Tag: family

Faithful with Little

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

Towards the end of June we came home from our family vacation to see our blueberry bushes bursting with gorgeous blue fruit. While we were gone it rained considerably (we definitely needed it) so the berries were plump. We harvested them by the cup full.

The basil still looked happy and I took some leaves for dinner’s pizza sauce and got a few orange Roma tomatoes to put in the windowsill to finish ripening before the bugs eat them. The potatoes we planted seemed to be holding steady.

As I walked around the yard, I was thankful for the small amount of produce we are able to grow in so much shade. The weeds barely grow, but most of the plants do only slightly better. This is unlike what I have been describing all year at the farm where the weeds outpace the plants but both grow abundantly with such rich soil and direct sunlight.

But I know my house is not a farm and so we do what we can with what we’ve got. Our blueberry bushes were given to us by some church friends as a housewarming present almost 16 years ago. Unless a late frost or drought nips them, they produce wonderfully all summer long. The other items (minus the potatoes) I buy as tiny seedlings every year from a local produce stand and plant in a raised bed.

Honestly, it’s nice to take a break from a lot of heavy, hot work that the farm requires. Long experience with my dreadful yard soil tells me that it is impossible to recreate the farm magic at my house anyway, so I have learned to be faithful with what does work and enjoy it. Having a small amount of things you can tend faithfully is a blessing in its own right — it helps remind you of your finitude.

And yet I acknowledge I struggle with that concept. I want to taste it all which means I can take on too much too quickly. It means my husband and kids have to put up with my always having a full plate to care for our family and community. But I truly believe that learning to live with limitations is the first step toward true contentment. I am not meant to do and be it all, but my community can also help encourage me to be faithful with little.

Seasonal Learning

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

One of the books we read each year is called Turning of Days by Hannah Anderson. She has 7 short essays for each season. Her stories are very accessible because they are taken from everyday happenings on her property or in her community. In the very back of her book she has a “Field Guide” section where she discusses some skills to sharpen the reader’s connection to the outdoors. One thing she mentions is seasonal observation. When are things blooming? What’s going on when they bloom early or late or don’t bloom at all?

Our family regularly checks our front and backyard. We have a quarter acre lot, so while a limited area keeps the management of plants easy, it also means perennials can eat up that space. However, I love having plants that I can count on year after year*. My family and I can stroll by the beds and because we know where to look, we can know the plant names and watch the seasons unfold together year after year.

Here are some of the lovely things in bloom for April in my Tennessee neck of the woods.

*I know the sugar snap peas among these pictures aren’t perennials, but I will definitely keep planting them in this spot each year, so close enough!

Gardening Trial and Error

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

Saying “we’re going to learn together” can be a scary thing for an adult to say. We are so conditioned to be arbiters of knowledge. I think it’s a double scary thing for teachers to say. Unless you’ve been trained by programs that have a child-centered focus, people expect you have the answers, show up, and deliver the product. Maybe that’s why I have enjoyed teaching writing more and more — there are so many ways to get to the finish line* and the work doesn’t come exclusively from me.

I’m discovering that teaching gardening is rather similar.

This year we are tinkering with plants I have never tried to garden: sugar snap peas. I remember helping plant them on the farm with Jill and a handful of farm enrichment students last year. However, it was more like supervising. She had already started the plants in the greenhouse and had the trellis ready for staking. The plants grew well and the Maple Key girls harvested a ton of them on the last day of our program in May.

So on the same plot we are trying to grow sugar snaps once again, but we chose to directly sow them and are using a red collapsible trellis.


I was so inspired by this opportunity my daughter and I even planted some along the corner of the back corner of our chain link fence (natural trellis!) at home.

