BATTER BATTER BATTER!!

I love the sound of that droning chant, a chant that doesn't have to be taught. The chant is somehow instantaneously programmed into the mind of a 4 year old the second he scuffles his cleats through the crushed red brick and slips into position on the freshly mowed grass in left field. I love the smell of the popcorn wafting from the concession stand and the unforgettable aroma of grape BubbleYum.

Yesterday was the day!

Carson's first practice. He has been anticipating the day for weeks. We have been having batting practice in the yard and he has been keeping the old man hopping. I had to change the direction of his hitting as he is capable of hitting it just far enough to go down the hill, driveway, across the road and almost dropping 50 feet into the creek. He now drives the ball up the hill toward the woods, where it conveniently dribbles back down the hill toward my feet.

His excitement was not in control. He practically ran from us as soon as he saw the familiar faces of his teammates. The coach placed him in left field with strict instructions to stay put. We all know how that goes. At the crack( or in the case now days..the "ping") of the bat, the ball rolls through several legs and ends up against the right field fence. Who was there first? Yep, all the way from left field. Every batted ball sent him into motion, diving, rolling, bumping.

Then came time to step up to the plate. He picked up his bat, headgear and took his stance staring down the pitcher. He looked exactly like "Chicken Little" trying to balance that over-sized red batting helmet. He connected with his second pitch and I don't know who's smile was the greatest, his or mine or Sharla's. He rounded the bases, leaving a trail of dust!

The most memorable part of the day happened a few minutes before we left the house. He looked up at Sharla and told her " I don't want to sit in that dumpster!" We fought to keep straight faces and it was hard. Sharla kindly corrected him with" no honey, it's not a
dumpster, it's called a dugout".

Swing batter!

FAMILIARITY

Familiarity.
The word simply means a state of close relationship or a close acquaintance with something.
Sometimes we become so familiar or comfortable with something or someone that we take it for granted.

We find that objects in our surroundings have become so commonplace that we seldom recognize that they are missing or it takes us a long time to do so.

I was familiar with my hair until the age of 18. I have been without it so long now that I forget what it was like; until the Summer sun turns my naked pate an unsightly shade of red and the inevitable peeling begins a week later. When I say that I am bald, Carson quickly corrects me, adding that I have hair, just on the sides.

We can become so familiar with the people around us that we often feel we know what they are thinking and the actions they are about to carry out. We build relationships based on these feelings and it brings us closer in our marriages, jobs and friendships. It is just when we become too familiar that we often overlook the big scheme of things and plod along, doing things in a repetitive motion, falling into a rut.

Can we be guilty of this in our prayer life as well?

How about our worship?

Do we sing praise, or do we just sing a song?

Can 'church' become so familiar that we lose focus?

We need to take a survey introspectively and ask ourselves a few questions and then answer them honestly.( you make up the questions because only you know the answers)

MOVING SLOW..LIKE A TURTLE

Terrapene Carolina.(Eastern Box Turtle)

Ok…we finally did it! We have had this plan in the back of our heads for about five years and it recently moved to the forefront. After a lot of misgivings about having passed the opportunity by on three occasions, we are jumping feet-first into a new, ardous and hopefully rewarding business/passion venture. Our house sold this week and we cashed in the 401K and the moving van is scheduled for Friday morning. Enough of the schooling, working for the ‘Man’ and living paycheck to paycheck. We are trading in a life of daily toil and strife to return to the land and reap the lifestyle only it can bestow.
Our venture begins with the move to Watauga County Tennessee in the eastern part of the state. We found the ideal opportunity to own our own nature preserve, where we will be actively involved in the breeding, hatching, raising and the eventual release into the wild of the threatened Eastern Box Turtle. The preserve is comprised of 500 acres of prime unspoiled turtle habitat. Second growth forest surrounded by a buffer zone of no development only adds to the beauty of the preserve. We are taking over an existing facility that has fallen into disrepair. No too far gone that it can’t be rebuilt with a little effort. We will have to live in an old mill house on the property until we can build our cabin.
That will be secondary, as we will be there primarily to start the restoration of the breeding facility. The turtle population in the area is still at a level that is stable and not in decline, so we will have a slight head start in that aspect. While the Eastern Box Turtle lives an average of 40 years, some have known to live to 100.
Our goal for the next 20 years is to raise and release 5000 breeding pairs back into the woodlands of surrounding states and to educate the public on how to help the population survive.
The days will be long and hard, but I’m sure the rewards will be great.
We will try to keep in touch frequently, but the 18 mile trip to town to use a computer at the local library will not happen that often.
You can reach us by mail at:
Turtle Back Farm
No. 1 April Fool's Dr.
Watauga, TN. 04-01-2008