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The Churning of Patience

The entrance to the old porch consisted of a beautiful old door with a special little diamond window. My height was gauged by this window ~ getting closer to peeking through the glass without having to stand on my tip toes, was evidence I was growing!

Looking through the eyes of a child I did not comprehend that all the nicks, scrapes, dents, and stains, where what made up the old doors beautiful character. Looking back I now realize it was an entrance to many wonderful childhood memories!

That door is now hinged to my heart ~ an entrance to my special haven, brimming with treasured chronicles relating to my childhood! Every corner of my heart owns an impression of my grandparents love! I opened that door today with my eyes closed and my soul open to possibilities! My heart chose the wonderful taste of homemade churned butter, and the lesson on patience.

After my dear grandpa fell ill to the dreadful disease cancer, my cousin and I had taken over the chore of milking. The down sizing to the Holstein and Jersey seemed just fine for me however, it was another sign of the demon that was overtaking my grandpa and his farm!

Milk from the Jersey had the richest cream, I recall grandma showing me the art of skimming the rich gold off the top of the milk. I remember thinking that maybe today is the day I would be asked to retrieve the old wooden butter box from the cupboard! I loved how the yellow butter would turn into this perfectly formed rectangle, imprinted with lines like fresh hoed rows in the garden! Making butter with grandma and the old churn was an eagerly anticipated event in my childhood!

I can now appreciate the lesson learned from this event. Grandma would remind me that being able to achieve the result which was: the spreading of delicious churned butter on homemade bread (fresh out of the old wood cookstove), I would have to demonstrate attributes of commitment, perseverance, determination, and above all PATIENCE!

I felt I did quite well ~ although my arms ached, and just about when I was ready to allow a tear to silently roll down my cheek, it was then my grandma would come and gently do the last few turns.

With every “churn” of homemade butter I would increase the strength in my arms. My patience seemed to have grown along with my height, and I had gained a lot more respect for the skill of making butter!

I am drawn to the scripture: Hebrews 10:36 – For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise. 

If we learn to pray the prayer of patience and seek His will, it is then we inherit all God’s wonderful promises!

Both my grandma and grandpa have now crossed over Jordan, but behind the old wooden door hinged to my heart ~ lies an inscription of unconditional love, the wealth of lessons that helped mold my young life, and inspiration to always seek the Lord and His strength.

Truly blessed!

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