KH eats Crow

Warning complete harvest post forthcoming:

“If you’re not living on the edge you’re taking up too much room”

Somehow this quote keeps entering my life encouraging me to get out of my same ol same and shake the norm up a little.

Idk what norm looks like to you- but this time of year- I’ve done the same routine 1000s of times. Load up my “farming without a cab” starter kit (sunscreen, rain coat, sunglasses, earplugs, battery pack, etc) and jump on my faithful 7330 John Deere and hit the field. From there the dust and the silage and the good times roll until the end of the day and I drag home a filthy, exhausted, completely happy wreck. Repeat the next day.

But something happened this week that will forever change the tint in my rose colored glasses.

I tasted life on the other side of the tracks.

I’ve lost count how many years/ how many conversations have happened because of the differing opinions on equipment. But we’ve burned up a fair amount of energy on the subject, particularly with our friends at Shen Valley Custom. Invariably the conversation happens and it usually follows the same outline. It’s all in fun- the banter between John Deere and Claas (my dad wrote a few poems on this subject) or John Deere and Fendt tractors or John Deere and Case combines… but at the end of the day we go home completely satisfied with our continued #deereseason. In short, we run Deere equipment and are living happily ever after. More of a lengthy discussion would be that most of our cart tractors are open station tractors (without cabs) meaning that we eat dust and bake in the sunshine and live happily ever after- rocking that farmer’s tan.

This week we had a fairly lengthy road haul from the field to the farm, and we had 3 Shen Valley outfits on the job. The one cart operator had to leave, so my dad looked at me “Ken, go run that JCB”

Wait, what?!

One of the other guys gave me a quick run down of the tractor and with a “you’re going to end up writing a blog about this” he left me to my own devices.

What happened next is the shocking part: I had a blast. We flew down the road over 40 mph.

The sun shone in the cab and I turned up the AC. The sun set and I turned up the heat. Music kept me company. The gravel road dirt hung in the air and hit my windshield and I cleaned it off with Windex.

“Cabs are certainly unnecessary” I told myself as I reached into the fridge to retrieve my cold drink.

“Still not necessary” I told myself as I followed the cutter around the field and the silage rained down on the top of the hood, and I stayed perfectly clean.

But who am I kidding? I smiled so much that my face hurt.

As I tore along in my little yellow JCB sunbeam, I was just reminded again to make my words sweet.

Because sometimes when you’re super opinionated and vocal about it- those words return to haunt you.

But it’s ok- as long as I’m traveling down the road 40+ mph- maybe they won’t catch up with me.

If this is life on the edge- I think it agrees with me 🤷🏻‍♀️😂😂

Grinny Kenny

Dog Tales: Part 2- Literally Chewed Up 🐾

Well, I’m back in town. Detroit Snappenbarker Mendoza who doesn’t show up for a year, then is writing 2 weeks in a row. But here I am, story in toe. (No, I did not misspell that.)

Last time I was ranting about being chewed out. You won’t believe what got chewed up this round. Yep- me! A much lesser dog wouldn’t have survived-but here I am. Regardless- hide your eyes because it was a terrible, horrible fight. Here’s the facts:

The Harvest Monster comes to call this time of year. I can always sense it’s arrival. My human family walks a little faster. They are gone a lot more, but when they are around, they talk a little louder and laugh a little more. This Harvest Monster is not something to be feared, only respected. And managed within an inch of its life. That’s the part where I shine.

“Get ready” I told my assistant Rolo “it’s show time this week.”

And it was. I rode down the road on the tractor with KH carefully planning my day.

Things went well, the first day of Paradise Lane Chopping Season.

The other dogs rode with the cart operators some, but not me. I was in charge of air traffic control in at the trench, and I manned the control tower like someone’s life depended on it.

Day 2 went equally as smoothly. Finally I decided I just had to get to the field, the trench was filling up and there was decisions to be made with what to do with the rest of the corn (PTL for this problem!) so I ran out to check the chopping progress.

