Monthly Archives: April 2015

The Comforting Soul of the Barn Studio…

2013-01-03 21.17.25-1It pretty much started back when the late John W. Parsons said to me, “Do you have an out building you can practice in?”

J.W., we called him for short, was referring to me learning how to play the fiddle and that it would be best if I had somewhere to practice, lest I drive my wife crazy with the horrible sounds of a beginner fiddle player in the house.

“No,” I respectfully replied.

“Well, you better build one or you won’t be married long,” he said, and laughed before refocusing on where we had left off in our lesson that evening.

As a matter of fact, I had already begun adding onto the original section of barn I had built years before, unsure of how it might be used. I now had a reason to make part of the new addition somewhere I could get out of the weather and perhaps practice my newfound instrument. So with the purpose of creating a room to play music in, the studio in the barn began to take shape. I purchased ship-lapped poplar from Foster Rives, who had cut it from local lumber and planed it in his own sawmill just down the road from the farm. I installed it after putting up the walls, roof and outer shell of the barn, completing what would be a welcome retreat. Over time, the poplar becamed naturally aged to the golden hue it displays today. The wood stove came later, moved up from the old cabin, making the studio complete.

IMG_20140101_084557The cold rainy days when the farm work had to be put on hold, I would eagerly retreat to the studio. There I would build a fire in the woodstove and soon, the beautiful aromas of coffee brewing in the old percolator pot mixing with that of the hickory in the fire blending with the faint smells of the sweet hay in the hayloft just outside the studio door combined to make an ambiance that would start my creative juices flowing. There in the studio, I once more revisited old talents I had unintentionally left behind; starting to paint once again after years of leaving my paint brushes in the closet. It was here that I also rediscovered my writing, after years of leaving the pen lie dormant, with the occasional story that might rise to the surface, perculating like the coffee in the pot on top of the wood stove. And, of course, I would practice my fiddle, alone and away from ears that might be bothered by the slowly diminishing sour notes that had once been produced in abundance in my early days of learning.

Inside the upstairs room in the barn, strains of music wafted from the CD player. Songs were played according to the activity I was performing which accompanied my subconscious as I worked either on portraits, landscapes, stories for my book or just playing along on the fiddle. This was my home-away-from-home. Outside the windows, the world would present itself as the farm around me lived out its daily routine, regardless of the elements. As the rain pitter-pattered down, the cows might lie lazily underneath the cover of the trees that stood near the chicken coop. The chickens would cluck and crow, scratching the ground paying no mind to the nearby bovine neighbors as they walked about their runs, safe from the world and uncaring of the weather. Their only cares being that they might find a morsel of protein wiggling about in the dark earth.

Inside the comfort of the studio, I watched the seasons pass; winter, spring, summer and fall, safe from their temperature extremes, yet thankful that each were tranquil in their own right. Eventually, when my children were old enough, they would join me in the room up in the barn to paint, play music or just warm themselves by the woodstove if the opportunity presented itself. At times, I would cook meals in the cast iron skillet on the stove top, making the room come alive with smells of fried sausage or bacon. To me, there aren’t any restaurants to which I am aware that can compare to a home cooked meal on an old wood stove. As I would sit back in the easy chair and savor the delectable morsels of food, the air would still linger with the soothing smell of fresh cooked food, wood smoke and hot fresh coffee still bubbling up in the percolator.

Yes, the barn studio is someplace I will miss once we move. It is someplace that the kids will undoubtedly never forget, knowing that it too became a retreat to which they could go to reinvent themselves and become one with their inner person. We all need a place to go where life can be left at the door, where we may once again turn our thoughts inward and be at peace with our soul; giving ourselves to the gifts with which God has blessed us.

May we never forget our studio in the barn.

See how this studio can become a welcome retreat for you by clicking here.

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Flipping Your Town…in the name of Jesus!

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A gray, overcast, soggy morning greets us today; a writer’s comforting quilt of reflection washes over me.