As I mentioned, I have never grown sugar snaps peas, so I did some research and am hoping for the best. Depending on what website or YouTube channel you look at you get SO many different ways to have a successful crop. One person swore by pre-planting indoors and transplanting to the garden. Another person said the exact opposite — sowing directly was better for the roots than transplanting. Some suggest pre-soaking the beans before you plant them (chose to do this) and adding an inoculant to the beans as a microbial additive to help nitrogen processing (chose not to do this).

At first all this conflicting advice was aggravating, but then I was reminded about all the conflicting advice we received about our winter garden and it miraculously survived and thrived. Gardening is a chance to explain to the girls that we can do our research, but ultimately we just experiment, make the best decision we can with what we’ve got, and see what happens. The opportunity to be surprised or fail is much better than thinking you’re going to nail it because you know so much. Gardening helps brings into view a more humbling, realistic view of ourselves and the rhythms of life!

Another thing I learned about this year was “seed tape”. You can purchase it pre-made or you can get a roll of toilet paper and seeds to try it yourself. It helps keep the plants in a straight line, avoids thinning, and prevents using a ton of seeds. When I asked the girls about seed tape, no one knew what I was talking about, so we made some at Maple Key for them to try at home. I did also buy some at Ace Hardware and planted it now in February to see how that will turn out in 60 days. We’re in zone 7, so it’s a gamble but an inexpensive one.


Here’s to experimenting!

*To be clear, I don’t know that I believe there is a “finish line” when you write, but there is often a point where you have to turn in the paper or manuscript and stop tinkering.

Becoming Placed

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

If you haven’t had the chance to meet Jill, you should. She’s the property manager for her family’s farm (High Point Farms) where Maple Key is located. She is by far and away one of the most generous people I have ever met. Hers is the kind of generosity that is rooted in interdependence, a true and mutual joy in sharing life and resources together.

Jill has been the incubator for countless other people like me including Morgan at Creekside Flowers, who got her business started at High Point. As a side note: Before starting Maple Key, I worked for the tutorial that meets at the farm on M- Th and driving in each morning my girls and I would see Morgan working hard on maintaining the health of her plants. I know she learned a lot from Jill, who also raises flowers for weddings and for individual sale. Hearing Morgan’s story (delivered impeccably, I might add) was inspiring and reminded me a lot of getting Maple Key off the ground. You play, tinker, research, and experiment when you don’t know how to do something.


Such has been the case with our late fall garden this year.

Jill suggested that we start a garden this year and I told her I would need help. My vague cries for direction were met with her voluntarily having a portion of land tilled by the tractor and two big piles of manure from the animals on the farm waiting for us. She even called her neighbor, Joel, who lives a mile up the road from her to come get us started with the garden. I laughed when she said she told him we needed a lot of help because we didn’t know anything 🙂

He came out to the farm as promised and skeptical though he was, worked with us for 3 hours (barefoot!) with no breaks talking to us about soil health and the basics of working with minimal tools and dirt since we clearly didn’t have a plan. After we marked off our lines, we used the seeder to ensure a straight row of plants. We watered it heavily and Joel prayed over the land.

Doing all this work in mid October (instead of August like the internet suggested we should have), we had no idea if the 2 month drought and coming cold snap would ruin our crop, but lo and behold we kept coming back to a new surprise of growth each week.

We only used one-third of the area Jill gave us to grow plants because Joel told us not to bite off more than we could chew. He was right in that trying to weed and harvest that much would have taken more time than we have in our 4 and a half hours each week. We did add some strawberries donated by one of our families though.

The time finally came when we had our last day at the farm for December. We decided to harvest some radishes, kale, and stray turnips greens that ended up in the other rows. It was more than a complete success. We have more food than we know what to do with, so this year we’re using it in our homes and giving it away to friends. Perhaps in the future we can still enjoy it for ourselves and friends while also selling it to give the proceeds to charitable organizations the girls research or fundraise for a special project.

Either way, there is such profound gratitude in seeing the Lord’s provision and work of your hands.