What happened next I will never tell. But the Farmer was riding across the open field on his trusty four wheeler when I met him with a feeble salute. He stopped and I climbed on his fourwheeler before he knew what happened. “Medic” I mumbled “I need a medic”

There’s a wide range of guesses as to what happened to me. In short- My foot looked like it got in a losing fight with a meat grinder. Basically I’ll give you all of them and you can go with whichever logic you like best :

The Farmers guess: that I was in the standing corn and forgot that the chopper ate 10 rows at a time instead of 8. And somehow those vicious knives on the head managed to mangle 2 of my toes. (KH was running the cutter and she does not like this option, and can argue it away in about 5 seconds) I am tough as nails- maybe I was just too much for that ol beast to munch on.

Mr Good’s version: that I was going for a pedicure and got trimmed a little closely. (Ummm Hello- does he really think I’m that high maintenance?)

The Farmer’s Daughters ideas: maybe a trap or a sharp corn stalk or something caught my poor toes as I rushed past and yanked the pad off… (what kind of a dunce would blunder into a trap? And are freshly chopped corn stubble really a lethal weapon?)

But like I said- I will never tell.

In the end EMT Em wrapped my wounded paw up and held me close as KH drove the getaway vehicle to Ashby Vet Clinic where a very nice man gave me the opportunity to sleep really soundly while they stitched me up.

I’ve got a beautiful purple bandage that’s driving my crazy- but hey I’ll take the Purple Heart I definitely earned.

So anyhow- message me if you need an address to send get well soon cards, steak, balloons, steak, roses or steak. I’m going to need some cheering up while I wait this one out.

Farm Manager, currently on sick leave,

Detroit Snappenbarker Mendoza

Dog Tales: Chewed Out For Being Chewed Up 🐾

It’s me again- Detroit Snappenbarker Mendoza, the Farm Manager around here. It’s been forever since you’ve heard from me. Honestly there’s been so many things to keep track of, that writing has not been a priority. I’m no stranger to the pen, you might say- I do keep careful records of crops, spray, weather, and traffic that goes past our place- so there’s lots of data to be had. But anyhow. Here I am, back again on the blog smog

I just don’t get my human family. The girls all rush in and out and show up with varying levels of worthless dogflesh and I’m supposed to be in charge of training them to help around here. Sweet. 😏 And then when these pure bred dogs don’t meet expectations- guess who gets yelled at? The one with the high profile expensive papers? Or your humble servant mutt? It’s unbelievable!

This weekend was another round of training with the youngest member on the force. Pagosa White has been around for over a year now, but she’s only under my tutelage occasionally. (Most of the time she’s employed at the neighbors dairy) The family left us at home for a few hours and returned to see that the extension cord somebody forgot to put away was in about 500 pieces.

The adorable blonde not so innocent Pegs

I met them at the lane with my tail engaged in the slow “I’m so glad you’re home and you won’t believe what happened” wag. They got out of the truck in disbelief and after Pagosa fell all over herself exclaiming about how good it was to see them, they calmly said “Pegs! Bad dog!” And that was it.

I followed KH around the corner of the house and watched as she put a few things up out of reach of the chewing monster. It seemed a little fishy that Pagosa climbed up on the picnic table to inspect what all KH put there- but hey-what do I know?

I’m more of a morning dog, so I headed to bed in decent time leaving the night patrol to Rolo and the assistants assistant- the chewing maniac. Wrong move.

Rolo pretending to sleep in the midst of turmoil

As the sun slipped over the mountains, and shone its merry rays on our back yard, you wouldn’t believe the war zone that greeted us: plants had been uprooted, flower pots chewed to pieces, the rain gauge is no longer accurate, and everything that was on the picnic table was all over the yard in pieces.

Pegs and the not guilty Farm Manager

KH assessed the damage and said some stern things to Pagosa, but what happened next is what I couldn’t believe- she looked at me and said “Detroit! Why didn’t you stop her?” My heart crushed into as many pieces as that rain gauge and my tail gave about two thumps. What me?! It’s punishment enough to have to spend most of the night listening to the chewing, let alone being responsible to stop it. What about Rolo? She was sure as involved with this mess as I am.

So I’ve had it. I’m sick of being chewed out for things being chewed up.

Next thing that gets destroyed might be me going after those fancy spancy pedigree papers. Maybe that would slow down the crunching.

