Spring!

 Spring!

Spring has begun to rear it's head on the farm!! This winter was the hardest and felt like the longest since moving to the farm, I am so excited to see glimpses of the rebirth spring brings each day. Yesterday I noticed that for the first time this year, the Buff Orpington chickens were up at the house again. They were foraging through the leaves and leftover snow for any bit of food they could find. When I walked outside my front door, they ran up to me (not kidding, ran!) as if to say they’d missed our daily visits on the steps since the fall. For me this is a stronger sign of spring than if a dozen Robins were in the trees! I'm not sure who is more excited that spring has sprung; me or the chickens. Spring is here!

 Momma kitty in the barn is as round as can be with babies who are due any day. Our last duck egg hatched in the incubator 2 days ago, so we will end the hatching season with 8 healthy Khaki Campbell ducks! One of our Hen’s has taken up residence in the goat pen and has gathered 4 eggs under her. If all goes well, she will be the mother to several baby chicks in the next week or so. Spring is here!

The snow melt has reaped havoc in the barn and flooding this time of year is the norm. Chicks and Ducks from this year's hatch are still living in large pens in my son's bathroom as the temperature ups and downs make it too risky to move them out into the barn yet.  But the baby chicks are starting to get their adult feathers, a sure fire sign that they will soon move to their permanent residence in the barn, and act that always brings a smile and a sigh of relief to my husband’s face! Spring is here!

During the stillness of the Winter I took a lot of time to reflect on life here and before we moved to the farm. Reading back over prior posts it occurred to me how much I’ve learned and how awesome this experience has been for me and the whole family. But I also noticed a lot of struggle and even a lot of death experiences, most of the animal variety. It made me think about the concept of suffering. Why we have to suffer, what benefit it brings and how we use our times of suffering. In February I lost a friend to Cancer. Not yet having reached her 40^th year on this planet, the loss has been great to me, my other friends and of course her family, including her 11 year old son. It has stopped all of us in our tracks and forced us to look at how we are living our lives. It has reminded us that there are no guarantees and that life in all of its forms is precious. It has hurt and been painful. It has brought those of us she left together, closer, more thankful for life and each other. It has changed us.

For me it is apparent that in the goodness of life we become complacent. I do anyway. Expectations change when all is well. I start to expect that life will continue to be easy or good. When tragedy strikes, it forces me to look hard into my thoughts, words and actions. I’m forced to be deliberately present in my life. I don’t like it, but I need it. I need to struggle to appreciate the “wins” in life. I need to struggle to become a better version of myself, to have empathy for others, to reach out and with honest words day, “I know how you feel”, to fully see, appreciate and thank God for all of my blessings.

I also need to have struggle in my life as I seek to be a valid example of Christ here on earth. Jesus, did no wrong, yet lived a humble, tragic life that changed the direction of spiritual world forever. Whether you believe in him as the Messiah or not, you would be hard pressed to deny his great love for others. In great pain, and taking the ultimate risk of rejection, he loved all people, even those who no one else wanted to acknowledge. Even on the cross he prayed for Father God to forgive the masses for crucifying him. Can you imagine being that loving? Imagine yourself praying a prayer of Thanks Giving for your co-worker who lied about your work to forward their own position, for that kid on the bus who is tormenting your child, imagine thanking God and praying for that person who said those hurtful things about you. Can you or I actually be that loving? I think we must try.

Now, I’m not suggesting I or anyone can be 100% like Jesus, far from it, but it makes me think that any idea of suffering is actually necessary if you are seeking to be like him and that it is only by our wounds and humility that we grow in Christ. Life is difficult, but it is SO wonderful! Challenges make each of us who we are, make us worth wild people for each other. And frankly they show the depth of our faith. A picture that can be painful if, like me, you have a short memory for all that God has done for you.

So as spring approaches you in your life, take a moment to be thankful for the struggle, for all of the “winters” in your life.  If you are able to love others in good times and bad, be thankful. And if this is a challenge for you, then work on flexing your gratitude muscle. Pray for those who have hurt or are hurting you. Show love to the unlovable people around you. Be thankful in all things and I promise you in turn you will have a lot to be thankful for!

Forward

Winter hovers over me this year like none that has come before. My spirit is sad. I knew when we came to the farm, that there would be seasons for everything, Seasons for growth, seasons for change and even seasons for death. I think in the beginning of any adventure it is easy to find energy. The newness of the experience is invigorating. Like discovering a whole new world that you never knew existed. Every day is filled with the wonder of what will happen next. What will grow, who will be born, what will we discover?

When we moved to the farm, I was looking for a change, a major change. I wanted to break free from the slavery of the corporate world and embrace daily God’s creation. I wanted to get my hands dirty and trade in my Chanel earrings for blue jeans and mud boots. I wanted to spend time in nature, digging, planting, birthing and growing.  I wanted my kids to know the value of growing your own food. I wanted them to know people who lived off of the land and what it is to trust God to provide for your needs. 

