And no only so, but we glory in tribulations also; knowing that tribulation worketh patience . . . Romans 5:3

“Mom, you have succeeded in raising a bunch of nerds,” said my oldest, nerdiest son. 

Some of you may cringe at his statement, or my description of my oldest. Please, don’t. Nerd is pretty much a compliment in our family. Besides he would readily admit to his nerdiness. At age 10 the kid was reading a 500 page book about naval battles in the South Pacific during World War II. Now, as a 20 year old mechanical engineering student, the nerd title still fits.

As to his statement, it was well deserved. I had just bragged that all his younger siblings had completed their reading logs for our library’s summer reading program within the first week. For my younger children, 4 and 7, this means 12 hours of reading or being read to. I am not even sure of my teenage daughter’s reading requirement for the first award in this program, but she had completed it in a few days. And, yes, she only read books. No blogs, graphic novels, or Facebook posts. Just books and her Bible. Yep. We are nerds.

Of course, if the truth be told, I love summer reading as much as the kids. Not that I have ever been able to complete the 8 book requirement in 8 weeks for the adult reading program. I am way too hyper-energized by our glorious summer days on the Oregn Coast to dream of sitting around for endless hours reading. Although I am always working my way through some volume on history, the Christian walk, or biographical account, but my life only allows short bursts of reading. Perhaps I should try to read shorter books to meet that reading goal, but that’s just so unlike my nerdy self.

However, what I LOVE most about summer reading is all the amazing audio books the kids listen to on car trips. They have listened the entire Little House on the Prairie series, several of the Boxcar Children books, and are currently working their way through the Chronicles of Narnia. They love the stories, and I love their quiet contemplation while they listen. Okay. Fine. I love the stores, too. Sometimes I think enjoy them more than them. It seems I missed out on a lot of great books as a youngster, and I am reveling in all their joyous, innocent wonder. I have almost imagined myself lost in prairie grass and trapped in snow, discovering life’s mysteries through the eyes of four orphans, and journeying through that magical land of Narnia.

Right now we are with “Eustace” and “Jill” as they seek for the heir of Prince Caspian to fill the throne at Cair Paravel. If you have never read the Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis, then I highly recommend it . However, please do not confuse Lewis’s classics with the more recent occult tales. Lewis wrote on another level. His imiganry world of Narnia is delightful, moral, and encouraging. And his works only truly make sense if you have walked a walk with the Lion of Judah, Jesus Christ. Who else could be both terrible and good at the same time? Who else could swallow whole people and empires, yet have a specific task for each son of Adam and daughter of Eve? Jesus Christ is the only One that fits this description. 

. . . And patience, experience; and experience, hope . . Romans 5:4

Truly, Lewis’s character mirror many of the real life characters whose biographies I choose to read. These people are often Christians, but they are always. From George Washington to Joni Erickson Tada to Ayaan Hirsi Ali, I am enamored with the stories of those who gain victory over their enemies, both within and without. While engorging myself on the feast of their lives, I am struck with the uniqueness of every one’s life story. Because life is beautiful. Yes, it is hard. Sometimes, it is horrific. But, life overcoming the death that abounds on every side is beautiful. 

We all have stories. Sometimes the story seems to have no hope of a good ending. But that is the lie of the enemy. Where there is life there is hope. And perhaps we could gain some hope if we would only take the time to share our stories. Our vending machine, “How are you doing” and “I am doing fine” bit is not going to lend much hope. Our one line zinger tweets, only-positive Facebook posts, and emotionless texts are rarely going to encourage the down-hearted.  Sometimes these things are fine, but often they are misunderstood, misconstrued, and misaligned with real life. Our social media hyped-world has the propensity to be more fictitious than any creation of Lewis. Not to mention the REAL life we miss out on while engaging in our anti-social media online.