Your humble mutt and farm manager,

Detroit Snappenbarker Mendoza

I Sure Could Use A Little Rain…

Thick dark clouds hung over the road ahead of me as I hurried home. They were unmistakably en route for my hometown. I smiled and drove a little faster. “Yes!” I thought “Thank you, Jesus! You know how badly we need rain.”

My smile widened as I rolled through Singers Glen. The little side ditches were filled to the brim, as the water rushed along. “At last!” I thought “Hallelujah!”

But then, as has became the pattern in the last little while, the rains stopped basically at our property line. I drove in our dusty lane, and discovered my very discouraged Dad cleaning the bus. (To be totally honest, cleaning the bus is discouraging on a good day) “It just missed us.” He reported “It stopped just south of us, and took off just north of us.” ( I didn’t tell him about the rain that had just skirted to the east of our farm. 🤔

As I stopped at the edge of our fields and watched the rapidly disappearing rain head on up the Valley, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad. The grass crunched beneath my feet. The wind rustled through our once super promising crop of soybeans. “Water?” They seemed to plead “Water? Water?” But not today.

I don’t think it would be so hard if the rain wasn’t almost within reach. If the storms weren’t visibly turning and skipping our little Valley. If the neighbors grass wasn’t literally greener… All around us are reminders of the tremendous start to the year, but with the lack of moisture- the bean crop just won’t become as bountiful as it started out to be.

Can you identify with the dry spell? Does it seem like all the blessings, answered prayers, and exciting discovers are all at the neighbors? Or maybe what started out as looking so promising is ending up withering into a cactus while the sun beats down.

I’m so thankful that God is there through every season. And even when the questions and challenges seem to stretch on and on- He knows when to send the rain.

Ask Him for rain. And don’t doubt His provision.

It rained this afternoon. Already the world is a greener place.

Bring on the rain. I’m sure ready.

Kendra

Bonus pics:

Favorite pic from Family vacation…

It’s that time of year already 🤩 Excitement is slightly elevated around here- you might say. ☺️

Snaps of Summertime

I love summertime. Last week I got in on 3 shrimp suppers in a row. As I watched my week disappear in a trail of shrimp tails- I couldn’t help but smile. As I said- I love summertime!

There are plenty of adventures going on around here. Father and his childhood bestie, Leon caught a flight to LAX and drove a bus home as fast as they could go. It took them about 3 days and a steak meal in Amarillo, TX. We are excited to have an updated bus for Valley Christian Churches.

I made a discovery in the garden last week:

And just a few days later:

It seems like our family is all about babies right now- and I don’t foresee that obsession becoming any less in the near future. God is so good!

I found this quote on a piece of wall art and it spoke my heart throb so well- I went on line to see if I could find it. So here it is: the author certainly understands the love of farming 💞

It is what I know –

And what I love.  Up before the crack of dawn with a morning ritual that includes a strong cup of joe, a quick glance at the weather and always a check on the market because

I was born to be a FARMER.

It’s overlooking the beauty…

Of the earth and the smell of freshly tilled soil, entrusted to the vastness of what we call a field.  It’s watching and waiting to see all of those millions of little seeds start to sprout through the ground in rows as straight as a ruler, bringing great satisfaction, because

I was born to be a FARMER.

It’s having great faith…

As the storm comes in, knowing that the green, tender plants could be wiped out in a matter of seconds.  Or, when the rain simply doesn’t come and watching the plants wither until, at the last minute of almost losing hope, a rain cloud comes.  And the sky opens right at that moment, with just enough to get a little relief and a renewed faith because

I was born to be a FARMER.

It’s keeping up

With technology, realizing that it’s a sure necessity. But always looking back with the fondest of memories and great admiration of how Dad and Grandpa did things, because

I was born to be a FARMER.

It’s a partnership…

A working partnership with the good Lord Almighty.  Without Him, it could not be done.  It is His divine guidance that gets me through each season from planting to the harvest.  Through the storms and the drought, the highs, and the lows.  Some say it’s a gamble, but to me, it’s a way of life, because

I was born to be a FARMER.