When it comes to risk, I like to think of myself as being a cautious personality. However, the constructive criticism I hear from other people is that I tend to underestimate what yield could come from faithfulness. I can definitely be like the servant in Matthew 25 that buries his talent and convinces himself he’s being a good steward. My faith in many areas of life is lacking because I hedge my bets to avoid the pain of embarrassment or loss. Modest success is better than no success, right? Reading one of my favorite naturalist authors, Robin Wall Kimmerer, helps me to see a path forward in demonstrating responsibility to something other than just keeping my ego safe. She says in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass:

“Being naturalized to place means to live as if this is the land that feeds you, as if these are the streams from which you drink, that build your body and fill your spirit. To become naturalized is to know that your ancestors lie in this ground. Here you will give your gifts and meet your responsibilities. To become naturalized is to live as if your children’s future matters, to take care of the land as if our lives and the lives of all our relatives depend on it. Because they do.”

When I showed my husband the pictures each week, he kept saying, “That dirt must be magic!” Though I know he was kidding, the truth is the dirt has been cared for for decades. They don’t use pesticides. Their compost is fresh. They make sure the pH balances. It is also reasonable to assume that the land was cared for by the Cherokee, a vital part of the history of this land.

The garden has reminded me how much part of “becoming placed” as essayist Wendell Berry says, means growing to love an area through being fully present and acting in faith and commitment to its history of care.

Coach 4 Life

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

Because I believe in asset based approaches, I recently took a strength finders test.

My top 5 were:

– Coach (supports others’ growth; dislikes wasted potential)
– Philomath (loves learning; dislikes know-it-alls)
– Strategist (sees big picture; dislikes slow decision makers)
– Catalyst (generates momentum from stagnation; dislikes wasted time)
– Brainstormer (idea generator; dislikes closed-minded people and practices)

In other words, I can get a lot done in short amount of time, but I really like to see the long term growth.


I was discussing this with my oldest daughter on the way home from a rainy cross country meet in Nashville. Her sisters were almost finished with their fall sports season with incredibly gifted and kind coaches. I told her my personality was definitely built like a coach and she was confused.

“I thought a coach was someone who screams at their team when they don’t do well after a game.”

I told her, who hasn’t had much sports experience, that unfortunately, some coaches do that but that her ideas were largely formed by TV sports tropes; coaches come in many shapes, sizes, and volume levels. I explained that life coaches don’t yell, but help adults stay on track to meet their goals. I said that asset-focused teachers are coaches because they know that they are only partly responsible for the results; the students is the one who must exercise their agency and make choices to propel their own growth.

She responded, “So you mean like an encourager?”

Exactly.

I have had those coaches that demeaned the players and being a sensitive child who had little tolerance for injustice, I was always demotivated and angry at them. I am thankful that organizations have moved toward placing the child’s needs above the competition through modeling community spirit. Seeing this posted on my old sports league’s website gives me hope that the community will hold itself (and all its coaches) to a higher standard and that’s just good for everyone.

I will never embarrass my child or [this organization] by verbally abusing/insulting participants, coaches, board members, other parents or officials.

Also, I understand that the stands are NOT the place to shout personal instruction.

If something occurs with which I disagree, I will calmly seek an appropriate solution, at the appropriate time.

I understand that instigating or participating in a confrontation in front of any child is NEVER appropriate and will not be tolerated.

I will never lose sight of the fact that I am a role model. I understand that children imitate their role models and by acting appropriately.

I will be modeling what I expect of my child as well as influencing others in the program.

When I look for people to help with Maple Key, I look for coaches though I don’t want their leadership profile to look just like mine. With the unique skills God has given them, these tutors see what can be when the girls in Maple Key learn over time the habits that are worthy of pursuit while knowing that making mistakes is a part of the cycle of growth.

