Scaife Family Values: Work

work/wərk/

Verb: Be engaged in physical or mental activity in order to achieve a purpose or result, esp. in one's job; do work.

Noun: Activity involving mental or physical effort done in order to achieve a purpose or result.

   We are made for it; work. Even before sin entered the world man was given work. All of us work at something; a job, keeping home, growing things, making things...our education. Work needs action to be executed correctly; it needs initiative and dedication. No one learned to spell words or form sentences without initiative and dedication; it took work.
   As parents, a desire of our heart was to train up our family with a sense of work; a good work ethic. My babies were nearby me as I went about my work; dishes and laundry were a common sight to them. Growing lent them desire to 'help' and they did; passing the shirt to be folded, "rinsing" dishes as they were washed, picking up a toy to put in the basket. Work came natural; it was just part of a day.
   Our children grew older and their work expanded: setting the table, sorting laundry, wipe the counter, put away their things. House work (chores) were daily and routine. If someone became ill, or I was tied up with a need, the older ones lent a hand and shared in things. Cooking peanut butter sandwiches for an evening meal is fine if made by a young child while mommy is cleaning up after a sick sibling. Being faithful in the small areas of life built trust to be given bigger things.
   Transitioning from child to youth has brought its challenges along with greater responsibilities. Older children took on farm chores, raised animals for production and show, became 'mother's helpers' to families from our church. Our youth eagerly volunteer, care for a family member, cook or grocery shop, baby sit...all bigger steps from simple home chores.
   With a work ethic developing it will also meet challenges. Sometimes we don't 'feel like it' or we have been gone from home and upon returning just don't 'have the energy'. This doesn't negate the responsibility so a solution must be found. You could ask someone else to do it, neglect it all together, see if someone is willing to assist if the job is time consuming, or just get it done.
   I remind my teens that asking for a stand if for your chores should be a limited thing and you should be willing to repay the favor. If you neglect it all together, your trustworthiness is put on the line and sooner or later consequences will follow. Working together does get the job done faster, most of the time, but again, be sensitive to the fact that person has work of their own to do and may be just as tired. Generally, the best bet is just get it done and go from there.
   It isn't always that easy. Currently we have teens in college and working part time outside the home; schedules collide with daily chores...getting things done is getting harder to do. Still, there must be a sense of work; after all, we adults still have to get it done. What is the key to making things work?
   I am no authority, but I am learning. First step is communication. We keep a family calendar in the kitchen and ask each family member to mark their schedules and keep it up to date. From here, chores are determined by who is home at the time a chores needs done. Second step is consideration. If you can lend a hand, lend it; be considerate of others' feelings and needs.
   With our teens' ages more and more is falling on the shoulders of mom and dad; it's normal, I know. So when they are home it is a blessing to see hands join together to fill water troughs or cook a meal, after all, many hands make light work. So whether the job is just unpleasant, untimely, or one that just has to be done, whether it's a labor of love, a pleasant task, one that is done in compassion for another...it's still work, and being ordained by our Lord, it is a Scaife family value.
  

Grazing & Dazing

 

With fires looming in the distance, their smoke filling the air around us, our hearts tend toward despair. There have been a few dangerously near our own home; only by the grace of God were they controlled and extinguished before damages occurred. 

 

In times like these I need a mental 'time out'; a step back to take a look at the big picture: what really matters here? The farm-kids and I did just that. Gathering our little herd, we set out to the unfenced pasture area for some grazing and dazing; a time to focus and reflect.

 

Sitting there in the cool shade of a tree cluster, the goats roamed here and there around us seeking a little nibble from dry forage...one teen wandered about- just being, pondering. Another teen pulled a camera out, milling around the flock she found inspiration in the ordinary as the brush beneath her feet cracked and crunched. 

 

Birds called to one another from the crisp tree tops overhead as Doc brayed for attention in his paddock. The dogs watched lazily from their shady spot- where the deep hole in the soil sits near their water bucket. Now and again the peace was broken by the sirens in the distance; a reminder of what is at stake.

 

Prayers are lifted from our hearts for those displaced, those in need, those lending aide, those on the line fighting the blaze. My mind makes mental inventory; priorities are organized and debated as silently I keep watch over my little ones who are seemingly unaware of what lies nearby.

 

There are things I would prefer to save if possible: curriculum, computers, quilts. Nothing so precious as my family--nothing I would risk one of them for. We talk amongst ourselves of possibilities; what we might have to face, to choose, if it comes down to it. Insights are precious- their hearts shared with me as we sit there in the shadow of smoky horizons.

 

Now is a time to find gratitude for all we are blessed with and all we have currently been spared from; a time to rejoice in our treasures and soak up our time here- together. The precious moments of just being here despite the drought and dust, despite the smoke and fears...being together; being spared. 

 

In this moment we make decisions to give to those in need: water for the firemen; clothes for those who lost theirs; pantry items for the food banks...above all prayer. My heart is touched by the compassion of my teenager's hearts toward those they have never met- what a blessing.

 

Conversation turns to those whom we know closer to the danger than we are- each takes a plan of outreach; a plan to be a listener..to reach out and keep in touch during their darkest moments..to be a friend and listed and lend. One moves back to the house; homework is calling...yes, there is much to do.

 

The time has come to gather them back to the fenced area where cool water and shade will give them rest. One by one my family goes to this and that- responsibilities are calling. Walking the gravel path back to the house a prayer of thanksgiving rises up...so grateful for a little time to gain perspective as we and the goats graze and daze.

Back to the Prairie VIII

The Scariest Place on the Farm

   Every farm has one: a creepy, scary place that terrifies the very core of your being. Since I had a tendency to be underfoot and often a little too chatty for my grandmother's sanity she often sent me to run here and there gathering this and that. I loved it; except when she sent me to one particular corner of the basement.