By Marla Rae Anders

Hope your week is blessed. I’m enjoying some quality time with a few of my favorites and God’s beautiful creation.

Kendra

Through the Fire

We crowded against the window mesmerized by the action on the floor below us. The intense heat rose up and up. It ooozed through the glass, making it impossible for the AC to keep up, and threatened to stifle us. I took my hard hat off and tried to create a bit of air movement for me. But I still couldn’t tear myself away.

We were touring the Caterpillar Foundery in Mapleton, IL. Our enthusiastic guide explained thoroughly the entire process of creating engine blocks, etc (thanks to him for the pics of this tour) So here it goes to the best of my memory/understanding (both of which can be pretty limited 🤔)

We watched each step carefully: Recycled metal is dumped into a giant furnace and heated to a red hot lava (it’s much more scientific than that 😏). The giant oven opens and pours out the red hot lava into a container.

Slowly- a giant hook lowers from the crane above and lifts the container carrying tons of liquid metal into the sky and moves purposely towards the next stop- the bright red/ heat reflects on the operators face as he moves along the ceiling of the building. The next oven opens and the liquid is poured in. From there the temp is maintained in these “waiting ovens” as the large batch is divided into smaller batches (four blocks/pour)

Just like clockwork- a smaller batch is poured into a smaller container. It moves on a track to where workers check the temp (2645°F) the slag is drawn off and then- another crane operator carries it over and meticulously pours the next 4 molds. These new molds/blocks move to the next stage, and the process repeats.

As I referenced- it was uncomfortably warm, but still I stayed. My mind raced- I thought about the familiar Bible story where the King demanded his subjects worship him instead of God. When Shadrach, Meschach, and Abednego refused, the King heated the furnace so hot that it killed the people standing around outside. He threw the men inside and was shocked by the fact that there were suddenly 4 men in the fire, walking around. Long story short- an angel joined the men and protected them so that they didn’t even have a hair singed.

As the fire continued- I kept thinking about the verse that’s talking about eternal punishment “where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched” and it hurt my heart to think of someone deliberately making choices against God that would lead to suffering in hell forever and ever and ever.

And then I thought of another facet of fire: difficult experiences. It’s incredible how the metals are all thrown into the fire and purged- the junk slag is lifted off and in the end- they come out beautifully. But that’s not the end. After the refining process, and the proper degassing time, the newly formed piece of metal again enters the oven to be retempered- making sure that it’s ready for work. The return to the heat removes any weaknesses and eliminates future issues.

I don’t know what fire your story includes. I don’t know if you’re in the initial refining fire, or if you’re in the recurring heat treatment. But I’m currently studying the life of Joseph and I’m so challenged with his response during his conversation with his brothers as he reflected on the unfair events of his life (being sold as a teenager, being imprisoned, but finally being promoted to grain manager during a terrible drought in Eygpt) “God did send me” (Gen 45.) Life includes tough times. But if God is in control- the end results can be a blessing.

May God give you a glimpse of the ministry the furnace times are preparing you for.

Blessings,

Kendra

Bonus Pics:

A few more pics from our travels last week.

Lake Superior where the water is cold, but the view is beautiful.

Enjoyed visiting a Hutterite Colony in Minnesota. These people were very gracious with allowing us a glimpse into their lives. I brought home a recipe in case you were wishing to bake cookies for a crowd:

We found some of my mom’s family scattered here and there.

Beautiful countryside

As always so thankful for protection along the way on each adventure. Glad to explore, but so glad to be home 💞

Quick Photo Tour of Canada

I don’t know if you’ve noticed- but my posts follow a definite pattern: travel, harvest, travel, harvest…

Wheat harvest was a wonderful flurry of busy days, late nights, grain trucks, and wheat dust. And in typical form- I was looking in my rearview mirror as the dust settled and the little soybeans popped out of the ground in beautiful green rows.

I jumped out of the combine, grabbed my passport and spent the last 13 days touring the Northland. So here goes: a quick photo tour of my favorites from Canada 🇨🇦

Reportedly the water levels at the Great Lakes are feet above normal. The green waters RUSHED over Niagara Falls and it was something to see.

