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Gindi Vincent

The Dish on Career, Fashion, Faith, and Family

farm

Day 10 – Different Sunset

March 14, 2021 by Gindi Leave a Comment

I’m late writing Day 10. I must write my Friday posts on the weekend because I can.

That sunset. It’s at the farm. I didn’t get away for long, but there’s something about different sunsets. Different scenery.

I needed something different.

The boys left on Friday and little bit and I followed with an ice chest full of food Saturday morning. My plan was to cook for my in laws while I was there. It’s nice to serve someone else after having been served so well these past few months.

Little bit and I missed the last trip over to Louisiana because of her basketball schedule. This weekend is in between basketball and baseball/softball so we could get away.

I came back today, Sunday, because I had to return for my morning radiation tomorrow. And because my precious friend and pastor had a big birthday today and I got to celebrate with her and a few friends. It was so nice to be in someone’s backyard with more than just my family.

By the time we fought the insane “all of Texas” spring break traffic, we were at the farm by 1 pm. The kids ran off to work on the continued restoration efforts, the well house and saddle house are now up, and I worked inside.

We were so lucky to get to see Bray’s brother and sister who came in to help too. So Saturday night was a virtual family reunion. Remember, we hadn’t seen any of them over Christmas because we were on preventative lockdown (which of course failed!).

I brought plenty of food so I pulled together an appetizer platter – simple but impressed the farm neighbors who rode down with their dog on the Polaris. Everyone was in high spirits and laughing.

Sunday it was more breakfast and lunch cooking and then tidying up. After lunch, I could tell I was sunk. I hadn’t slept well and was crashing fast.

So I bid my family adieu and headed back to H-town so I would have time before the birthday dinner. I got through two more new podcasts and got a good Voxer chat in with my best friend.

All in all, the weekend away was what I needed. This week is my last week of “full breast” radiation and then we move into the focused booster where the tumor was removed. I’ll be at the halfway mark on Tuesday!

Filed Under: Women Tagged With: farm

On Bones, and Wood, Down Here At The Farm

March 1, 2015 by Gindi 1 Comment

He picked up the bone muddied with wear, “Is this wood?”

“No buddy, that’s from a cow, probably his leg.  But it sort of looks like wood after being out all this time in the weather.”

“I sure wouldn’t want wood in my body, mom.”  I agreed and we wandered through a conversation about historical artificial legs made from wood.

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The wind whipped our faces, a reminder that the day wasn’t as harmless as the sky led us to believe.

Our feet crunched on the gravel road as we picked our way back from the hay barn to the main farmhouse.  As boys are prone to do, he discovered another interesting artifact largely obscured by the clover.  He held it up proudly for my inspection.

“Set that down.  It’s sharp and rusty metal, we don’t want to have to go in for a tetanus shot.”

It’s rare this time, just he and I.  One brother was feeding cattle with daddy on the tractor.  Sister was settled into grandmother’s art studio over the hay.  We talked about the time daddy had to get a tetanus shot in the emergency room and about where we might find the crayons to make a picture and about all the clovers that peppered the cold acreage.

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The children had danced in all day with fistfuls of clover flowers which began to overfill the little glass we used for a vase.

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Grandfather happened by on the four-wheeler, and as his offer was a ride to feed the cattle, I lost out and found myself making the last leg of the journey alone.

There was a bi-plane in the distance.  Wind you could hear blowing through the trees.  A cow mooing.

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Alone feels good here.  Restorative.

I had a call on Friday that unsettled me.  I sat with the unknown and found tears leaking out late into the night.  I thought I’d be more scared of the quiet, but here I stood craving it.

I heard his refrain, “I wouldn’t want wood in my body.”  I imagined I wouldn’t either though I’ve certainly settled for a heart of stone, head full of nonsense and eating trash.  But wood?

I imagined those men of old, losing a leg to war or disease, and grateful for the wooden part fashioned to help them balance and walk.  And I could hear Jesus saying to those listening to Him speak, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me…” (Mark 8:34)  I wonder if there’s not some balance that worn old cross would give my life if I took up that wood and followed Him wherever He set out each morning?  I wonder if the longer I took up that cross if my bones might begin to look more like wood too?  If someone wandering by might look over and say, “is this wood?,” and I could reply with eyes dancing, “Yes, yes it’s the cross.”

I don’t know about a body full of wood, but a body relying on the old wood of the cross might be exactly what we should crave.

Filed Under: Faith, Family Tagged With: cross, farm

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