   

   Rising early with the sun shining and the wind whipping my braids energy seemed to just ooze from my being...as did my chatter. Ever so often my grandmother stops to give me a look; the one that says how can that much noise come out of something so small? She isn't angry with me, she just has so much to do. As our morning work draws us to the kitchen, the inevitable request is made run down to the basement to get some canned goods for me.

   I tremble. Nothing, I mean nothing, turns my blood cold like the pantry corner of the basement. Do I have to? I know the answer to that. Hesitation holds me in place- frozen. My mind races to find any way to escape the horrifying venture to the canning shelves. With no good excuse in mind my feet make their way to the top of the basement stairs. 

   Bright green indoor/outdoor carpet covering scritch-scratches under my bare feet as my heart begins to race faster with each step. Reaching the bottom of the staircase I stop, just to the left past the wash machine looms the canning shelves. Shrouded in darkness I inch closer into the deep; I feel for the chain to pull on the small light. Who put it so far back? 

   Right before I decide to run in the other direction and give up the little string cord is found...yank... faint light looms overhead. That's no help.. to make matters worse, the black metal shelves are curtained by vinyl table clothes. Inching toward the closest shelf I hold my breath as my hand pulls the cover back (surely there is something terrible hiding in such a creepy place). Not there; next shelf. My heart pounds as I move from one shelf to another. Last shelf of course I will myself to look once more. Finally..with jar in hand, I race back up the stairs through the kitchen to my grandmother's side. 

   Out of breathe and scared to death, relief starts to calm my racing heart and shaking hands. Grandma looks at the jar on the counter and says I thought I told you to get two. Oh, no; here we go again.

   There was rarely any real thing to be scared of down there in the dark pantry corner of the basement, but little girls have great imaginations..and, in my grandmother's eyes..probably watch too much TV. On occasion one of her cats was found hiding on those shelves, sending me running and screaming back up those stairs unwilling to go back down. With a click of her tongue and a shake of her head, my grandmother went herself, quite disapproving of my panic.

    All the years I went to the farm, those shelves never changed. Black and metal covered with vinyl table clothes to keep the dust and bugs off. It is a fond memory, but it still sends a chill over me when I think of rounding those stairs and facing 'the deep'.

Tasty, Yet, Traumatic...Who Knew?

   It's funny how some things stick with you over the years; little things, really...a quirk or pet peeve. One of my little farm-kids was just full of them..still is if we are to be truthful. Though things have lightened up and even changed over the years, a morning breakfast tasty trauma has stuck with us...and makes us roll with laughter every time we recall it.

   

   My farm-little's have always been hearty eaters and breakfast was no exception. Sometimes I got a little bored with the routine ..eggs, toast, juice..pancake, eggs, fruit...you get the idea. So to mix it up, sometimes I would take the standard fair and 'tweek' it. One one particular morning my preschool age tots were settled in their seats ready to dig right in when hysteria broke out.

   Tears and screams from one little one shook the very core of my being...what happened? Was she pinched in the chair? Smashed finger? What? It's looking at me!! My response was a blank stare and shock- what?

   So it seems, this little farm-tot is none to impressed with the great 'Toad in the Hole/Bird in the Nest/Camel's Eye" version of eggs and toast- scared her to death! The panic didn't subside until she could no longer see the 'awful thing'. Wow; who knew?

   Needless to say, I never made that particular variation of breakfast again; ever. Not until many years later did we even share the memory of this particular dramatic moment. She didn't forget (of course, neither did we:). 

   Now days, my farm-boy gets a hankering to be a brother..and makes this dish (generally when a certain farm-girl is not home) and remind us all of the bizarre tale. He loves 'toad in a hole' as he calls it..naturally, he's a farm-boy. Here is how he makes it:

Tasty Trauma (his idea..just go with it, please)

1 slice bread per person

1 egg per slice of bread

butter

Using a cookie cutter (I use a rather large round one) cut the center out of your bread. This can be done before or after buttering both sides--you do want the center cut out buttered as well. On a nice hot, buttered griddle or skillet, place your bread slice (cut out is placed beside it on the skillet) and break your egg into the cut out center. Cook this until it looks fairly 'set' then flip it..don't forget to flip the cut out piece. Cook to your desired consistency (we like ours done, not runny). Plate your dish placing that cut out piece slightly askew over the egg portion of the meal. 

Served with fruit and milk, a complete and tasty breakfast...hopefully no trauma :)

My farm-boy serves his with a berry smoothie...in case you wanted to know. (smile)

Join us, won't you?

   There is no denying it...they are near...wildfires. Yesterday we stayed up to date with the local news keeping track of the locations and evacuations near and around our section of the state. Our teens checked in from work to tell of intense smoke and concerned customers; yes, the panic is growing.
   We have not had rain or relief this year; only a break in the intense heat. Cooler weather brought strong winds and dry air..intensifying the dangerous fire conditions. Our hearts go out to those already affected and those in the immediate path. It is time for us to be prepared.
    Last night we contacted family members to check their plans in the case of evacuation, then making some plans of our own. Lists were made by order of importance..things desired to spare in case of disaster..things not so important as each other, yet, important none the less.
   Today we go about our routine; classes and homework, chores and meals..with concern looming on our faces and in our hearts. We keep in contact and keep in prayer; it's the only way. Do the next thing..it is all we can do.
   Join us today in prayer for those devastated, those in the path, and those who are yet to be in the path. Let's pray for the firemen, the local officials, the relief workers and the ones handing out that glass of water..that glimmer of hope. Pray for Texas and the grace of God upon her people. Join us, won't you?

For updates and information concerning the Texas fires please visit:
http://ticc.tamu.edu/Response/FireActivity/