The children went over to our neighbor whom I had called and asked if we could trade an apple pie for some of their old cornstalks, which we would like for decorating.
He gladly loaded the children's arms with these lovely cornstalks, still a little green!
The children had been cleaning up all over the property days ahead of time.
And then the afternoon before had gone somewhat awry with having to run errands for Jonathan in town, and arriving home with the addition of four pumpkins from the vegetable stand in town,
and minus any energy--but still having to put supper on and get through the evening.
It was one of those moments when this hayride was not looking very feasible as usual,
when the ranch mom said in no uncertain terms, "This is just going to
have to be the last time we do this!!!!!"
That was before another mom asked if she could send a boy from a broken
home, whom she's been caring for, out to the "farm" for overnight and a
day to be with Timmy and keep up that connection. 
And the dad of the dude ranch, and his wife, talked it over,
and they knew--it was just the thing to do.
And she should know by now, she should know, she should know, that when she is overwhelmed momentarily and thinks she can't do something--there is probably a very good reason to just go ahead and do it.
Because there are lives to touch, and those lives don't really care if your house is spotless, or if there is dust everywhere it ought not to be, and your carpet hasn't been shampooed forever because it's no use with all the dirty feet and shoes that tramp in daily.
A life like that doesn't worry if you spent a bunch of money to spruce up your autumn decor,
or if you just find ways to decorate with the free apples and garden harvest you already have.
Little boys whose mothers have been on drugs, leave them to wander the streets, and don't even feed them aren't going to mind if that bow on the basket handle isn't quite perfectly positioned by one of the four girls in the house.
And yes, before that kid leaves, he'll haul off and sock your son a good one in a bit of a rage for your son's over-stepping himself with an action that didn't get taken as playful. And after you referree, you think it probably was good for your son anyway.
And so you let the boys have it out and learn their boundaries with each other.
But other than that, the boy does seem to have sensed a haven of safety and care as you gather round the table and try to make him feel at home by asking him questions and sharing bits of news and reading a funny story, and asking him to give the thanks for the daily bread.
As we gather for worship, sing, read a devotional, and get ready for prayer, he shares prayer requests from his life--a boy from his school whose equipment malfunctioned while rappeling, and which didn't catch him till he was hundreds of feet below, snapping his back in the process. We share our requests. And the little boy whose life is a patchwork of pain and relief, prays not only for his requests, but for ours, too.
Lives like that probably think that the life we live is pie in the sky.
Where the dude ranch dad and his little wife kiss each other every morning before he leaves for work-- kiss again in the evening when he comes home--
and that has happened almost every day for the last 20 years-
regardless of the constant grind of work--
his out of the home, hers in the home.
Where the dude ranch dad kisses each of the kids, too, before he leaves each day, but stops short of the big little boy who is visiting who declares," He's not kissing me!"
(While his little heart couldn't help yearning for it.)
And the children work out in the sunshine, scattering feed to the chickens, filling water buckets and trough for goats, steers, dogs, and chickens, and feed the apple garbage to the pigs.
A home where you don't have to worry about where your next bite of food is coming from--or if your extended relatives where you happen to be the rather unwelcome half-brother, will only let you have one serving of food at Thanksgiving, while there is no limit for the whole brothers and sisters.
A home where the dude ranch dad and the little-bit-of-a-mess wife let their aspiring entrepreneur eleven-year-old
buy bunnies to try to raise baby bunnies--
'cause this ranch out here has always been chock full of babies!
And there are several bunnies, now, enough that all the little children who came early to the hayride could have a chance to pet and cuddle.
Children who live in the city and don't know what a steer is, and think it is weird that chickens lay eggs every day, and wonder if what is growing out in your pasture is "natural hay," find it very interesting to come to this dude ranch and pet bunnies, see chickens of every size, shape, and age, and watch horned steers gallop about the pasture wondering what on earth is going on today.
They get to chase pigs and stare at the goats, and their dads reminisce to days when they lived on a farm and even milked goats, too.
And a mom from Kazakstan, who is Carrie's violin teacher, and who has three young children, and who has heard her sister talk about the joy of riding through the pines on bales of hay, singing,
says, "Thank you for doing this!" before it even starts.
And the mom who couldn't do it, is in the middle of doing it--
because when you think you can't do it anymore,
that is the time to just go ahead and do it anyway.
Because if all we ever did was what we could do only in our own strength,
what would it mean to rely upon God?
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