why we wait

We've been waiting since mid-January on this house. It's a very on-again-off-again proposition. We were told yesterday that we should be expecting a letter of approval from the bank. We're still waiting. Still hopeful (I've packed up all my paints, brushes and waxes, for goodness sake). I've heard of short sales taking much longer, so I am thankful.

It makes me wonder why God makes us wait. 

I'm learning a lot about waiting. 

I think that sometimes God uses the wait to increase our desire for the item for which we wait.

He's done that here for sure. Some of our doubts and concerns fade away as we wait and focus our eyes on Jesus. We become more sure of the path we should take. More reliant on His strength, rather than our "self-sufficiency". More thankful for His provision. 

And the praise is magnified when His wait becomes a yes!

And oh, the day we get a closing date--you may be able to hear my shouts of joy across four time zones on that day!

 

counting chickens before they've hatched

Well, I've counted those eggs and counted them again, and still our house purchase seems tenuous, at best. We're working with a short sale and it's no easy task. We think we have a deal with the bank, we wait three weeks only to hear they still don't like the offer (even though it was one of the counter-offers they gave to us). So, we finally told them no and looked at two other houses that, let's just say, weren't for us. Our realtor calls just to double check, have we changed our mind about the house. No, we have not. Then he calls again and we have a new offer on the table that looks as good as chicken pot pie! And I start counting again. One. How will we arrange the land? Two. Where will we put the barn? Three. What color should we paint the girl's room? Four. Should I try a new location for the fridge? Five. When do I get to strip the wall paper in the bath room? Six. What will I do with the dark wood paneling in the bonus room? 

Still, hatched chicken or no, we know we are in our Father's hand. He feeds the birds of the air and clothes the lilies of the field. He is our Jehovah-jireh, Jehovah-raah, Jehovah-nissi. My provider, my shepherd, my victory! And while I wait to see if one of these eggs will produce a chicken, I wait with expectation, hands lifted up toward the Lord's throne! (Exodus 17:9-16)

thoughts on farmhouses

With the impending purchase of a new-to-us house I've been doing a lot of thinking (and pinning) about vision and purpose. I desire authenticity. I want to be truly genuine to the identity of the house and that of our family. 

While I do adore the newness, cleanliness, "level-and-plumb-ness" of a newly constructed house, I have this deep desire for the authentic, hard-working, and worn charm of a century home. The kind where you make due with the inherited design choices of someone long ago, live with imperfections, and celebrate history. Where you have to get up and move the kitchen table out of the way of the cellar door when you hear grandpa coming in from the barn and his heavy footfall on the steps. The kind of house where you need ingenuity, creativity, and adaptability to make it lovely and functional. The place where "then" collides with "now" and mix together to make our own unique "someday."

I promised myself that if I ever got the chance to own a farmhouse I'd live in it before I made any changes. I've only been in this house twice and I'm a bit nervous. I can't wait to get to know it and us in it. With all of it's imperfections and awkwardness and beauty, we should make a great pair. 

 

new-to-us farmhouse, foster babies, and a coffee table

Nearly four years ago, two city kids sold their suburban dream and rented an 1870 farm house smack in the center of corn fields, just down the road from the middle of nowhere. They bought some lumber and drew out plans for a chicken coup and with the help of their God-fearing-farmer-turned-pastor, they raised up 100 chicks... a new dream was born.

And so our little experiment is coming to an end as we set out to buy our very own farm house, still in the middle of nowhere and just as old. 

We've also welcomed and then said good-bye to our first foster baby. We miss her but know God hears our prayers for her and her mom. He is their shelter and their hiding place, their defender!

In between the crazy, my daughter refinished another stunning piece! I've not had the time to work on my stash. She buys up my pieces and finishes them before I can. I fight the urge to sneak downstairs at night when she's alseep and do a little sanding or waxing when she's not looking! I do my best thinking and process life's events when refinishing furniture, a paint brush in my hand. But it's hard to get much of that done when you fall into bed exhausted at the end of the day! Even so, I wouldn't have it any other way!

I had fun pushing aside the boxes to stage the porch for some pics. It can look cute one last time before we move, right? Packing up everything you own into cardboard boxes is no fun, but it will be worth the work to settle in a place that is our own again. I can't wait to show you the inside of the house! 

 

The top drops down for a slim fit in tight spaces and opens when you need extra table space.

The legs are finished in ASCP Cream, lightly distressed and waxed with Annie Sloan clear wax. The top stained in a rich, warm walnut. Also waxed for extra durability and the perfect sheen.

Contact me at ruthsfarmandfurniture@gmail.com with questions and to check  availability.

sewing-turned-side table

This sweet little sewing table got a makeover with Annie Sloan Chalk Paint in Provence, light distressing, and then hand waxed to a soft, subtle sheen.

Provence is a clear and energetic shade of turquoise excellent for a space that needs a shot of color!

Light distressing brings out the details. Piece has original hardware.

Table measures 31" high x 18" deep x 23" wide and is finished front, back and both sides.

The bottom door hides the original storage tray.

And the top opens to reveal the space where the machine was stored.

farmhouse frugal laundry soap

This humble farmhouse we call home has a true-blue farmhouse laundry room. I particularly like the juxtaposition of the modern appliances and the chippy window trim framing those glorious farm field views. Does it need a new coat of paint? Yep. Flooring? Yep, needs that too.

In November I stopped putting it off and made my own laundry soap. I used this recipe for the extra hard water and iron deposits in our water. It cost me around $20 dollars and I found everything I needed at our local grocery store. I do use it in our HE front loader directly in the tray... but do your research first on your particular washer before doing the same.

I made a second batch to give as gifts. One quart mason jar will finish approximately 35 loads of laundry. 

My plan was to tie on an antique silver plated spoon with some clever saying stamped onto the bowl or handle of the spoon, but I just ran out of time. I figured a large soup spoon size would be about 1 tablespoon and perfect for measuring out the soap. I found a stash of mismatched silver at a local antique store and been looking for an excuse to get back there and dig through the bins. Next time!

I glued the standard two-piece mason jar lids together and painted them with ASCP Provence and finished with a bit of clear and dark wax.

*Update: I made the first batch of detergent in November.

It lasted a family of 6-7 approximately 6 months.

All of life is a season; a time for everything.  

There is a time to hang your laundry on the line, eat fresh tomatoes, and watch the leaves turn to warmer shades and the skies to clear, cool blues and greys. 

Our families run in seasons too. A time to let your parents slip into eternity before you, for newly weds to focus on the newness of marriage, and to welcome a new little one into your home.

My little hobby farm and furniture blog has its own cycle of seasons. Times when I can give it the attention I would a new born baby. And times when it has to sit on a shelf remembering when it was my favorite, like a floppy stuffed bunny wearing worn velvet and missing one eye.

But, there is redemption and renewal. Maybe even so for a fledgeling little blog like mine.

So, as we welcome a new foster baby into our life, know that we still tend our little farm. But blogging and furniture restoration will have to wait for another season when I can take it off the shelf and love it back to life.