A glimpse into the workings of a Reformationist Christian who loves the Lord, his wife, children, birddog and flyfishing...

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

The last of the Cantaloupe and Pain and Suffering



No Fishing Report. Hunter’s Ed class was good and looked at some really nice English Setters but that is a discussion for another time.

We pick some cantaloupe today probably the last of the season and they were sweet.

Well time for a real tough conversation. Guys out there in cyberspace, love your wife like she needs to be loved. I made the mistake of trying to fix things and loving my wife the way I would want. Bad move. That just leads to unmet expectations and needs that are not met without being directed. We should know our wives intimately and not just in the “biblical” sense. We need to court them all over again how do they want to be cared for, when do they want us to listen and when do we take action. Song of Solomon 2:3 Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my lover among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste. 4 He has taken me to the banquet hall, and his banner over me is love. 5 Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love. 6 His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me. 7 Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. 8 Listen! My lover! Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. 9 My lover is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice. 10 My lover spoke and said to me,"Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. 11 See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. 12 Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. 13 The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me." Does your wife think of you like this, she should. Do you give her reason too? You should. Work at it, each marriage is different so work at the right ways to love her. Don’t let the days pass awaken the desire in you to love her and that will awaken her to love you. Whether you have been married a week, a year, or decades we all need encouragement to go the distance. Run the race and don’t grow faint. A in the name of the most Holy don’t go anywhere else to get your needs met. God’s plan is for the two of you to met each other’s needs. Paul admonished us in 1 Corinthians 7: 4 The wife's body does not belong to her alone but also to her husband. In the same way, the husband's body does not belong to him alone but also to his wife. This means your whole body including eyes and ears. Take heed of this and keep yourselves pure. It is the best way to show your wife that you love her. She deserves to feel cherished. She is a gift to you and no one else, a gift from God.

Friday, October 3, 2008


I read this on my favorite forum (drakemag.com) This essay was written by Bob White (whitefishstudio.com) and is for all the wood cutters and burners out there.

Something new for you to read. I woke up at 2AM and couldn't go back to sleep, so I wandered up to the studio to try and dig my way out from under a pile of "to do's".

After getting cold, and lighting the first fire of the season, I figured I'd be happier at dawn if I did something fun.

Firewood

I knew I'd been living in Berkeley too long when I saw a sign that said “Free Firewood" and my first thought was, who was Firewood and what did he do?
~ John Berger


It was just the two of us, staring into the last fire of the season; another summer in Alaska had come and gone, the lodge had been boarded-up, and in the morning we’d leave to make our way through another winter until spring and the next fishing season.

“Fire’s an interesting thing.” Rusty, the old guide said for no particular reason.

I pushed a round of spruce back into the flames with the toe of my boot, and sparks climbed high into the dark autumn sky, dancing away on the biting wind.

“Have you ever thought about what you’re really watching when you look at a fire?” He asked without looking up for a reply. And then, as it was his habit to answer his own questions, he told me. “What you’re actually watching and feeling right now is sunlight that’s been accumulated and stored in the trees we’re burning. Years of concentrated sunshine are being released in this fire.” He said. “I figure that for as long as we’ve been doing this together, we’ve watched a couple of thousand summers go by.”

It was cold early this morning when I got up to the studio, and I felt compelled to start the first fire of the season. With the realization that autumn is upon us, I’ve begun to think about firewood and thus gauge the woodpile with a critical eye. Depending upon the winter we’ll burn three to four cords of hardwood to heat the studio until spring. Since there’s a variety of softer wood mixed into the pile it may even stretch to five, but as anyone who heats with wood will tell you; if you need five cords to make it through, you won’t rest easy until there’s at least eight or ten cords stacked and covered. Heating with wood teaches one about planning for the future, and I look upon the woodpile in much the same way as our retirement accounts; it’s better to end up with a little too much than not enough.

Ten cords of cut and stacked firewood represents a considerable investment of time and labor, but I don’t mind. I feel secure, even somehow wealthy, when the chore is finished. Not that the work ends with the falling of the first snowflakes. Winter is the best time to cut and split wood for the following year. It’s a joy to work in the woodlot without overheating, and even the toughest rounds seem to fairly explode beneath a splitting maul when the temperature falls below zero.

Watching my father split cordwood, “making wood” as he called it, is one of my fondest childhood memories, and I became enamored by the tools of a woodcutter. In college, when my friends were going to homecoming games, I could be found at farm auctions, looking for just the right crosscut, buck, and bow saws. My idea of retirement is having enough time on my hands to retire the chainsaw with its noisy tooth rattling vibration, and stifling exhaust. I’d like to watch my woodpile grow slowly and smell the sweetness of hand-cut wood in my old age. In my mind, the perfect Christmas gift is a finely balanced splitting maul and a good pair of work gloves.

Making wood is a great way to spend time with kids and teach them about life. It’s both fun and satisfying to work side-by-side with someone toward a common goal. The value of working hard, accomplishing a small task and repeating it until the job is finished was taught to me while watching a woodpile grow. I don’t know of any studies to support the notion, but I suspect that very few people who get into serious trouble have spent much time in a woodlot.

Some folks are particular about the wood they burn, preferring a homogenous woodpile. I like a mix of woods for the variety of scents they leave behind. Wood smoke is like a perfume to me and I appreciate a multiplicity of bouquets.

Red and white oak is a standard choice that produces an even foundation of aroma that I don’t easily tire of. Ash has a particularly rich tang that I enjoy in small doses. I love the pungent fragrance of birch burning on still, moonlit winter nights, and although I’ve never found any in Minnesota, the smoke from burning hickory has a way of taking me back to my youth and makes me nostalgic. Even softwoods that are often passed over by others will find a welcomed place in my woodpile. I treasure white cedar burnt on soft, gray autumn days, and save my meager supply of it for special occasions. Willow, while low in BTU’s, produces a fragrant, sweet aroma that reminds me of the warming fires we made while playing hockey as a kid. A whiff of spruce crackling away takes me back to the bonfires I’ve shared with friends, and all the shore lunches I’ve made.

