It's My Diary

I kept having this nagging feeling that I should do something. 

It went on for a year or so. I wanted to start this blog. But I wasn't very confident in it. I wasn't understanding why that feeling was tugging at me.

I am not really that person that puts things on the Internet that I don't want people to know. I don't air my dirty laundry on Facebook. I don't like to post vague status updates for attention. When I post on Facebook it is either a lengthy soap box edition or something that absolutely nobody thinks about the next day...or the next second.

I told my friends about this blog idea and they were, of course, encouraging. I have really good friends, y'all. They are awesome. They listen to that nonsense that I don't post on Facebook. They always tell me what they really think...even when it isn't what I want to hear. But on this topic they encouraged me to just start the dang blog already. I wanted it, God was working on me about it, and my girlfriends were helping. Mrs. Fancy Pants even volunteered to proof my posts...for free...because she's awesome....and because I don't get paid. But mostly because she's awesome. (...in case you forgot how awesome you are...consider yourself reminded.)

So I did it. 

I did it thinking I would write about farming. I am incredibly passionate about agriculture. About consumers and farmers finding somewhere to share methods, fears, and truths. We need to find a place where we can cut out the fear mongers and the falsehoods....just cut the crap and be able to talk without it being political or slanted. Back to when consumers and farmers had respect and trust in each other before someone trying to make an extra buck or two spread some nonsense and started a war between people that produce and people that eat. 

I could really go on a rant here, but I've locked away my soap box because this post isn't about just agriculture.

I thought this blog was going to be about my agriculture passions. 

And if you've read any of my posts....it isn't.

I am a dairy farmer's wife. The Milkman and I put all we have into our farm. Into producing milk. Into being a part of feeding our nation and the world. Obviously we are proud of it. Even though I didn't realize it at the time....the name "DIARY of a Dairy Wife" is quite fitting.

My little place here on the Internet isn't all about the farming. It is about our lives. About my thoughts and fears and beliefs and passions. I have poured my faith into this blog. I have talked about our farm, and the state of the world, and my values, and how I see things.

I have struggled. Sometimes that is why I don't have a post. I haven't been doing this long enough to really build a nest egg of posts. I don't have one ready to publish on the weeks I'm busy or have writer's block. Quite frankly...I don't do any of this like the pros would tell you to. I'm wordy and lengthy, and inconsistent. But, hey, I'm here...sometimes it's the showing up that counts.

I want you, my readers, to see things from my perspective. To feel what I'm feeling. To have an idea of what I am going through as I am going through it. Because this is my diary.

My most emotional post was the one I wrote when our barn burnt. It was very hard to write. It took me several days and lots of writing and deleting to get it out. It was a very difficult time. Not all these posts will have that amount of emotion.  I won't be able to reach every reader every time, but I hope that y'all will stick this out with me. I want to do something good with this little adventure.

I don't know why I named this blog "Diary of a Diary Wife," and I still wonder what in the world I am doing. And if anything I write even matters. I wonder if anyone is really reading it or if my friends are continually visiting the website to make me feel better about the numbers. (Y'all just keep that up if that's the case...) But I know God was working on me to start it...so this is me showing my faith with a blog. Seems like a strange way to show faith.

I'm going to continue believing that my blog will touch someone's life. Because sometimes we don't know why we do what we do, but God does. There is purpose in the things we do. And most of the time those things we do on faith are the ones that pay off the biggest.

I still haven't seen the true purpose for me putting this "diary" out for everyone to read (I pretty much ask why? every day), but there is one. I'm enjoying myself, if nothing else. 

Do what you are led to do knowing there is a purpose...even if you can't figure out what it is. What we don't know God does and it's important to show some faith. Even if it's by doing something that seems insignificant or silly. 

Just do it already! If I can fumble through this....you can do anything.

Thank y'all for taking this journey with me!

P.S. If y'all haven't already found me on Facebook there's a page under Diary of a Dairy Wife. I'd love to see your feedback or have you share the blog. Or you can just "like" it. Boost my ego a bit. Yeah...I'm human.

September 11

Hey y'all! Remember me!?! I haven't forgotten you. You know those times where everything is going exactly the way you planned it and life is going smoothly and you are keeping the house clean and everyone is going to bed on time and your getting blog posts out and life is just perfect? 
Me either.

August 16 was my last blog post. That's been almost a month. Would you like to know why it has taken me a month to write another post? Me too. In that month we started back to school, had the county fair (if you don't know what that means to a parent with show kids I will explain later), The Milkman had knee surgery (that is a whole post in itself), and quite frankly the world appears to be burning. 

I have thought about blog posts almost every single day, but with everything going on in the world and in my little world my brain has been like a tornado. Some people have nice, neat file cabinet style brains. They can keep thoughts organized and in order. They can form one thought without seven more equally as important thoughts taking over. I am not one of those people. My brain is trying to keep focused on how to get through daily life and all of a sudden, out of nowhere 14,000 other thoughts sneak attack and it starts a full on war in my head. 

I prefer coherent blog posts....so I chose to wait until I was alone and it was quiet so that I could focus. I also chose to wait until I could hear God. Because when I can't sort my thoughts and the storm is raging....my God can calm the waters. The problem is usually me, and I feed the storm instead of listening to that calming voice. 

So here I am. I think I can put words to one of the elements in my storm.


Today is September 11, 2014. It has been 13 years. 

