Charlie

I had just looked back at my blog entries and could not believe I have not written an entry since August! Yikes! What’s the matter with me? So I started to reflect on several reasons why that might be and I came back time and again to the name Charlie. What is in a name? Well, I have known many named Charlie, and still do know a Charlie or too in my life. This fall, though, that name has changed for me. See, a few years ago two particular “Charlie’s” came into my life.

The first was a kitten, no more than 8 weeks old. We had been camping at a friend’s property in Deerwood, Minnesota. My second son wanted a cat desperately. Since we were in the process of moving from our longtime home in the Suburb of Deephaven, Minnesota to our new farm home in Carver, Minnesota the timing was right to bring a cat into the situation. It was June 2009. We happened upon a “Free Kittens” sign on our way into town for a few supplies. Who in their right mind picks out a kitten when they are camping? ME!

My son and I stopped at the home and from the woods, mama cat and her two kittens came bounding out. The first was a little fuzzy Siamese female and My son was immediately in love. He had to have her. The second was a male Mainecoon, cute as could be with his long hair and fluffy body. Right then and there I could not leave him behind. My husband would just have to deal with two new kittens instead of one…..

In the spring of 2010, my good friend and I went to see about a horse named Charlie. We drove north an hour or so and stopped at the hobby farm he was living at. Charlie was a big black Appendix gelding. He was quite tall, and very skinny. His current owner had not ridden him in about two years and she was feeding him only hay which would account for his slight physique. My friend got on him to ride and he was not impressive. He had a knack for standing still and shaking his head up and down violently. Still, against our better judgment, we decided Charlie needed to come home with us.

The first months with Charlie the horse were focused on getting him to accept a bit in his mouth, to let us touch his ears and to get him to put on some weight.  An amazing thing happens when good and gentle care is given to a horse, they blossom. And that is exactly what Charlie did. He bloomed into a wonderful dressage horse. He was my steady “Eddie”. He was the one who anyone could ride, our big, beautiful boy. He eventually gained 150+ pounds and was quite a looker, but at the high point of his flowering, my friend and I knew that something was not right with his hips. He was stiff a lot and his canter left a lot to be desired. We knew that at sometime in his prior life, some sort of accident must have taken place.

Now, Back to the little kittens….The little girl was named Emma and the name Charlie was given to the little boy.  Emma and Charlie were inside cats for the first summer and then they were allowed to be in and out as they pleased the following summer. Henry showed Emma that August at the Carver County fair and won a blue ribbon. It was a very exciting day. Later that week we couldn’t find Emma anywhere. She was always in at night and one evening she didn’t show up.  A few days later a search party hiked around the property and returned with only her pink collar. Her bell had given her away to a pack of coyotes.

Since then we have had barn cats come and go, but Charlie has always been there as the wise “older” cat. Charlie the horse was my main ride in the herd and he always took care of me. 

This fall, both of my Charlie’s have passed away.  First came the day that my friend and I realized that the hip issues we had hoped would pass were finally causing Charlie the horse some real pain and issues. Confirmations from the farrier, trainer and veterinarian would seal the deal and Charlie was put down. My friend and I chose to have him put to sleep here at the farm, he always got nervous in new places and we wanted him to be as comfortable as possible. As we were leading him to “the spot” (a grassy plot on the property away from the barn) tears were steadily streaming on both of our faces. My friend stopped Charlie to stand him square as the vet readied the needle. Charlie stretched his head and pulled my friend into his chest and hugged her as if he knew this would be their last moments together here on earth.

Last Monday morning I went down to the barn to do the morning chores. Right now we have 4 newer kittens in the barn and as the weather has turned cold I have been bringing them wet cat food each morning. As I entered the barn, I noticed that in the heated cat bed (yes we heat a bed for our barn cats) was Charlie the cat, sleeping. I went about the business of letting out the chickens and I opened the cat food and placed it on the counter a few feet away from Charlie. Oddly, his eyes opened but, he did not move for it. I finished feeding the horses, ducks and goats and started to walk to leave the barn, when I was struck by Charlie’s unusual behavior. As I approached him something in his eye told me he was not ok. As I lifted him out of the bed, he cried and continued to do so until I got up to the house and had him securely wrapped in a blanket on the kitchen counter as I franticly called the vet’s office.  Something had attacked him. His entire back side was torn open and internal organs were now external.  The vet would not be in for hours and Charlie’s breathing was shallow.

For both of my Charlie’s, I had to be a part of the decision about when they would die.  When do you take extensive measures and when do you give someone, or something peace. I still don’t know. Maybe these chapters at the farm are to help me understand that in any situation, I have to have faith in my judgment.  That one can never really know if the best decision has been made. That all I can do is look into the eye of my cat, or my horse and know them well enough to see their non-verbal choice. Do you ever really know an animal well enough to make that choice for them? I have to believe it is possible, as the alternative, for me, is unbearable. 