“Some People Cry, Some People Do Other Things”

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

I have a thin scar between my chin and mouth. It’s offset to the right of my face. When I was in 3rd grade, I was hitting a beach ball over the swingset with my sister in our backyard. Our next door neighbor was playing on the tandem swing seat at the same time. I dove for the ball while he was gliding forward with all his momentum and suddenly an ER visit was born. Thankfully, my dad was home when my face started gushing blood. What do you put on a face wound like that? My memory recalls an ice pack or cold water in the mix of temporary relief in order to get me to the ER (ultimately a drenched washcloth compressed to my face did the trick).

I have a strong memory of my dad driving like a banshee in his red S-10. It was the first and only truck he ever owned because a few years later a drunk driver hit his truck bed and the sports trading cards he was transporting for his business flew all over the road. It’s a strange irony knowing that my dad’s body experienced reckless driving for different kinds of numbing — himself full of adrenaline driving a hysterical child whose face needed an anesthetic and colliding with a driver whose ability to cope with his trauma that day was maxed out.

Eventually my mom showed up and waited with me in the emergency room, too. Before they stitched me up, there was a part of me that wanted to see what the pain I was experiencing actually looked like on my face. I was too afraid to actually push hard for a mirror, but I remember my mom telling me that I really didn’t want to or need to see the hole. I somehow soldiered through the suturing that eventually left a bright red scar which showed up prominently in my class picture along with my brushed out curls (not sure which was worse my or hair or the scar). However, at age 38 even my own four children haven’t noticed the scar that I used to get a lot of questions about, so the doctor apparently did his job well.

My husband recently got to experience a similar fate as my dad, our first ER visit with a child after 13 years of believing we could avoid it. We were camping with church friends watching a movie at someone else’s site while he was about to put our four year old to bed. She had been monologuing and wildly gesticulating as children her age often do for 30 minutes. His wise strategy was to let her keep talking until she wore herself out. Unfortunately, as he was about to get up to escort her to her sleeping bag she made a miscalculated movement, tripped, and fell back into the smoldering fire. He quickly yanked her out as her favorite nylon princess nightgown instantly melted in the back. He rushed her to water and mercifully none of her outfit stuck to her. Her right hand did get licked by the flames though and it required some quick decision making. Both flooded by adrenaline, we ultimately decided for him to take her to the ER back home an hour away and I stayed at the campsite with the other girls until morning. Her initial care went smoothly and she got the ointment she needed to start the healing process.

When we all got home, my husband asked me if I wanted to look at her melted gown and I immediately said, “No!” My body’s reaction took me right back to the ER of my childhood, being so thankful I chose the parental wisdom in not being permitted to see the hole in my face. Instead of carrying that image in my mind for the rest of my life, I can now only see through my scar the healing that took place. I hope my daughter doesn’t ask to see her gown again, having to see the image of the gaping hole and the knowledge that she can no longer wear it and the memory that it burned right off her. But if she does, I will lovingly explain why I threw it away. I might wonder if that was the right decision for her as it was for me? Taking away the images of what could have been and focusing on the healing that lies ahead.

The papers from the hospital said there’s a possibility that even with the ointment her hand might be slightly discolored from the healing process. Our hope is that it will heal up entirely with no trace. But if not, she’ll end up like me, with her own story to tell about how her daddy showed up tender in his own way with a wound care variety pack and a box of fruity tic-tacs.

Before taking me to the ER, my dad was no stranger to hospitals because of the many surgeries my sister had to have due to her hydrocephalus and seizures. He showed up time and time again for her, my mom, and me. He still shows up in how he treats his granddaughters with the same level of sacrifice, spoiling, joke telling, and concern when someone is upset. Seriously, if there was an award for the grandfather who has played the most games of Candyland to calm someone down, he would win it no question.

I knew I wanted to marry my husband when I saw how deeply he thought about the implications of life. He read tons of books, was an incredible writer, and always kept his dorm room exceptionally neat. I don’t know that I believe the adage you try to marry someone like your father. There are many ways my husband is not like my dad at all, but I find that to be a healthy thing. In the ways that truly matter, I have two men in my life who are just alike — they.show.up.