You know what I miss? Paul Harvey. I want the rest of the story. No. I NEED the rest of the story. I need to know behind that perfectly-posed profile picture there is an actual human being with actual life happenings. There is a person with feelings and experiences that I would be the better for knowing on the other side of that politcal meme. There are heartaches and losses of similar nature that I have shared in between all those hashtags.  I long for more “keeping it real” posts, tweets, and face to face encounters.

And this is the beauty of the story of our lives. Real lives. Real people. Real hurts. And, yes, my friends, real joy. And if you finding your life lacking of joy and hope then know the Author of Life is only waiting for you to come to Him to drink from His spring of Living Water to give you those things you are lacking. To give us hope and life eternal. And that,my friends, is the ultimate happy ending of the the most incredible story: Life that overcomes death to live forever with the Lifegiver and one another. 

And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.   Romans 5:5

                          Silage season in the Nestucca Valley.  . . the time of year when dairy farmers cut their most precious commodity crop -grass. Grass is worth a lot here: It is nearly impossible for a dairy farm to operate in the black on the Oregon coast without it. It saves dairy farms tens of thousands of dollars on feed costs every year. And it better, because it one of the most demanding seasons of a farmer’s year. Not only must the farmer continue to manage and work his dairy, he must coordinate the silage harvest. Many farmers harvest their own crops to save on the service fees, which can easily amount to ten thousand dollars.  

I have had some intimate experiences with this silage business as a farmer’s wife. While I have purposely managed to not make myself useful as a truck or tractor driver, I have still helped with this aspect on the farm. From supporting my husband, and his family,  through food and drink deliveries in the field or just picking up some of the farm work that they cannot complete, I have put in some serious hours during silage season. And once all the silage for the season is put up, there is still more work.

Knowing this,  that the trying of your faith worketh patience. James 1:3 

There are several different ways to store the grass harvest, but most often it simply gets piled up. We call it a silage pit. It generally consists of a cement floor surrounded by cement blocks. The grass is piled and compacted over and over. Often times the grass towers several feet above the cement blocks with a slope to the front of the pit. When the harvest is finished the pit has to be covered with plastic. The plastic is held down by tire sidewalls. This is where I usually come in. Yes, for several years I would climb that black tarp covered grass hill with a truck sidewall in each arm, and carefully place the tires all over the tarp. I have clocked it with my running app, and it can be the equivalent of 5 miles over 8 hours with 40 pound weights. It usually took my husband and I two full days of this work. Did I mention the tarp is black plastic? Needless to say this is a hot, dirty job.

And, then in 6-8 weeks we have silage: Fermented grass with layers of mold on top. Yes, this what the farmer reaps after all his hard work a pile of feed that has to have the mold shoveled off before he feeds it to his animals. What does this mean? You guessed it! Lots more hardwork. 

But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect, and entire, nothing wanting. James 1:4

Perhaps you have seen that beautiful, green freshly cut grass being hauled in the silage trucks to the farm. Sure it means doubling up an allergy medicine during silage season, but it smells good and looks pretty. Trust me, the finished grass silage looks nothing like that. It doesn’t smell like it either.

Now I will give you that silage done right doesn’t smell too bad. However, when you put your silage in a pit, there is always some spoilage. Spoilage is not pretty. It doesn’t smell good either. In my mind, moldy grass silage can smell as bad a manure. And it is worth less. The spoilage does not make as good of fertilizer as manure, but that it all it is good for.

I didn’t always have much contact with the moldy grass silage. Until the day my husband asked that question which is the bane of all farmer’s wives: “Don’t you want to spend some time with me ?” For a farmer’s wife this only means one thing–work. And, trust me, there are not a lot of clean jobs on the farm, and none of them are romantic. I have often thought my life could have had its own season on the show Dirty Jobs.

Of His own will begat He us with the word of truth that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures. James 1:18

This particular morning would bring me the privilege of shoveling off the mold off the silage pit. I experienced silage in a whole new way. But, as often happens with me and farm work, I experienced a truth of God in a whole new way. 