 Above: Charlie the cat protecting my garden.

 Above: Charlie the cat cozy in my drawer.

 Above: Charlie the horse saying "hello!" to my daughter and my friend's daughter.

 Above: Charlie the horse (left) sharing hay with our other horse (right) Cheval.

Grapes

When God gives you a surprise batch of wild grapes growing in your horse pasture, what do you do? Make syrup of course! This week a young friend showed me a large number of wild grapevines growing around our horses and over the fence line in our pasture. Upon further inspection, it was deemed that while these grapes were extremely bitter, large seed bearing, and tiny, that they were legitimately edible.

While I stood in the pasture debating ones safety in eating random wild fruit, it dawned on me how our marketing driven world had cursed my natural desire for a sense of adventure. As I thought about the delectable edibles I could create with my new found bounty, fear overcame my daydream adding visions of food poisoning, botulism and a whole host of other food spread illnesses. Apparently my mind is perfectly comfortable with the idea that if a large conglomerate makes my jam. That somehow I am safeguarded from various plagues if a group of shareholders are involved, but if I brew up a batch of yumminess in my kitchen, sudden death is immanent. Why is this?

Last year I grew brussel sprouts in my garden, and when it came time to harvest them, I was afraid to eat them. When I discussed my grave fears with my less that empathetic husband, I realized how I had been duped. I was sold the idea that commercial food is the safe route. That if food is processed by the gallon, in large steel drums than somehow it is safer and even potentially more “healthy” than steaming some sprouts from my garden.

Needless to say, my husband required me to eat the brussel sprouts. I’m happy to report that other than deciding that these are not good veggies to try to grow in Minnesota, due to the short growing season (which renders them small and bitter), that no evil fell upon our home.

So back to the grapes…..I plucked enough to fill a large basket and strolled through the pasture and through the barn up to the house to arrive at my kitchen. I washed the grapes and began the painstaking job of taking them off of the vine. Several minutes and many purple stained fingers later, I decided to drop the grapes, stems and all into my kettle to boil them down and extract the juice.

Within a few moments my kids were wondering what smelled so good in the kitchen. I strained my deep purple juice and discarded the carcass of vines and skins into the bucket of scraps for the chickens. I added sugar to the kettle and began the process of reducing the juice down into thicker syrup.

Once the process was complete, I sampled some of my finished product on a slice of pound cake I had baked the day before. Heaven! Pure heaven was in my mouth. These puny little grapes, water and sugar combined to make a taste bud explosion in my mouth. While I could sense the “grapeness” of the syrup, other more berry like flavors burst forth. What I had been missing these last two years that these vines sat undiscovered in my pasture, and what a great example of the benefits of taking a leap of faith.

Since this discovery, I have made 8 more pints of syrup and if it were not for my son’s impending trip to the state fair this week, I would be canning like a fiend. But I can’t help but think about all of the lost opportunities I have had slip through my fingers because I believed that someone else was a more reliable source than my own experience or intuition. I know that questioning the basis of my life decisions is a big part of my current journey, and I am thankful that God chose to bequeath these grapes to me in order to remind me, that every so often he grants us the fulfillment of wishes we didn’t even know we had.

So next time you’re out my way, stop on by and see what’s brewing in my kitchen. Who knows, maybe I’ll become an expert at thistle soup or burdock tea. No matter what, I will never look a gift grapevine in the face and fail to pluck its bounty again.

Reflections

Some of you don’t know much about me, so  I hope that at the end of this time together that all of you will have learned something new, something thought provoking, and if you find at the end of this time that you have learned nothing, then please don’t tell me, my ego can only take so much! But instead be an encouragement to others around you that have not quite figured out Patience and Gentleness.

 I used to think that Patience was something God bestowed on people, you either were Patient or you were not patient.  I was not Patient.  My impatience led me to act as the master of my destiny.  I have always been willing to work hard, just not long. “I’m a sprinter, not a marathon runner” I would say to myself, or “I’m great at Creation, roll-out and implementation of things, but don’t put me in charge of maintenance.” That way I could justify why I was uncomfortable in job positions once I had established new teams and ways of doing things. My career has been made in 18 month increments.

At home I was great at re-painting or wall papering an entire room in a weekend, want to put in a new garden tomorrow? Then I’m your girl, but the day to day of Laundry, cleaning floors and such were not my idea of a good time.  It was SO maddening to me; I would do anything I could not to maintain our home chores because they were pointless to me, “whatever I do is just going to be undone again!” I’d tell my husband.  Poor guy!

