Into the Storm and through the storm

Into the Storm, a movie about Winston and Clementine Churchill during and after WWII, was a recent assignment from Ginger.

These quotes by Winston Churchill struck me:

Let us move steadfastly together into the storm and through the storm.

This is one of those moments when [one] can draw from the heart of misfortune the vital impulses of victory.

Never maltreat the enemy by halves.

KBO- Keep buggering on


What stands out to me from the movie is that Churchill was the right man to lead Britain during World War II.  He inspired.  He demanded.  He made impossible choices.  He lead his people to victory.

Churchill was also the wrong man to lead Britain into peace after the war.  The very strengths which made him the perfect leader for war made him a lousy one for peace.  The people recognized that and promptly voted him out of office.  Churchill was heart-broken and yet acknowledged that people's freedom to choose not to follow him was the heart of what he had fought for and so he stepped down gracefully.

I've been reflecting on my own life. 

What has inspired me and lead me through my years of war which I now need to stop following in peace? 

What things ensured my survival but now ought to be voted out of office so I can grow happy? 

And rather than viewing this succession as a failure to follow the right leader from the beginning, how can I acknowledge that the freedom to choose life and flexibility and quiet of soul was the very thing I've fought for so unrelentingly and rigidly all these years.  The people of Britain cheered and applauded Churchill as the man who saved Britain just after voting him resoundingly from office.  How can my gratitude to and refusal to continue following my old ways simultaneously be true?

What works in war fails us in peace.

For two years I've been wondering how does a soldier return home to the farm after the war? 

I hadn't thought of this blog for a while and when I just now reread it, I see that quite literally, I am the soldier who returns to the farm, much more literally than I ever expected.  How exquisitely perfect that the analogy Joe gave me two years should literally come true.  I'm writing this update from a farm.  Or what will be a farm by someone who is becoming a farmer.

Wow, that's... wow.

How does a soldier truly return home after her war? 
Apparently, I reclaim my place as a nurturer of life and become a farmer.
I thought Joe was making an analogy when he was really giving me a sneak peek at my upcoming job title.

After hearing the 'soldier returning to the farm' analogy, I have prayed for years for God to show me how to come home, how to unclench my life from the sword.  Never in my wildest imaginings, which as you know can be very wild, never did I imagine that when I asked "How does the soldier go home? How does the soldier become a farmer?" that I would literally be lead to a new home and become a farmer.  Never even connected the two ideas until minutes ago.

I'm swimming around here, repeating myself, with my mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a guppy because I've come to expect surprises from my wild God but this is crazy even for God. 

After living here 7 weeks, I have to say that I am ridiculously happy.  I wake up in the night terrified sometimes but then I also wake up in the night grateful and full of plans, too.  And sometimes, I sleep right through.  I sit and do yoga as the sun comes in filtered through the trees outside my bedroom window.  We had a bunch of neighbors over for a party and I about cried watching them all roast smores and chat.  Couldn't go to bed for hours until I came down after 4H last night.

Now granted, I'm not living all sunshine and roses.  My dishwasher is dead and I hate ticks and there are some small rodents which regularly stroll back and forth above my bed between the roof and ceiling which I need to find a way to eliminate.  I'm getting bored with my Chinese medicine cold-damp diet and my Achilles tendon is still crabby.  Tim's gone more than I'd like and the kids bicker and aren't any more excited about taking out the trash here than in Minneapolis- what a shocker. 

I began this year with a desire to reinvent myself. 
My theme for this year is "Strong and satisfied enough for joy."
Most themes take years to mature.  Well, perhaps better said, most themes take years of me pressing into them for me to mature enough to comprehend them much at all.

I've been cultivating gratitude while still a leper, through illness and pain, through disappointments, frustrations, and generally not getting what I want.  Feels like forever I've been working diligently to muster even a single sincere gratitude.  In my mind, like 50 units of effort for one inch of gain.  I was working so hard cultivating thankfulness that I had to blog about it so that I would spend the time focusing on it long enough to see what to be grateful for.

And wham- I wake up in a dome house, stronger, more satisfied, 65 pounds lighter, reinvented.  And grateful. 

Whatever else I may not have for harvest yet on this fledgling farm, I do have gratitude.  By the bucketful.  I'm putting in like 1 unit of effort and getting 50 gratitudes.  So many I find myself weeping.

How does the soldier go home to the farm?
Happily and literally.

How does the soldier become a farmer?
Unexpectedly and gratefully, apparently.

I never expected to live to see my joy renewed.
I never expected to make it through the storm.

And yet, here I am.
You've got to come and see this for yourself.
No, more importantly, I hope you get to experience this for yourself in your own life.