Totally enamored by the little carts at the end of everybody’s lanes where you could buy anything from firewood to butter tarts to fresh cut bouquets.

Enjoyed watching a wide range of farming activities:

Pretty impressed with the goat dairy- not even kidding 😆

Saw more lakes and trees than you could possibly count. Even took a kayak out to chase a loon.

Stayed up late enough to watch the sunset.

Watched a polar bear swim after his moose rib breakfast.

Got a new understanding of the Canada Shield ( super hard rock outcroppings all over the northern part of Canada- pictures directly behind the cattle)

Even made up a few lame jokes- Did you know that in Massey, ON they occasionally write the town name on the side of their tractors? 🤷🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

But most outstanding were the acres and acres of Lupine we saw in the ditches along the way.

I love the reminder that if God tends the flowers along the way- how MUCH more does He care for you and me?

And that, my friends, is a 90 second tour of Canada minus summer sausage and Tim Hortons coffee. Added bonus of no mosquitoes or black flies.

Be Blessed, eh?

Kendra

God Promises to Care for His Children

Me: I think I’m going to blog

My mom: do you think throwing your voice into the frenzy will make a difference?

Me: I’ll feel better


My first introduction to Christian Aid Ministries was in the mid 90s. My dad took tractor and trailer loads of used clothes to CAM clothing center in Shipshewana, Indiana. Annoyingly, we girls had to take turns going with him, but the adventure was always worth it. We’d return home and compare notes on who had spotted the most barges on the rivers between here and there, what food (or lack of it -because my dad forgets to eat when he’s busy🙄) had been consumed, and all the latest stories from Felty the Amishman. I remember wandering up and down the aisles in the sorting room and staring at the big posters on the walls. The dark eyes of innocent children in a far away land burned themselves into my heart.

And CAM continues to touch my heart as they reach out to the world around them.

And I find them everywhere. I’ve spent countless days in their warehouses in PA sorting clothes and packing food (thanks in part to my job as a van driver). I watched the ladies at sewing circle spending hours assembling layette kits, and new clothing kits.

I’ve spent a number of nights at their base in Nicaragua, and appreciated the carefully organized boxes preparing to head into the mountains to provide for the less fortunate.

I even found them in the boondocks of Cambodia surrounded by water buffalo- helping establish safe water sources for people in desperate need.

If there’s a flood, a fire, or a refugee crisis-you can count on them being among the first responders. I love being a part of being “the hands and feet of Jesus” by supporting this Ministry.

And then all the blogs and posts started filtering into my life. Someone somewhere let the organization down. Satan is leading a huge attack on the work of the church and people are reacting. Sometimes I hate social media. The comments run wild and I finally quit reading. Sin is not ok. This is not an accurate representation of “conservative Anabaptists” or “CAM” as the accusations indicate. None of us would support the heinous things that happened. Trust has been broken.

This makes me so sad.

“This has potential to be big” everyone says, and my heart sinks as I think about the millions of lives touched that would be affected if “BIG” is indeed the foreboding dark cloud on the horizon.

But as I’m praying over the situation, God starts reminding me “don’t you remember my promises to the widows and the fatherless? What about “once I was young, but now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken nor his seed begging bread.” I care more about the people affected by this then you do. Trust me. I will provide.”

And so I just want to stop for a moment on this beautiful Monday morning to praise our Amazing Heavenly Father for His goodness and grace, and the fact that He holds His Children in the palm of His Almighty Hand.

He will provide 💞

Praise Him,

Kendra

Bonus Adventures

Have you ever stopped in the middle of something random that’s entered your life and just laughed and thought “I have no idea how I got into this, except God…”

Just when I thought our Jordan adventure was as full of adventure as it possibly could be, the plot thickened: it’s called an 8 hour layover en route.

We landed in Rome at 7 am and thanks to the hours we’d spent previously surfing the web, reading up on how to catch a train from the airport to downtown- it wasn’t long until we were boarded and traveling again.

Our adventure was amazing. We spent €3 on a map that did a decent job of getting us to where we were going. (I discovered later that the map was in Spanish 🤔 maybe that explains why things began to unravel towards the end of our visit🤷🏻‍♀️)

Our main goal was to see the Colosseum and as much ancient history as possible- so we set out, stopping occasionally to take pics of narrow streets and beautiful window boxes.