Well, my impatience finally caught up with me a few years ago.  Along with other personal challenges (which I’ll save for other discussions), I became aware of my impatience.  I started to understand how my impatience was negatively impacting me and my friends and family.  Not to mention the ever present mountain of Laundry! Just to give you an example of the lengths I went to in order to avoid home maintenance, I actually had enough clothes for each of my 4 kids and I, that I really did not have to do Laundry more than once every three weeks. Yikes!

To me, patience was needed to manage the time in between the excitement. I love Change; in the past I thrived on change, but too much change in one’s life creates Chaos, not peace.  I needed and longed for some peace.

About four years ago, I started to pray for Patience.  I’d like to share with you what God has done in my life and what I have learned from other brilliant people since I prayed honestly and truthfully for Patience.  First a warning! Do not pray for Patience if you are not serious about wanting it.

I wanted patience desperately! At the time I began praying, I was working full time, studying for my MBA, a mother of 4 and trying to be active at church. I was exhausted! I had created a lot in my life, but I was not enjoying any of it. I knew I was living by my will, not God’s will. For the first time ever I really wanted to try life his way.  I remember telling him to “hit me over the head with a brick” to tell me what I needed to do to seek this Peaceful life I so wanted.

The first thing that happened after I started to walk down the path seeking for Patience is I lost my job.  I was laid off.  I was not worried, I was used to finding new positions, I loved change, I had a nice severance, so ok, I’d just go find something else.  Daily I would pray for God to direct my life.  And each day I would go out and look for work.  Recruiters who had placed me before were thrilled that I was on the market again, everyone was very optimistic about my potential to replace my position.  But, I was not to stay in corporate America.  After several months of no interviews, I realized God wanted me to stay home.  Me, the impatient, no laundry doing, career woman was going to be a stay at home mom?? 

About this time I found a great resource in Joyce Meyer.  Her book “Battlefield of the Mind” has been a tremendous light for me as I have traversed this dark tunnel of perusing patience.  She was the first person who helped me understand that Patience is not an emotion. Patience doesn’t just happen.  It isn’t something that God just gives you. It’s like a muscle that has to be worked on to build strength.  How do you build this muscle?  You must exercise! What are the exercises for Patience? The only way to strengthen your patience is to endure situations that require patience.  Now, had I really known this to be true in the beginning, I’m not sure I would have ever prayed for Patience.  Work stopped, and it was great, all the things I had wanted to have time to do I was now able to do, at first.

You see Patience also requires you to be fearless.  Think about times when you find your anxiety level growing.  You’re late for an important meeting at work, and traffic is stopped. You are waiting for the doctor to call with your spouse’s test results. Your child is waiting to hear from a prospective college.  Your friend has not returned your call in 2 days, and that is just not like her.   Some of these situations are a big deal, some are not really a big deal, but they all have something in common; FEAR.  Fear is the first factor you must overcome to have patience. Fear of the unknown is common, along with fear of change, fear of no control, all of the “what if” scenarios are what make it hard to be patient.  Throw an ego into the mix and you have the perfect recipe for impatience.

For me, fear sounded like, “how will we live on just my husband’s income? Will we have to leave our home?”, “What will people think of me if I’m “just a stay at home mom?”, And the biggest fear “What if I’m a better worker than a mom?”, “what if I can’t do it?”

My mind was full of all kinds of self-defeating and negative thoughts, I needed to clear out the bad stuff and fill my head with some good news.  I made several decisions, if I was ever going to have patience; I had to control my thoughts.

From that moment on, I changed the things in my life that were giving me negative input. I purposely stopped watching television.  I turned off HGTV in my home for good.  I stopped reading home magazines and threw away my fashion magazines. I sent my “Working Mother” subscription packing!  Instead I spent time reading the bible and biblically influenced works. I had Joyce’s book at my bedside and read it over and over again each night. Through my readings, I learned that patience is not just an emotion; it is a way of managing one’s feelings through a situation.  It takes discipline.  What kind of discipline?  To master Patience, you must have the strength to manage your mind and your thoughts.

Romans 12:2 became my battle cry. “Do not conform any longer to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is- his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

See, I firmly believe that our culture loves impatience.  We are rewarded for it, encouraged even to be impatient. 

Feel sluggish? Drink red bull and get wake up now! Short on cash but want to buy something? Just Charge it!  Want to lose weight? Take this pill and lose weight fast. Wrinkles got you down? Use this for an instant face lift!  Don’t like something? Change it.  Uncomfortable? Adjust your life now! 

No wonder I was so good at being impatient.  I was in control of my life…..or so I thought.  This is where the second factor that leads us to impatience needs to be introduced.  Folks, pride is now joining the conversation.  Oh, I was prideful and so afraid of failure!  Specifically afraid of what others would say about my failure. So because my self esteem was based on pride of my works, and not based on God’s unconditional love and acceptance of me, I was vulnerable. I found my pride growing and my defenses were high! I actually started becoming more impatient, because a humble person will not display impatience. I needed to get over myself!!