Given the nature of this post, I am crying while writing it. I choke up a lot more these days than I used to: tears mean that my mind and body are processing well together. Writing out my memories means a similar healthy expression as well. Our oldest daughter, when chided by her younger sister about not crying at the news of her younger sister being burned, had her notebook out and was trying to write the events of the day by headlamp in the tent. She said as stoically, confidently, and slowly as a firstborn can, “Some people cry, some people do other things”. Her attempt at writing the facts helped her nervous system process in a way that kept her from completely losing it over her littlest sister’s injury. She might have taken my somber marching orders for everyone to get good sleep and not freak out a little too seriously, but I hope she heard my tears on the air mattress, too.

Lessons from a Robot Vacuum

Posted on by Rachel Lonas
Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

One of the best pandemic purchases we ever made was our Shark robot vacuum (affectionately known as Umizoomi, Umi for short). Having never experienced a machine like this, we particularly enjoy watching how his sensors work. The manual said we could program him to map the rooms for efficient cleaning, but our house is small enough that we never chose to invest the time. We just hit the clean button and watch him randomly bounce around until the room is free of grit. Sometimes I will be typing on my laptop while in the living room recliner and hear him struggle to get over the floor transition from the kitchen to the dining room. He often gets stuck there and will run his toothed wheels in futility. The obnoxious sound he makes is like a refrigerator that is trying to pulverize crushed ice for a cocktail, a repetitive chipping and grinding noise that is incredibly grating on the ear. At that point you have two options, rescue and redirect him or wait for him to figure it out on his own. At first, we did not realize he actually had the capacity to liberate himself from obstacles and tight places; we would just yank him up. We had to learn a tolerance for his robot nature by observing him over time and watching him get himself unstuck after literally banging his head against the wall. There are occasions where he truly is run aground by cruising over a stack of papers and then, and only then, will he emit a unique distress call and light up red.

When he needs to recharge I hit the ‘dock’ button and he senses the station’s signal no matter where he’s at. Unfortunately, he often discovers that there are couches or chairs in the way of his destination and he gets very confused. Despite being 15 feet from where he wants to land, he starts to take these bizarre, circuitous routes. From my perspective, they make absolutely no sense. Why would you go backwards when your goal is forward? Why would you end up in an entirely different room moving toward the things in your way over and over? And yet when I actually leave him alone, he does eventually find his home.

Paradoxically, our non-human resident, Umizoomi, teaches us quite a human lesson on how to take the long view when people (including ourselves) appear ‘stuck’. We so often want to swoop in and rescue using our solution when we see the same mistakes being made time and again. What opportunities do we snatch from them and us when we constantly insert ourselves into an uninvited conversation? There are certainly times when stepping in does allow for a constructive conversation, but we often we misread when there are signs of a challenge or problem to be solved and not actually of distress.

Through listening to the pain of my friends and attending to my own unaddressed hurts, I have been reflecting on and looping back to this theme of walking alongside people when you are tempted to cut to the chase with advice or dismissal. I am convinced that the way we can tell a hurdle from an S.O.S. (especially with our children) is by observing enough to discern the difference and checking in if we’re unsure. We give appropriate room for them to grow (which may involve our help if we demonstrate trust), but not without a safe place to land if needed that will still affirm their worth.

Process over Product: Fashion Edition

Posted on by Rachel Lonas
My daughter’s version of me – sweats and T-shirt

For Christmas this year, our 10 year old asked for fashion stencils. She used up her fashion kit from 2 years ago and wanted some more variety in what she could create. If you could see the number of papers we have around our house of fashion women she has designed… She is like a girl on a mission.

Truth be told though, a lot of these creations end up in the trash (and that may be hard for some moms to hear!).

