herself in the room where most people congregate, next to the shoe shelf so as they are leaving she can shoot them with sad eyes to see if she can guilt anyone into talking her outside.  Sheba perks up each time one of the kids comes in the back door, but since no one is carrying the big canning pot yet, she knows it’s still sleeping time.

In I come with the canning pot – Louis has decided to barbecue the chickens, but only three fit on the grill, so the fourth and all the trimmings are in that pot.  Usually, all the chickens are in the pot to be dissected, wrapped, and put away.   The gizzards and hearts are wrapped and frozen (I’ll fry them next time we have fried chicken).  Today’s harvest was tender young chickens and the preferred method of cooking is grilling or baking, whole.  So the fourth is wrapped and frozen.  This leaves the trimmed skins and livers.  The skins are saved for broth (I’ll add the bones and whatever trimmings from the birds being barbecued and simmer with some seasonings, this round should net about 2 to 3 quarts of “concentrated” broth.)

Rebeccah takes control of the livers.  Now Sheba and Prim are sitting by the stove, wagging their tails and almost begging.  They know that stuff is going in their bowl.  Livers don’t freeze well.  They are best fresh.  The only one in the household who likes liver is Mom (me), but I don’t like to eat a ton of them.  So I’ll take a few ounces and leave the rest for the pups.

Finally!  Rebeccah is done (it really only takes about three minutes, but looking at the dogs, you’d think they were waiting for years).  She rinses the pan in just enough water to make sure all the yummy goop is washed into the dog bowls and splits the contents of the pan between the two dogs.  They’ll get all the skins and other meat bits off the bones after I’ve boiled and strained the broth the next day too, but fried livers are their every-two-month treat, and they LOVE it.

Our theory is that Prim realizes the chickens are the liver treat source and therefore protects them jealously from any other animal – but she’s never hurt a chicken because she likes the finished product.

Yummy barbecue for us, yummy treat for our canine protectors.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~Nancy Tart

 

Watching Growth

From plants to chicks to rising bread: we all grow at a different rate!

June 18, 2018

Watching Growth

Have you ever watched bread dough rise?  It takes FOREVER!

Have you ever planted a seed or set out a new plant in your garden?  You sometimes don’t see the slow growth – sometimes you don’t notice until, “Oh, wow, there’s a red tomato on that bush!”  The plant was watered, de-bugged, and looked after for about 100 days but never really watched.

I planted my elephant ears in spring… now they are taller than me!

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Our baby chicks were cute little fluffs of fur, totally dependent on us to keep them safe, feed, and water them.  Now, they are nine weeks old.  Fully feathered, they look like miniature adults.  They don’t need us to pamper them and hide them from the rain or help regulate their body temperature; just some food, water, and a cat-proof shelter is fine.

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My oldest daughter is almost considered by the state to be old enough to command a 1-ton vehicle!  I still see her as the tiny bundled angel in the picture on my wall.  Of course, I literally see that she’s grown.  Sometimes she doesn’t see it.

Sometimes I don’t see my own growth.

God is always working on us.  Since none of us are dead, we are still improving.  Sometimes we get frustrated at ourselves because we don’t see any growth.  Maybe instead of imagining ourselves as rising bread, we should think of ourselves as growing plants.  Maybe not elephant ears – okay, sometimes we do grow quickly.  But with some things we are like the White Cedar (growing about 6 inches per year) or the Saguaro cactus (gets only one to two inches tall in the first 10 years!)

Sometimes slow growth is hard to see.

A wise man plants trees under whose shade he will never sit.

Wow, that thought says to me that those who choose to invest in long-term growth are wise.  So rather than expect instant results when I’m allowing God to work on my life, I understand that sometimes tiny steps in the right direction eventually lead to the finished product.  I will choose not to be frustrated with myself for not being a fast enough learner; I will choose to rest in His care and allow time for growth.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~Nancy Tart

 

 

New Paperback Book!

New Release! Paperback version of “The Princess and the Swans” is now available!

March 12, 2018

New Paperback Book!

Introducing the paperback version of The Princess and the Swans!

Christina Tart did the illustration for this book.

Princess Joy is the sunshine of her father’s kingdom.  One day an illness starts to break their happiness.  Later, all of the kingdom’s princes disappear!  Joy sets herself with the task of finding her dear brothers.  Joy must face hardship and pain but she will never give up.  Once she finds her brothers, she discovers they have been cursed.  Joy is determined to find a way to help them so they can all go home.

Follow Joy in her journey of love, patience, and endurance on her quest to save her family.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

 

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