This is a beautiful City.

And the Colosseum is impressive. We didn’t have time for a tour- and judging from the masses of people who were standing in line waiting for the place to open, I’m glad we weren’t counting on it.

Every thing went off flawlessly until I uttered the infamous words “hey we are near the Trevi Fountain, want to go see that while we are here?” So we took a side road following our supposed trusty map and circled and asked store owners with varying degrees of English and stopped by McDonalds and tried to get info using their WiFi as the battery on my phone dipped down below 10%. 🤔 In the end, we walked around the block at McD’s and met a tour group. We jumped in behind them, following them to the right spot, and joined the throngs attempting to throw coins into the fountain. Not worth it.

So there we were at the Fountain with a Spanish map that had failed. By this time it had been tooo long since any of us had slept, and tooo many miles since anybody had eaten. We would finally find a street name and then guess at what direction we needed to be heading.

I’ve always heard “when you’re in Rome you do like the Romans” so we swung in for Gelato for breakfast while we planned our next attack (don’t judge).

I guess the sugar kicked in because it wasn’t long before we’d made the right connections and were headed back to the trainstation as fast as our shoes would take us.

And some 7.5 miles later, we made our train with about 3 minutes to spare. Why was I worried?

*note for next time: Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither can it be explored in a day- but it was well worth the adventure.


We learned a lot from round one: so we went back to the drawing board for the grand finale. I downloaded ENGLISH maps for the event. We again hit up google, and asked lots of questions from those who’d visited before. The reports varied: “not enough time” ” you’ll be fine!” “The train is super confusing” “most people speak English, but are stingy with it, preferring for you to speak their language” hmmm

So with a combined amount of trepidation, exhaustion, and excitement- we entered the custom lines in Paris.

In a lot of ways this stop was less stressful than Rome, other than when we almost crashed and burned switching trains near Notre Dame ( why would they list all the stops the train makes excluding the ones on the map🤷🏻‍♀️) but we found an angel who spoke English and pointed us in the right direction.

We were early- like 7 am and the clouds threatened and only the gardeners were out. It was beautiful!

We hiked along the Seine River trying not to get run over by the super ambitious bikers and runners out getting in their morning exercise. There is to much culture along the river.

We checked on the rebuilding efforts at Notre Dame and decided that they really didn’t need our help, and caught the train back to the airport. Thankfully we managed to catch the express train- so in no time, we were back in line at customs, reviewing the pics on our phones to verify that we’d actually been there. This was an easy day- we didn’t even walk 7 miles. But no sleep/ no food/ it felt good to be back in time for the flight. 😅

These ladies are the best adventures. 💞 (this pic is from Wadi Rum because the selfie in front of the Eiffel Tower is not worthy to be posted)

So thankful for God’s blessing on a sense of adventure. I know that He was there carefully supervising as we put each piece into our gigantic travel puzzle.

Only regrets- didn’t have time for Pizza in Rome, or crepes in Paris. Next time?

I hope you can sense God’s input in your adventure too.

Blessings,

Kendra

Cultural Experiences in Jordan 🇯🇴

I have never visited any of the countries in the Middle East. I love learning about other cultures, and this trip did not disappoint. In fact the learning hit as soon as we stepped out of the airport. Groups of men in their flowing white robes stood there greeting each other with multiple kisses. “This is going to be rich” I thought to myself. And it was.

*Because of different courtesies/guidelines my pics here will not include my friends- but hopefully you can still get a feel for the different experiences regardless. 🙂

We turned off the main road, drove thru miles of junk yard. Turned right beside the herd of camels, and wound our way up the hill to the new mosque and the long line of apartment buildings. Partway along the buildings, we stopped and started the hike up the multiple stairs until we came the right door. (Rach led with confidence- how she picked the right building out of a long kind of identical buildings is beyond me- but I didn’t question, only followed.)