I know that notebooks are a great way to preserve drawings, but with her drawing habit Michaels would be taking all my money. She isn’t drawing all these fashion ladies for a portfolio, but rather finds it soothing to play with color/pattern/accessory combos. She is making choices about tops and bottoms. She is using her imagination for the details. She is representing all skin colors in her work.

She came home today saying she was going to join in with a classmate’s imaginary business team; he was going to hire her as fashion designer. She spoke with confidence about what she could bring to the organization. Letting the process do the work has been an easy way to empower her to make choices on paper and let that translate into her personal wardrobe as well!

There is definitely a time and place for having a finished project, but for so many creatives the way you get the product you ultimately want is by repetition of the process.

A friend of ours once told us about his’s son incessant banjo playing. He said he practiced so much and for so long that it nearly drove them crazy, but he went on to get a PhD and is a well-acclaimed artist and teacher.

However, the end result doesn’t have to be multiple higher education degrees. Many preschools already know the wisdom of process and don’t send home adult-led crafts each week. They trust that laying out self-directed learning opportunities for the little ones is enough to fuel their creativity.

The next time you’re frustrated by your child’s new obsession, put the lens of “process” on and see if your attitude toward their habit(s) changes.

In Praise of Reciprocal Memberships

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

One way I encourage families to keep a family culture of being outdoors is through a “hack” we learned about several years ago — reciprocal memberships. Where we are in Chattanooga, we have access to a place called Reflection Riding which is a member of the American Horticultural Society. This association allows its members access to any other affiliated gardens on their list for a discounted price or usually FREE. Financially speaking, it’s a no brainer to join. Here’s some math:

Visit Atlanta Botanical Gardens once = $126 for our family of 6

Family membership to Reflection Riding = $70 AND we can go to any of the 330+ gardens for discount or free.

If you have access to gardens that offers these benefits, take advantage of them for you and your family, especially in the winter season when you might be less encouraged to be outdoors. Sometimes you get a surprise like we did yesterday, having a beautiful day in the upper 50’s. In addition, some places have greenhouses year round. Seeing how they will decorate the poinsettia tree (see below) is one of the highlights of the winter break for us. Actually, it might be the largest reason we created the tradition of going every year right before Christmas!

Displays at the Atlanta Botanical greenhouse never get old!

What Awaits us in the Woods

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

My older 3 girls started taking swim lessons this fall. They wanted to gain some confidence in the pool and learn new skills, so two days a week we head to a local university where college students run both a swim program and a gymnastics program for children.

During that time I take our 3 year old out on a nature walk on campus next to a creek. I enjoy that special time with her because she goes to a preschool program from 9-2 on those days. She and I have no agenda. Just walking and seeing what awaits us in the woods.


As we got to the end of the trail today, she asked if she could throw rocks in the water and “make music” with her splashing. I told her yes and watched her pure joy for several minutes. It struck me how different my unhesitating response is to her than when my oldest was her age. It has taken me more than a decade to grow into a mom who can say yes to their many requests about exploring the outdoors on their terms. Watching a lot of webinars from experienced early childhood educators has helped me revisit the limitations I used to set out of my exhaustion or anxiety. Their refrain is always the same: Just let them play. Let them learn about the world in their own way.

So I did. She tossed stones, carefully held and observed a pokeberry, asked me to take a picture of a small green bug she spotted, requested a smartweed plant be put behind her ear, wondered how to pronounce the plant I picked up (‘Osage orange’), and took her precious sweet time coming back to the building when we needed to collect sisters to go home.

I can’t believe she spotted this guy!

If there is a takeaway from these little excursions of ours it’s that every time we in the larger culture make time for these moments, we are teaching the next generation that accepting nature’s invitation is a worthy pursuit. Eventually observing nature will no longer be a pursuit, but a lifestyle that has “snuck up on you” as we say in the South. My husband has steered our family in this direction in the most humble and patient ways, and yet he always foremost credits his grandfather who grew up surrounded by gardens and animals as showing him a slower, more intentional way to live.