Yesterday as I spoke to the congregation at Cumnock UMC, there was a sense of urgency to what I was saying, something that led me to want to push my fellow Christians farther than they’ve ever gone before, to boldly go forth and espouse the Word of God. Part of me knew, that as soon as many left that front door, stepping into the world beyond, that message would fade and when confronted with the “real” world, interactions with others would face the everyday scrutiny of social adaptation we all face, myself included. However, there were many reflections as I drove to Greensboro to take Mary out for dinner in order to celebrate her 14th birthday (yes, that is another blog, about where the time goes and how blessed we are by this beautiful, smart young woman we are watching grow before our eyes.).

Today when I checked the latest happenings with the world around us via the social media devices, I found a refreshing and boldly innovative initiative being undertaken by a church in Valdese, NC.; The River of Life. I saw where they have started a ministry to the local community called, “Flipping Valdese” #flippingValdese . It made me think back to the part of my sermon yesterday where I tried to convey how hard it is to go out into the world that we are most familiar and witness to others. I believe it is much easier to go to another country and spread much needed food and clothing to less fortunate populations and then witness to them, nearly a captive audience. But try to go out into a world that has their basic needs met, who choose to turn from the Word for one reason or another, and you will find the true test of your faith. Now, I am not condemning the work done by our many missionary teams and persons, these are all valuable and desperately needed, but few dare to go where the person we speak to is of our own kind, like minded in some aspects, to those who have all they need and turn from the Word of God because of their own worldly desires. For Jesus came into the world, and the world was made through him, but the world did not know Him.

We as Christians face many challenges in a world that grows closer to the darkness each day. To arm ourselves with the Word and to go out into the world is a bold move that many will shrink from the challenge. It takes someone with deep devotional fortitude to go out and witness to those who can just as easily tell you where to go, literally and figuratively. It is not going to get any easier with each day we are being invaded by those that want to take away our religious freedoms, our faith and our Lord. I applaud the River of Life Church and their pastoral staff led by Pastor Allen King for doing the unthinkable, the most avoidable and the most needed, witnessing to our fellow brethren.

Join with me as we lift their ministry up in prayer and think about starting your own “Flipping _____” where you fill in the blank with your town, city or community. We cannot sit back and wait. Darkness seeks to destroy us all and we can only sit back on our laurels so long before it’s too late.

Flip your community and see what miracles the Lord can do for you.

Please keep our friends, family and community in prayer as many are needing help, healing and condolences for loss.

Have a blessed week.

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Springtime on the Farm

 

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Springtime on the Farm: A view from the porch

The air is alive with the sounds of life, the smells of blossoms and the motion of the living earth all around us on our farm. The earth has exploded from its winter slumber and it seems as if every living being is fervently making up for lost time. The hum of activity is broken by the sound of rolling thunder in the distance as dark clouds loom over the horizon, just over the tree line of the barn, the direction of most summertime storms. Soon, lightning flashes and large drops of rain began to splash playfully into the Koi pond just off the front porch. Not long after the rumbling stops, the heavens open up and the sky and terrestrial world become one. Moisture rolls in waves as water wash layers of yellow pollen down tiny tributaries of happy colors, flowing, rollicking along as birds dance in their wake.

The cherry blossoms hang heavy with the thankful moisture, like gluttonous bulbs of lust, burgeoning from their drink, their weight pulling tiny limbs downward appearing as if they might break at any moment from their toil. In the distance, geese shout for joy at the top of their lungs from the farm ponds as their watery playground is enveloped in the storm. The water splashing about them as their wings and waves unite in the ballet of the tempest refrain.

Frogs begin to join in the chorus, their syncopated melody unites with the drops of water and my soul is refreshed through and through. There is such unity in this rhythm, such a multitude of complex interaction that moves as a melody, it can only come from God. Happenchance circumstance could not have created this beautiful orchestra that wafts about me, a full 360, all angles of dimensions become as one and we are made whole.

Our earthly existence is only a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things. What has been, shall be long after our life meets its end, but we can rest assured if we have prepared properly, our heavenly home will be all this and more, if only we ask, we shall receive Him. The momentary glimpses of these surreptitious moments are just a prelude to life eternal.

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us and we beheld His Glory, in the Glory as of the only begotten of the father, full of grace and truth.” – John 1:14

We can be saved by this Grace if in Him we believe. Amen.

To learn more about owning this beautiful homestead, click here.

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