Choose Your Weapon
When it comes to weed control, we have many options to choose from here at the Cross-Dubya ranch. For row crops (fields planted in rows like corn, wheat, or cotton) we can use a cultivator to […]
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Cross-Dubya
The Scars That Remain
Driving across my pastures, I’m always looking for signs. Invasive weeds or insects that signal a need for treatment or sneaky serpents that can cause harm to my newborn calves and my buddy, Bubba, the chocolate
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Well-Worn Boots
As the old farmer stepped out into his garage, he bristled at the cool morning air. Reaching down, he patted his faithful companion, who immediately came to his side. Groaning softly as he bends down to
Help My Unbelief
Immediately the father of the child cried out and said with tears, ‘Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!’ (Mark 9:24, NKJV) I’ve long had questions about that Scripture verse. How can someone claim they believe and
The Rhythm of Ranching
For most of us, there’s a predictable rhythm to life. We rise each morning, brew then consume copious amounts of coffee or other beverage, and spend some time in study, prayer, and devotion. Some time after
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Living Filled
It doesn’t happen often enough, but sometimes I’m quiet enough to let God speak through me. On this occasion, it happened after I showed grace toward a driver during a rain shower on an unfamiliar road.
Tunawa Leah – Five Years
Friends; I first shared this post with you in January 2020. Today marks the 5th anniversary of this young lady’s captivity and persecution at hand of ISIS-WA (aka Boko Haram in Nigeria), and my heart remains
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That Old Rope
Walk into any old rancher’s house and it wouldn’t be a surprise to find a rope hanging on a wall somewhere. Ask them about it and you’ll hear a story along the lines of, “That’s the
Our Need For a Pahke
Don’t we all have memories of when the children were little and the cute or funny things they would say? Growing up in a different atmosphere than most children, I don’t have many of my own
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The Blessings Before Me
Winter is in full display as I walk out my back door and look left or right. Dried, dormant, brown, leafless, desolate. All about the landscape seems paused, awaiting the awakening of spring. It’s when I
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