John 16:33 says “In the world you have tribulation and trials and distress and frustration; but be of good cheer. For I have overcome the world.” God has already provided everything for us. SO why be impatient?  Easy enough, isn’t it? Just Stop being impatient! Well, it’s not that easy if you’re a human being!

We each must turn away from ourselves and look upon God. We need to have the mind of Christ. Submitting your will to God’s will, does not mean that you sit, doing nothing, waiting for God to provide your needs and direct your every moment. It starts by making one decision, the decision that you are going to “own your thoughts”. You are responsible for your own impatience.  God is Patient, how else can we explain why he continues to stand by us as we fall short again and again. Take time to be present with God, time to hear him.

We each need to enjoy where we are while we are on our way to where we are going!  Pride prevents us from enjoying where we are because a proud person thinks so highly of herself that she does not think she should be inconvenienced in any way.  Satan loves it when we are in this mode! He loves to fill our heads with idealistic prideful thoughts.

In the same way, he can also swing the pendulum to fill our head with thoughts that we should not expect or want for anything.  My husband was raised with the idea that if he never wanted anything, he would never be let down.  So he has spent his life denying his wants because of his fear that he will be let down.  And guess what? He has still been let down! So it didn’t work! God doesn’t want us to not want anything.  God wants us to bring our petitions to him, to ask him for what we want. He puts desires in our hearts for a reason.  We are to ask him and to wait patiently.  How do we wait patiently? Focus on the knowledge that God wants good things for you.  He wants you to be filled with joy. But he also wants you to be patient.  Galatians 5:22 teaches us that patience is a fruit of the spirit. It is deposited in each of us when we are born again, our ability to display patience is very important to God.  It is also a living testament of God’s character.

James 1:2-4 teaches us that we should rejoice when we are challenged, knowing that God uses trials to bring about the fruit of the Spirit, like patience.

“Consider it wholly joyful, my brethren, whenever you are enveloped in or encounter trials of any sort or fall into various temptations. Be assured and understand that the trial and proving of your faith bring out endurance and steadfastness and patience.  But let endurance and steadfastness and patience have full play and do a thorough work, so that you may be perfectly and fully developed, lacking in nothing.”

Many trials have come my way since I prayed for patience.  In the past 3 years alone, my husband and I had to make some tough decisions, we moved our family for the first time in 16 years to a new town, I have broken several bones, we have invited a whole host of animals to join our circus.  We have made many changes.  But remember, I’m the girl who loved change right? Well this time I can truly say, I believe these changes, while hard, have been good. And I realize that since I let go of the steering wheel and let God hop in the driver’s seat, Patience is coming to me.  Each trial, each challenge gives me an opportunity to get my mind set on God and to enjoy the process, to embrace the unknown.  To know he is in control.

While there is no formula for peace, I believe one thing to be absolutely true.  Peace is not the absence of chaos, but rather the ability to sit steadfast in the midst of the storm, to look to God and worship him with your hole heart when the world tells you that you are getting the short end of the stick, and to know that regardless of the circumstance, that through Christ, you can do all things, even be more patient.

Heat

It was HOT. 102 degrees. In June. In Minnesota! What kind of madness was mother nature experiencing? I was doing my best to keep myself cool, feeding in the barn early in the morning, turning on the fans in the barn to keep the animals feeling the movement of air. I had just come into the air conditioned house for a long cool drink of ice water when I saw her.

She was in our mudroom. It is a not insinuated 3 season porch where many of our farm animals start their lives. Chicks are brooded here, ducks grow big enough to go to the barn here, and as in this case, kittens are born here.  Mui Mui, as we affectionately call her is one of our female barn cats. I saw her, lying on the floor of the mudroom, stretched out as far as she possibly could, panting away as her lungs pumped and her all black coat rose and fell with each breath.  She was over heated. Around her lay the bodies of 8 kittens, in similar stance. Four of these little creatures were her offspring and 4 were from our not so nice “mama kitty” in the barn.  Mui Mui was kind enough to play the part of wet nurse for all 8 of the kittens. 

The sliding glass door was open to the outside and I had the ceiling fan on in the room, but at this temperature, it did little but moves hot air around. She was panting so heavily that her mouth never closed.  I went into the freezer and got some ice for her water.  If you have ever heard the old saying, “you can lead a horse to water, but you can not make it drink”, than it will be helpful to know that it is possible to take out horse and insert mother cat on a hot day.

My dilemma was that I really could not take her out of the mudroom. We have other cats in the house that would not appreciate mama and her upstarts in their space. As well as my husband who has long ago lost his sense of humor about newborn kittens. Letting her go out to the cooler place of the barn would mean risking losing babies in the hay loft. No, she had to stay where she was.

