I lay on the couch sandwiched between pillows and a quilt. A Kleenex box, hand sanitizer pump, books, and a tall glass of water are by my side. "Lord, you know best," I pray silently.
As I look at the circumstances that surround this cold, I see the fingerprints of God. These are not cruel fingerprints, but rather the loving pat of a Father's hand. Some of the pats are soft and gentle. Take the provision of time, for example. My plan had been to be baking full swing last week when I was starting to feel the drain of my cold. That is until, prior to any cold symptoms, I made the decision to stop my farmers' market season one week early. God's direction.
Another pat, this time a bit harder, is having a forced break. My body is in need of time to heal after an intense summer of baking, but there is no time for that right now. Or so I thought. God knew better and is showing me otherwise.
Now for the hardest, most firm pat. "I direct my life. I go where I want to go. I am invincible." Such statements would bring a scoffing laugh to my lips if I uttered them out loud. I know they are not true. Yet there are times I unconsciously believe them. That is when God stops me in my tracks.
Some will say, "You were worn down. You were exposed to a germ. You got sick. It is all very natural." Yes, that is true. But where did nature come from? I believe it came from God and is even now being directed by Him. Evidence? There is plenty of it, but in the end it comes down to faith. Isn't it also faith to believe there is no God? Doesn't it take an overwhelming amount of faith to believe this complex world just happened by random chance? I believe so.
"God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. 'For in him we live and move and have our being.'"
Acts 17:27-28
Feeding half bales into the beater/blower. This stuff expands!
25 inches of fluff
I love preparing meals in this bare-bones kitchen.
Hungry yet?
Help yourself.
Last week a three pound box of granola made its way from my small town post office in MN to Hope, ND. I was grateful that Maren had already laid the footwork for this endeavor by calculating postage to see what would be the best mode of shipment. What we learned: prepaid boxes aren't the best deal - unless you load them with something heavy and melt-in-your-mouth scrumptious. I'm thinking brownies might do the trick.
Our cement crew returns.
The gravel road in front of our place became parking lot to the cement trucks waiting for their turn. Flashing thunderheads had us all a bit nervous. My sisters and I kept the cement crew up to date on what the radar showed while they worked as quickly as they could. Success!
One mishap - the foam blocks gave way in one spot causing a waterfall of cement to escape onto the floor. Once the wall was fixed the guys had a workout returning runaway cement to its proper home inside the wall.
Dad enjoying the view from his "captain's chair."
Closing it in and sealing it up.
The monster window being assembled...
... and heaved into place.
We have a room!
Uncles, cousin, pastor, friend - we were blessed with a willing and able work crew to pour the cement, basement walls.
Standing on scaffolding/wall braces.
Pastor manned the cement pump hose.
Bill did the "dirty work."
Uncles in on the action. Richard and cousin Erik handled the vibrator (see first picture). Rolf and Hans went behind, trowels in hand. Hans, do you call that working?
Dad kept a lookout for bowing walls. This window needed a bit more bracing.
Thankful for uncle Jerry (not pictured) and cousin Anders' help. 
A moment of joy. Hannah finishes painstakingly leveling the pea rock floor.
Once leveled, the rock was covered with heavy plastic. (I get a little fresh air and catch up on the progress after a long day of baking.)
The plastic is covered with dense, yellow foam. Working late into the evening to complete the job.
A plumber arranges the pipe.
The cement truck's first job of the day. Runny cement poured from the cement truck into the giant pump.
The pump's arm reached over our garage...
...directed with remote control by the operator...
...and aimed by the cement crew.
Rough leveling....
...followed by a few hours of careful smoothing. A beautiful job.
Thirty-three years and counting.
Sticky sheets of tar water-proofing applied to the exterior of the basement walls.
Yards of drainage tube surrounds the foundation. 
Our carpenter friend, Matt, and his friend pound one of the last trusses in place. Soon we'll have a ceiling/floor!
Anders and Jerry saw a Logix block to size. Main floor walls begin to rise.
There's the door!
Dad muscles a block into place.
Dad digging the basement for our addition (my future bakery). Let the project begin!
Meticulous measuring...
...and marking.
Hannah laying rebar.
Pouring the footings. What would we do without the help of friends?
Dad pounding a hole into our existing basement wall.
Big Legos.
The wall takes form.
Standing in our new basement.