This day is one of those days where you put into perspective how very blessed you are. I didn't lose anyone close to me in New York 13 years ago. But that doesn't change the helplessness, the lost feeling, the sadness, the sickness, that comes with knowing what happened on our soil. I didn't know anyone that rushed in to save innocent lives, that survived, that made snap decisions that made all the difference. But that doesn't change the gratefulness, the pride, the patriotism that I feel when I think about those who spent seconds, minutes, and years making differences all over the world. 

In 2001 each person alive in the United States was changed. That horrific tragedy changed our lives and the lives of each American to come. 

We became aware of a war on the "infidel" that we didn't really know existed. We saw evil that we just shielded our eyes from because that was easier than knowing what was going on in those other countries. We saw evil that we didn't believe existed because we live in an American bubble. We didn't have to read the Bible or a newspaper or a history book to know the unrest because the unrest came to us. The war crossed our boundaries and it took innocent lives that were ours. And it was then that we didn't have a choice but to put faces and feelings with that evil. 

If you ask a Christian they will tell you that we are seeing the end of times. Jesus is coming soon and you better be ready. I won't argue that. The end days aren't going to be pretty or peaceful. People have been calling it the end of days since Bible times. Each generation dies seeing the world worse than it was...no matter how much better we try to make it. We cannot escape what has been laid out. Some call it fate and some call it destiny. Some people don't believe in any of it. I have a few friends who will take the Jesus part out of this blog because that part doesn't apply to their lives. And that's ok...because I have been told that it's my job to share my God, not to shove Him down everyone's throat. I am to spread the gospel and pray for folks, not tell them they are doomed for hell. Because, hey, I don't know their hearts. That's above my pay grade. I have a part to play...I'm playing it. God's got the rest. In Milkmaid #2's words "He can do it awww by hisself!"  (That was all free...no charge...it doesn't necessarily apply to the theme either. You are welcome.) If I hashtagged things this one would read #canyoutellimapreachersdaughter.

September 11 changed our perspective. We turned to God, church, government, friends, family, the Bible, anywhere that we thought we might find some answers and some peace. People that had no interest in news, tuned in. People without emotion, cried. People that had no desire to serve our country, walked into an office and signed their names on the dotted line to serve. We sacrificed in the days after 9/11 like we didn't know that we could. Prayers went up. Churches filled. We learned hard lessons. We gained a renewed respect for service men and women.

Here I am going to shift gears. Not only was my daddy a preacher, but he is also a fireman. He was a volunteer fireman for many years and for a few years now he has held a staff position at our local fire department. I have grown up around firemen, paramedics, and all kind of first responders. These guys (and girls) hold a special place in my heart. The guys that put their lives on the line. The first ones into a bad situation. The people that respond to terrible tragedies. These people see horrible things that you can't imagine. And on 9/11 lots of those first responders and police officers made the ultimate sacrifice trying to save anyone they could. They don't make a judgment call of who deserves to be saved...they just go in and rescue whoever they can. Don't forget to thank the people that rush into the fire and the people that respond to bad situations. Our firemen and police officers in every little town are heroes....even if we don't realize it. And for them...it's just what they do. Nothing more and nothing less. I am thankful for our public servants. 

Anyone that chooses to put their life on the line for my safety and my life is a hero. Our military men and women do a job that I wouldn't even think about signing up for, our firemen, police, and first responders, anyone that volunteers to rush into the front lines. That list is short and incomplete. I'm gonna add one more to it. Jesus. Yep. Jesus. He gave His life so that when mine here is over I can spend my eternity in a peace that I haven't known on this Earth. In the times after 9/11 He brought peace and love in response to something ugly. He gave hope where hope couldn't be found. 

When you turn on your TV or your computer you aren't greeted with happy news and feel good stories. We are bombarded with hate and ugliness. We are being threatened all the time with evil and war. People are being slaughtered for what they believe. Some people's version of hell is played for them on a screen. The end times are coming...I may not see them and my grandkids may not see them, but they are coming. And it is ugly, but I'm not terrified. I am disgusted, but not broken. It has already been laid out. The victory will not be for a country or for a religion or for a few good people. The victory is The Lord's. The good will win over evil. There is not a single part of me that doesn't believe it. My God responds. My God will prevail. 

September 11, 2001 changed everything. It marked our country and our hearts. We became thankful for what we have. Thankful for those that stand up for us, for those that respond to horrific scenes, for those that make difficult decisions to defend us, for our lives. That day showed a strong nation that the evil was coming for it. And our strong nation stood together without irrelevant divisions and told the evil that it may come, but it wouldn't win. Our nation came together and many came to God that hadn't turned to Him in a long time. 

I remember that I was 18 years old. It was my first semester at college and I spent that 45 minutes of driving time rushing through traffic, blaring a new CD, not a care in the world. Until I walked into school and there were crowds gathered around the TVs. Tears and confusion. Sadness. And that whole day was spent watching news reports and terrible footage. And God was there. He was present and if you know Him, you felt Him. He was in every school and every office. He was in all the places we try to keep Him out of. He was there. He is still there. He never left....but our hearts have hardened from that open wound of 9/11. We haven't forgotten, but we have become callous to the evil and hate and we forgot that we need God. 

I have news...and it's better than whatever is on TV....We need God because without him...the evil wins.  The world is burning and Jesus is my first responder. 

That deserves a bumper sticker....