Given that the place couldn’t change, I resumed looking for any alternative to cool her down. I brought out ice packs from the freezer, but had no luck convincing her or the babies that they should cuddle up to these wet blocks of ice. Then with some help from my husband the solution appeared! If I took our old oversized cookie sheet and laid the ice under it, the aluminum would disperse the cold and the cats could lay on it to cool down.  Brilliant! The bunnies in the barn used the same concept by moving their bedding away to reveal the cool cement floor underneath.

Mui Mui and the babies did not need much in the way of convincing to think that this platter of coolness was the cats meow.  Mama laid down without a moment of hesitation and the babies followed. Soon all were breathing slower and the babies even nursed on the cookie sheet.  I spent the rest of the day reviving the ice packs and keeping everyone happy. 

Later that evening as I watched Mui Mui give the babies their baths, I had an epiphany.

How many times in my life had I been so very uncomfortable in my circumstances? How often had I found myself facing situations that were not going to change quickly or easily? Or worse of all, unpleasant situations where I had little or no control? What were the moments in my life where I was panting for breath and wondering when the discomfort would end? What had happened during those times?  How had I managed through them?

I realized that while my situations don’t always radically change, that somehow, I can bear them long enough for resolution. I think that is God’s intervention in my life. Not that the situations change without pain, but that he helps us to bear the pain. The bible clearly states that tough time happen, to everyone. But God’s word is quick to remind us that we walk these paths with him, not alone.

Mui Mui was not alone that terribly hot day. Please do not misunderstand what I am about to say, I am comparing myself to God directly, but if he is the ultimate father in our lives, then for Mui Mui, I am mom. A good parent realizes that the situations their children find themselves in are not always going to be pleasant, but as a parent, when tough times abound, we try to cloak them in peace and ultimately we show them love.

Fear

Since moving to the farm two years ago I have had to face many fears. Some are little fears, will I be able to keep little baby chicks alive in a brooder box in my unheated mud room in February, some are big fears, will I be able to afford to stay home with my kids if I leave corporate America, and some are in the middle, do I really have to pull these ticks off of my kids?  But as each incident that tests my fears comes along, I have been stunned by the internal ability that has come forth to hit them head on. As I have conquered each of these things, some taking a lot longer than others, I have made a mental note of the accomplishment and had a moment of thanksgiving. See, I believe that fear is the direct opposite of faith. 

Each time fear creeps up on me, or slaps me across my face; it is a time for me to flex my faith muscle.  The act of building that muscle up takes time and definitive effort over time. It is the act of taking each moment as it comes and putting your best foot forward in that moment.  It is saying to God, I have no idea what will happen, but I believe in the end I will be ok. 

I know that previous worldly training has taught me to believe I need to have a plan for all seasons of my life. Save for my retirement, plan for my kid’s college, build equity for the future, get the best training in school for the long haul of a career, etc. Spending all of my time focused on planning for tomorrow made me a person who lived in tomorrow. When you are hyper focused on planning and controlling what will happen tomorrow, it is impossible to enjoy today. The funny thing is that there is no way you can be totally prepared for what will happen tomorrow.  The best thing you can do is make decisions as they come to you today and lean on faith for the rest.  Sounds easy? It is not. It is the main lesson I grapple with in my current life.  Each moment of each day, I try to make the best decision not knowing what each outcome will be.  Sometimes the decisions are terrible, and have tough consequences, but more often than not, the outcome is better than I could ever have planned because I allow room for God in the details.

By taking each moment as it comes, being flexible and open to shifts in the path, I actually believe that I allow God the freedom to act in my life. If I think I know how everything is to be at all times, how in the world will God participate? In that mindset I will actually fill the answers before God has any input in the situation. Life really is about walking with God and not leaning on our own understanding.

This week I experienced direct physical fear and hit it head on. I was working in the garden with my daughter when my husband announced from the porch that there seemed to be a problem with a duck in the pond.  As he was on a conference call, I was left to investigate on my own. I walked down to the pond and came upon our duck Ferdinand thrashing around appearing to be stuck on something in the pasture pond.

His wings were flailing up and down as he appeared to be sinking into the murky algae filled darkness.

He was just out far enough that I knew I was going to have to enter into the water past my knees to get him out. To say this water is gross is and understatement. It is dark, muddy murky stuff.

As Ferdie looked at me, flapping ferociously to stay above water, I knew that if I did not get into this gross water filled with who knows what, that he would die. He was exhausted from keeping himself afloat. I stepped into the dark pool and my feet sank 3 inches into slimy mud. My shoes were immediately stuck and of no help to me. It took a lot of effort just to manage walking out to him as my feet were engulfed in the cool muck.

Just as I reached out and found myself just 3 inches too short to reach his neck, the algae on top of the pool cleared and I saw with great horror what was holding him in place.