Perhaps my fondness for wood smoke is why I prefer our ancient pot-bellied stove to the newer more efficient models on the market; it leaks a rich and complex aroma that permeates everything in our workspace. Nearly everyone that visits the studio comments about how pleasant it smells. Even our dog, which spends an inordinate amount of time lying on the floor there, smells good.

I believe that how a woodpile is constructed reveals a lot about a person’s character. While there are many ways to go about it, properly stacked piles of wood have several things in common; the wood is raised off of the ground, it’s put up in such a way as to make its deconstruction convenient and efficient, and it’s protected from the weather. There are any number of contrivances for holding up a wall of wood; wood wracks, steel fence posts, standing trees, expensive sheds, etc., but the experienced wood cutter has mastered the art of constructing the self standing wood pile. This is done with the skill of a master stonemason, by alternating the direction of the cordwood on the ends and leaning the pile back on itself ever so slightly.

Good kindling is a valued commodity in every wood-burner’s life, for even seasoned wood that’s been properly stored needs to be started somehow. Last summer I rebuilt the back porch on our old home, and in the process removed three layers of shingles. The original roof was made from first growth white cedar, so finely cut and seasoned that I can light a piece of it with just one match. Though I have no way to substantiate it, I’d like to believe that the trees came from the valley where we live, and were milled in our little village. What a find! There’s a peculiar essence to first growth white cedar, and I’ve decided that it smells of time.

Even something as simple as wooden matches takes on special meaning to someone who burns wood, and I have my preferences. Ohio Blue Tips are my favorite brand, and I’ll buy as many boxes of them as I can whenever I find them.

Not all the wood we make goes into the studio’s stove. Now that autumn has finally arrived and the nights are growing cooler it will be time to blend the rich scent of wood smoke with crackling cold nights, the sparkling of stars, and a haloed moon. Perhaps we’ll have a bon fire tonight.

As our five-year-old daughter, Tommy, stares into the flames tonight I’ll ask her, “Have you ever thought about what you’re watching when you look at a fire?” And then, as it’s become a habit to answer my own questions, I’ll begin to tell her.

Lone Oak and Be There


This picture is titled "Lone Oak" don't end up like this oak.

"What's A Boy To Do"


I'm sure that I'm moving to St Louis
Three long years wondering here in New York City
I guess I'm looking for the right way to do this
I guess I'm looking for the right things to call pretty
Young boys playing in the park turning their backs to take a shot
You know I'll stay sharp around here 'cause they're stoning and leaving type
It's the kind of love that comes and goes when there's company coming around

What's a boy to do who knows no man now?
What's a boy to do who knows no man now?

Daddy's been looking down his nose at all of them
And I've been looking round for someone to tell me who I am
He kept saying I was to young to finish a fight
I'd die each time they came I never got to draw my knife
Well it was just a pair of shoes in a middle school room with the world watching in
And angel is crying I'm dying just a little inside as they ran away
Funny which words stick around 20 years down when you're driving alone

What's a boy to do when there's no man at home?
What's a boy to do when there's no man at home?

The words of this song have haunted me for over a month now. I wish I understood what causes a man to wound his son. It has happened to so many men I know; whether it was being left at a dance, being hit in the face, yelled at in front of your friends or maybe dad wasn't there emotional when you need him. We need to take a stand and fight for our boy’s attention, beat out the all of the screens in their lives. Take them hunting or fishing, teach them how to cut wood or build a fence, or God forgive me for saying this "play golf" (hate golf always will but if I can connect with my boy there I will do it). I have a son who loves skateboarding so we went to skateboarding camp, great fun. We are not going to be perfect fathers but we need to be there for our boys and most importantly teach them they have a heavenly Father who loves them and will never forsake them. If we are successful at that one point, we will be a good dad. Our boys will never feel abandon even when we screw up and aren’t there for them. That is it I am off to get everyone in the rack.


Thursday, October 2, 2008

Crazy World and Practical Knowledge

Picture of Peace: My son looking over the country side.

No fishing report: Bummer! But that will change hopefully this weekend. Weather is turned colder this week the bite should be on big time.

The world seems to be out of control! Bail Outs. Suicide. Cancer. Job Changes. Out of Control Kids and Adults. The world seems to be getting more like the ruler of this place and less like the Creator of this place. I won’t comment on any of the above but I will say that SIN is bad and it has long term affects. The Word says that Satan is the ruler of this fair place we call home and we need to remember that. The Creator God Himself is in control of this world but right now Satan has permission to run around and do what God allows. Be on guard and fight the good fight. A professor I had used to say “don’t be faintified” which is a southern Mississippi quote of Galatians 6:9-10 9And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. 10As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith. Take that to heart and watch out and care for those that are your “family”, remember your “family” will be those that we are in Heaven with, that is not to say you should not love on your biological family but for eternity we will be with those around us on Sunday morning. The old saying of “Blood is thicker than Water” in my mind is as far from the truth as east is from the west. I believe that the “my blood” will fail me because they are human. But the “water”, the identity I have in Christ and share with others that have been baptized into Christ will last for eternity.


FireProof is a great movie. Go see it. There is nothing else to say but “Do the Love Dare”

Nathan this is for you. Everyone should go to this link and read.

http://www.spurgeon.org/misc/plowman.htm

Have a great day this weekend is Hunter’s Ed for me and the kids.