The family’s handicapped son opened the door for us and we were ushered in to sit on mats in the living room. The mom kept up a constant chatter while the daughters came in and out answering WhatsApp video calls, and offering us drink. I focused on not having a heat stroke, keeping my feet tucked properly to the side, and not falling asleep; while Rach kindly interpreted this lady’s story of fleeing her hometown in the middle of the night, carrying her daughters; of her lament over their house being bombed and burnt after their departure; and the change from the lush green of her homeland to the dry brown of Jordan. She showed us pics of her grandchildren and talked excitedly about her desire to see them. Rach disappeared into the kitchen to help with meal prep and she kept up a string of Arabic that had my travel companions and I totally lost.

We sat on the floor to eat and although my feet wanted nothing more than to be pointed straight out in front of me- in a culturally offensive way- my heart was happy. “This is rich” I thought to myself

We arrived in Jordan over the ending of Ramadan (30 days of no food/water during sunlight hours) This brought a unique set of challenges since it’s actually illegal to eat or drink in public. But it also provided lots of educational opportunities for this brief culture study. Every morning at 2:30 the drummer would come by waking the neighborhood, encouraging everyone to eat before the sunrise. we stood out on the porch the one morning as he hurried up the street, and he stopped right beside us to sing. The poor guy’s voice sounded shot.

The ending of Ramadan called for a celebration (called Eid) The Park at the end of our street was buzzing with activity as people hurried to pray in the early morning. The chant went on and on for 2 hours creating so much noise and a basic “no sleep zone” for some of us.

The man paused in his careful layering of tiny stone pieces to show us his work. He is a professional with the Mosaic artwork- a tedious masterpiece that is beautiful when finished. I notice the yellow letter on his shirt (same letter as the 2 wooden pieces on the bottom right of this pic) It’s the sign that was painted on the houses of the Christians in his hometown. When the radicals returned, this sign meant his family was either heavily taxed, or the men killed and the ladies abused. Seeing these people working to pull together the pieces of their broken lives was really heart wrenching.

Our hostess was beautiful and gracious and she spoke English. (Also she had an available brother or cousin to offer for each of our group- but we’ll leave that there.) She was breaking fast to feed us a meal, and was so excited to have foreigners visiting her home. Her family kept calling and asking us to stay for Iftar (the meal after sundown) and she was sure we needed to spend the night… Her husband took us to the Wadi after his evening prayer and we waded in the water and enjoyed drinking in the green surrounding the small creek. She promised to take us to her family farm the next visit. I’m planning to remember that 🙂

The sunset threw some pink hues into the sky and the prayer call echoed all over Amman. I sat up on the roof in the refreshing evening breezes watching the lights turn on all over the city, enjoying the chatter of energetic boys, and the companionship of good friends, while savoring the best grilled hotdogs and French fries I’d had in awhile. “Yes, this is rich” I told myself

A few more random snapshots of life in Jordan:

The Jordan people are Bedouin which means that originally they were nomads living in tents, tending their flocks and herds. There is still a lot of that going on today. And KH felt compelled to comment on every.single.one she saw. Bless the patient ladies who traveled with her.

As we traveled along, and I caught snatches of shepherds sitting in the sun watching their animals. I was amazed at what a boring job that would be. It’s no wonder that David wrote music and became skilled with his sling shot.

It’s wheat harvest in Jordan and I was hoping for a chance to see it firsthand. We traveled to the northern part of the country and missed a road and there it was- in all of its New Holland glory. Rach asked the old farmers sitting under the shade tree if it was ok for me to enter the field and take a pic. They welcomed me. Apparently the wheat is bagged at the clean grain elevator instead of being loaded into the grain bin. Then several workers hoists the big sacks onto the back of a truck and they head for the elevator.

It was also interesting to see the long line of cabover Mercedes loading grain onto a ship at Aqaba. Worlds away from my life in VA, yet so similar to my family’s line of work 🙂

Thank you, people of Jordan for opening your homes to us and for helping me gain a better understanding of your way of life. I pray that the Light within you shines brighter and brighter.

And I hope I get to visit again soon.

Kendra

Bonus Pics:

Random foods at the open air market.

This man wrote my name on a piece of rice. “You have a very long name” he said. I thought he could just be glad that it was Kendra who hired him instead of Jennifer or Rebecca, but I held my peace 😂