There was the biggest snapping turtle I have every seen grasping on to Ferdie’s foot and slowly dragging him under.  If you know anything about snapping turtles, you know that they can break human bones with their jaws.  For a brief moment, the fear of my own self preservation took over and I was frozen as I pondered the thought of lossing toes or fingers in my mind. 

His shell was over a foot in circumference and he was holding onto Ferdie for the long haul.  I realized that Ferdie was trying to flap in my direction, his eyes looked deep into mine and I knew instantly what I needed to do.  I stepped forward and grabbed Ferdinand’s neck, pulling both he and the snapping turtle still attached to his webbed feet onto the shore.

Once on shore adrenaline kicked in and some how I managed to separate the two, I think I stepped on the turtle’s back to get him to release Ferdie.  But then the turtle started to run back to the pond. I was not going to have that monster preying on my critters anymore and so I reached down and grabbed the back of his shell hurling him up further onto shore.  In the end I would do this twice until my husband appeared with our huge barn shovel to pick him up and relocate him to a river several miles away.

Ferdie is recovering with the rest of the flock, and while he still will not let me catch him to set his broken leg, I know he is thankful for my willingness to face my fears on his behalf, for I have seen the fear of death in his eyes.

Never in my life did I think I would have done any of these things.  Never in my life did I think I would live on a farm, care for my kids and animals everyday. Never in my life did I think at fourty years old I would be riding horses again. Never in my life did I imagine being brave enough to let my husband be the breadwinner in our family. Never in my life did I imagine that I would help a barn cat deliver her 1^st litter of kittens. Never in my life did I imagine that I would get comfortable with the knowledge that I don’t have it all together all the time and I certainly do not know what will happen tomorrow.

But both Ferdinand and I am happy that my life has become bigger and better than just what I could have imagined.

Below is a picture of the turtle on his back in the shovel.  This shovel is 24 inches across.

Margo

On Easter morning we returned home from church and prepared for the joy of children searching for plastic eggs filled with goodies all around the farm yard.  The cold rainy weather had lifted and the sun was shining slightly as the kids prepared their baskets. We let the 2 littlest ones go first, then one a little older, and finally the oldest were free to gather all that they could.  Shortly after the hunt began, my son called to me. “Mom, I think the rooster is over here dying!”  And sure enough, he was right.  Our rooster Chanticleer was lying on his stomach with his face turned to his left. Upon seeing him, I knew instantly that his neck was broken.  He was silently gasping his last breaths.  I knelt down next to him and stroked his back.  “I’m so sorry Chanticleer.” I whispered to him.

My husband came over and together we realized that Chanticleer needed to be put out of his suffering.  We also noticed that there were random piles of feathers around other areas of the barnyard. My husband went into the house and brought out his handgun, after a few shots and a lot of flapping (Chickens do not die quickly), Chanticleer was dead.

I walked down to through the barn out into the pasture and found another hen dead, still intact.  She had been dead for a while, her body as stiff as a board.  I carried her up to the barn and gave her to Dan.  All told, we were missing 4 hens and Chanticleer.  We can to the conclusion that the heavy fog we had encountered that morning as we left early for church, had disguised a pack of coyotes in the early hours of Easter.  The hens had left the security of the coop to feast on early morning bugs and had been unaware of being hunted.  Chanticleer appeared to have tried to save his hens as we found feathers 50 yards away from where he had fallen, neck broken, too hurt to resume the fight.

It was odd to me that the coyotes didn’t take away all of the bodies, Chanticleer was fully intact.  Why waste a meal?  I’m not sure I’ll ever understand.  Had the horses intervened? Had they interrupted the feast and scared the pack away? We will never truly know what happened.  But when I prayed over Chanticleer, I felt certain that this brave rooster had died protecting the rest of his ladies.  I thanked him for his great service, for all of the times he had alerted them to the presence of eagles, and for the times he showed them all where the best grubs were.  I told him I forgave him for ripping off their feathers during his intimate moments with the hens and that I would miss him.

Two nights later, one of the missing hens returned. It was Margo, one of the first hens to arrive during our first fall living at the farm. She has always been one of my favorites, her black and white feathers made up the softest coat I have ever touched on a bird.  She was a silent chicken, never raising her voice to scold the other ladies.  When I saw Margo had returned, I was ecstatic! I ran to her and picked her up, placing her on the hay bales where she stood and slept on every night. She was not ok. I could tell right away that she was badly hurt.  I placed her gently there in her favorite spot, along with some grain and told the other ladies to leave her be.  I prayed for healing as I could tell that her left side had been crushed and she was missing a lot of her feathers.  She had no open wounds as far as I could tell, but the color was fading from her crest and waddles, an indication of aging or ill health.  I told her that I was happy she had come home.