You see I when you are attempting to pick up your cross and follow after Christ you are always having to put down some things. Let’s face it crosses are heavy, and you cannot go around carrying a cross while carrying a nap sack full of things. Good things or bad things, there is just no room for anything else on your back, but that cross. Unfortunately, I still have some things in my nap sack. Actually, I have quite a few things. And it gives me a discouraged heart. A heart that is not sure it can keep that cross on its back. And at that moment on top of a 20 ft pile of molded, fermented grass I saw my heart.

Wherefore lay apart all filthiness and superfluity of naughtiness, and receive with meekness the engrafted word which is able to save your souls. James 1:21

If you have never seen an open grass silage pit, it is a sight to behold. The top layer consists of fluffy, white moldy grass. This grass flakes off easily in large shallow clumps. It is quite easy to throw off to the ground. But the next layer is kind of grey nastiness that is a lot heavier, and harder to throw down to the floor of the pit. This grass still comes off in nice sized chunks. You almost think you are to the good fermented grass at this point, but you have been deceived. On top of the edible, fermented grass is the slimy black mold. Not only is this mold dangerous to stand on, but in order not to waste good feed you must carefully scrap off just the black. Finally, you get to feed worthy of your dairy cows,and you leave it. Well, at least for a week or so. Then the tarp must be pulled back a little more, and you begin the whole process again. There is also that bit of nastiness on the pit floor that has to be carried away to the manure pile.

But, be ye doers of the word and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves. James 1:22

And so my inward life is like that grass silage pile. When Christ saved me, and gave me a clean heart, it was fairly easy for me to let Him get rid of the top layer of sin. Obviously bad stuff. The stuff everyone can see. But the next level, was a a lot more work for both of us. It took several different commitments on my part. It took being faithful to read and study His word. It took joining a body of local believers, called a church. It took living with an out loud testimony for Christ. It was some times a painful process, but mostly just work. But now, there is that black, slimy stuff. The stuff that touches all the good work Christ has done in me, and threatens to spoil it. This is deep painful stuff. The roots of all my selfish sin. The stuff that is so much a part of me I don’t know how to live without it. This is the stuff that makes me feel like collapsing under that cross. 

As I was breathlessly shoveling a way at that moldy silage I could hear my Savior pleading with me to let Him take off another layer of mold. I could see the mold. It was nasty, useless, and dangerous. But, it was a part of me. I reminded Him that I had already lot Him remove something deep a few months ago. That mold was guilt. I didn’t know how to live without it. It was a part of me I put down at the altar at youth camp that summer–as counselor! That had been humiliating enough. It had been terrifying. I wasn’t ready to have my heart’s mold shoveled at any more, not yet. Couldn’t we just leave it alone for a while longer?

For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man be holding his natural face in a glass: For he beholdeth himself and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was. James 1: 24

And being the gentleman He is, He left me shoveling at that stinky rotten silage to ponder my choice. I was choosing hurt rather than healing, black night versus beautiful light, sin instead of righteousness. I wanted to keep my silage pile of life the way it was. As if in leaving decaying matter to the open air of life could stop the fungus from growing on top of it, and keep it from multiplying in a myriad of directions. But it was my choice. And in that moment I choose to hold onto my 20ft deep pile of insecurity versus receiving the security of the Rock. 

Life is like a silage pile. We all have rotting parts, inside and out. Sometimes we try to keep our rottenness covered with black tarps, and sealed with truck sidewalls. But the rotten juices flow out from beneath, and we are not fooling anyone but ourselves. We even plug nose to our own stench and try to point out the rotten juices from other silage piles. And, God forbid, someone else would actually pull back their tarp and start to shovel away the mold. They just lay out all their life  for everyone to see. But beneath the varying molds, and layers of foulness is something good. Something that can feed others to produce a life giving substance. Maybe it IS time to open that silage pit.

But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed. James 1:25

That day I wasn’t ready for another gentle scrape from my Savior, but I knew the day would come that I would grow weary carrying around that sickening mold. And the question remains, why carry it another day?