Margo lasted two days before she passed away.  I had found her several times on the ground, having fallen off of the hay bales and unable to get up off of her left side. I gently picked her up each time and placed her back in her “bed”. The final night I could tell death was eminent. Her color was draining rapidly from her usually vibrant crest and her waddles were following suit.  She had begun to drool and her eyes were half open.  I went to the house and asked my husband to please put her down too.  I asked him to do it quickly and to spare me any details. 

As I reflect back on these events, I feel so blessed to have had these critters in my life.  I appreciate the event of death more now than at any time in my life.  I’ve lost my grandparents to death, but honestly these events are so sporadic that they hardly seem real.  This spring we have encountered so many small deaths at the farm that my perception is really changing. When my husband recently called me to say he had found two dead kittens in the barn, I was sad, but not shaken. I felt blessed that we had been able to help Mui Mui the barn cat deliver the other four without incident.

I dare say that I am getting more comfortable with death. Not that I want to start spending all of my time at funerals, but I am more understanding of the role of death in a process called life. 

So often we celebrate things in our world. I had already mastered that ability early in life. I loved celebrating things! Purses, cars, all sorts of stuff had always filled me with joy. But the time I have spent birthing and watching the deaths of these simple farm animals, the more I realize that it truly is in the moments shared that purpose and fulfillment exist, not in the moments of acquisition. Now, I know that most of you reading this figured all of this out much earlier than me.  I am a late bloomer.  But if you have not held a small body from its birth until its death, I encourage you to not underestimate the positive impact to your life when you care for some one or something else, no matter how long or short your time together may be.

Chanticleer eating scratch with his ladies.

Winter

I have had an epiphany recently regarding my blog.  I failed to write any entry in the entire month of February and I was quite upset at myself.  When I started this process back in November, I was confident that I would write something at least several times a week. Now I find myself regretfully experiencing a time where it would appear that writing once in the entire month would have been an achievement. It started me to think about where the time had gone. 

When I was a full time Sales Manager, I managed 50+ employees and was typically involved in several additional projects or committees. My days began early were filled with meetings and reports. I worked, most recently, downtown so commuting added to the hours spent on work. I remember ordering out dinner a lot or leveraging the Schwans man for a “just in time” dinner. By 8:00 I was exhausted and usually had very little energy for my then 3 boys. But, since I valued over achievement, I was also pursuing my MBA, so I would begin the work of my classroom and hope to be in bed by 10:00 so I could wake at 6:00 and begin again.  I had a full time nanny, and at first that seemed to be a good arrangement. Money flowed into our household, but that didn’t seem to stop the continuing stress regarding money. There truth to the idea that money is one of the top reasons of divorce in America.

I was plagued with the desire of promotion. And in all honesty, I was good at what I did. I loved working for the benefit of my employees and frankly, there were times that I had to fight tooth and nail for what was due to them. Something few of them would ever know enough about to appreciate. But I was not politically savvy and I was too ambitious for my own good, and so in April of 2008, I found myself on the outskirts of the inner circle and left the corporate world.

It has been 3 years of detoxification from that place. And while it has been a time filled with change and lots of emotional impact, I am so thankful for all that has occurred. But I look back at that time and wonder how I managed to have any personal time at all.  I really did think that I had everything anyone could ever want, and for the majority of those years, I thought I was living a dream.  And perhaps I was, but it was not really my dream, it was the “American” dream. I am now painfully aware that I did not know myself well enough to know what I really wanted in life and in failing to spend time cultivating that knowledge; I was inserting the marketing mantra of the world’s perspective in its place.

Which brings me to the title of this entry, “Winter”. This winter we seem to have had every illness that has walked the halls at the 4 different schools that family members of mine attend, the weather has been pretty, but cold and oh, so much snow! I have found that I have missed a lot of activities this winter, and I have spent a lot of time at home. There are times when I feel badly that I am not accomplishing more. Times when I think that since I’m home I should have everything cleaned and in it’s place. I certainly should have been able to write a few blog entries!!

My laundry is still not done and I wouldn’t eat off the floor of the kitchen, so what has filled the hours? Where did I “invest” my time? Well, I started baking bread from scratch and made a decision that I was going to master the art of pizza dough, and by the way it is harder than you think! I have spent a lot of time reading and my morning devotional time has been so awesome. My youngest and I have had a lot of “art” time and we managed to get her room painted too. But aside from all of these things, I have spent time talking with my husband, talking about this summer and the months to come. Time spent in quiet contemplation has helped me to hear the ideas that I might have missed if I was too busy to think.

This winter has been long, but spring is on the way and I have proof! Right now we have received our baby chicks and ducklings so our mudroom has turned into a maternity ward of sorts. They are the first signs of the season of growth at the farm. Gardens are planned, projects established and babies growing for the 4H county fair.

I was holding one of the chicks yesterday when it dawned on me. Winter is a time when the garden rests. The animals hunker down. The barn is quiet. No babies are born, no horses are ridden, the hen’s major accomplishment is the laying of an egg and eating and the barn cats seem to spend time simply staying warm. We all need time to do the same, and while our culture would have us believe that 2 weeks of vacation a year is an adequate amount of time for rest, I disagree. I’d like to vote for a season of rest each year! Let’s take a cue from nature and “simmer down” a spell. Retreat to our homes with our families and learn to bake bread!

I know, I know, who would keep the world spinning? Well if you don’t join me, at least understand that there are times in your life when your purpose is not output, but rather to input. That is if you find yourself in a season of rest, by choice, through a loss of a job, an illness, or by any means, embrace it. Listen in the slowness for guidance, enjoy watching others hurry by and take your time. Soon enough the winter will pass and Spring will be upon you, I promise that if you embrace the season of rest, that you will be ready for the following season and whatever it brings!

Tundra

We have officially hit the middle of winter in Minnesota.  Today it was -15 below wind chill. This is the time of year when the weather takes center stage in all conversations and everyone questions their sanity in living in such a place.  For me, it is a bit of an inconvenience.  Especially since the pumps in the barn have frozen and water must now be taken from the pump in the middle of the yard down to the animals in the barn via buckets. Fortunately for me, my husband has a good sense of humor and a willingness to help me with “my” animals.

The thing I love about this time of year is that the cold weather really forces you to be deliberate. No one wants to spend more time outside than they have to, so you learn to economize your time out of doors.  Need to run to the market? Best stop at the store attached to the mall where you need to pick up a new cell phone battery. Kids need a project done for school? I’m sure we can find something in the house that can be repurposed for tag board. Do I really need to run out for cream, or should I just try to embrace coffee with skim milk? 

Additionally, it forces me to be intentional during my trips to the barn.  If I don’t have it on me when I get down there, then the critters go without.  At least until the next trip some 10 hours later. The wind slaps my cheeks as I leave the house and by the time I reach the barn door they are red and angry.  Toes lose their pulse and fingers ache. The wind has blown any bit of loose snow back over and filled in my path, making each step into the knee deep snow effort filled. (Especially when one is balancing buckets of water.)

Once in the barn, I love my moments with the animals.  I love feeling the warmth of the horses as I check under their blankets, ensuring they are just warm enough. The barn cats follow me into the pasture as I lay out the horses hay. They walk in my foot steps and quickly pounce on the flakes of hay to save their paws from the bitter ground. Ebenezer, one of the young male cats, loves to stand on my boots as I disperse the hay. And Manny the other young male consistently likes to climb the back of my pants, as if I will not notice the claws of death drilling into my skin through my frozen jeans. When I pick any of them up, the purring is deafening. 

The horses seem to appreciate my efforts even more than usual at this time of the year. They are more patient as I gather their grain, and more orderly moving to their respective feed areas. It is as if they know I had an option to stay inside the warm house.  The hens are the first to tell me that the cold weather merits more food, especially the oats they love so much.  They follow me back and forth through the barn until I allow them their morning portion of chicken scratch. The bunnies are motionless as I look for signs of breathing, each one perched under their heat lamp, only willing to move if I toss in some yummy dried fruit or a carrot. Mui Mui the female cat has taken to sitting with JoJo the bunny under her heat lamp and while they know the rumors this may cause, the two girls seem contented to share heat and bear the burden of the barnyard talk.

Yes, my time in the barn on days like these is short.  I yearn for the long visits during the spring thaw and the fall harvest time.  But I have to be honest in saying that this time, while more uncomfortable at best, is to me far more meaningful than the times when the air is dry and warm and the earth is in bloom. 

These are the times that test my inner suburban girl and bring forth the toughened farm wife from my soul.  These moments make the easy time even sweeter, yet they are still sweet in and of themselves.  For during these days I am the center of the world for my animals in the barn.  No foraging for themselves through the frozen tundra.  They need me.  If I did not attend to their water, the frozen pond would not spring forth refreshment for them. If the hay was not brought down, no green grass would appear for their pleasure. I am needed.

I appreciate that some of you might think this is a sacrifice, why do it? Board your horses else where, buy eggs from the store, why do you need a bunny anyway? But for me, I see this as a great honor. I have been given the blessing of these animals, entrusted in my care, sharing their best with me during the “easy” times, how could I not repay them by being with them during the “difficult” times? 

They look to me for their sustenance, they have faith that I will come back in the morning or evening and feed them again, just as I have faith that my father in heaven will feed, clothe, and bless me again. His timing may be later than I’d hoped, the food different than I thought, but everyday his blessings are anew, his grace is anew.  May you know how loved you are during the warm seasons of your life and during the moments that look like a vast tundra.