That is what we have done over the last 4 years since moving to the farm. We cleaned out the old and unused barn. My husband built stalls for future residents and we filled the loft with hay. Chicks arrived and soon after a myriad of animals that needed homes had taken up residency. I never minded the work of morning and evening chores and even took pride in managing them in sub zero temperatures. I was after all, a reformed suburban “princess” and nothing tickled me more then lifelong friends who were awestruck at the baby ducks I had hatched in my laundry room or the fact that my goats followed me to and from the bus stop to meet the kids. This place has blessed my children with wonderful experiences that can only happen when time is taken to smell the roses and the chicken poop!

So why am I restless now? What has happened to curb my enthusiasm on this bleak February evening? This month has been filled with stress and sadness and I know it has taken its toll. A battle with the flu has left my body weak and tired, a loss of my horse has left my spirit crushed and aching. Discord with friends has prompted me to spend too much time wondering what I could have done differently in my relationships and hay and heat costs have left me wondering when we can rebuild our financial safety net. The storm has come and settled over my head.

A long time ago I saw a poster that had a young man with a knapsack over his shoulder looking at road signs pointing down paths in opposite directions. The caption said, “No matter where you go, there you are.” I think about that poster often. Here I am.

I am a starter, I like new experiences. In business, I always thrived in companies who were new or starting over. I never liked companies that were established and only wanted maintenance. I would get bored. I like the unknown, wondering what is around the river bend kind of moments. I love meeting new people and learning about their lives. I enjoy new places and new experiences.

But at some point in every season, maintenance is required. You can not have an amazing orchard if there is never a season of pruning. Firewood for heat or food to eat must be maintained through planting and harvesting. You can’t spend all of your time just putting seeds into the ground, sometimes you must watch and wait for them to grow. You must have patience. I am not patient. Especially when patience is coupled with loss.

The journey of a lifetime begins with a single step. I really relate to that statement, I love taking action, taking a step in a direction. But for some reason, I believe God wants me to master a new set of skills. He wants me to be comfortable with maintaining that which he has given to me. He wants me to evolve to a place of comfort with “sameness”. To be comfortable doing laundry while knowing it will need to be done again tomorrow or to embrace cooking a meal for my family only to do it again a few hours later. I come from a place of accomplishment, getting rewarded for completing goals and I think this has hindered my growth in the area of peace. No one will give me an award for the most laundry done in a single evening. I may have created a chef inspired meal and the most I can hope for is clean plates.  So why do this? Why spend time doing those mundane things? Why not revisit the professional world that I left behind where I can be recognized on a regular basis for my efforts?

I’ll tell you why, because my life is meant to be different  than that. Because what I do each day to meet the minimum needs of my family is more miraculous than any “high point” award I ever received at work. Because the corporate world will swallow up whatever space I leave in it with in an instant of my departure. Because for the majority of the world at large, living through each day and seeing a new sunrise is a miracle of perseverance. Because the road less traveled is not always comfortable or easy. Most importantly it is because God commands us to be good stewards of all in this life that he bestows upon us.  Does knowing this make it easier for me to be patient? To have a day, week or month where nothing is new or exciting? Does this knowledge make it more manageable when I feel restless, hurt or sad? Nope, it doesn’t. But it does force me to my knees. It forces me to get beyond my feelings and seek out God’s grace and to place his hand on my emotions. It forces me to trust that in all that God does, he does it for my good. It challenges me to seek him in the discomfort.

I think at those moments when we are most desperate, most fearful, most tired, that we are also at the closest point to a breakthrough, a miracle even. If  I can breathe my way into the next day, make it through the next pile of clothes, the next meal, I am confident that a miracle awaits me on the other side. But, if I give into my emotions, let my tired body take on a negative attitude, do the minimum versus the maximum in all that I undertake I fall short of that bliss that I yearn for, that completion.

With that said, I leave you to go and turn some duck eggs in the incubator, feed our 4 week old chicks and put away the bread I have just finished baking at 9PM. After that, I will spend time focusing on all of the blessing that were brought to me today. A loving family, a good job for my husband, Chickens that turn grain into beautiful eggs, wood to make a fire and friends who are there to hear my cries when I am not strong. All of this and God’s promise that he will never abandon me, in any season, encourages me to take another step….forward.

Blessed!

As Christmas approaches and 2012 draws to a close I like many of you are finding myself ever reflecting on the time that has come and gone. Recent events in our world at large have only served to further that desire to remember what is dear.

This year my six year old daughter started riding her horse on her own, and I now know what it feels like to let your heart take a walk outside of your body as mine did when she turned her pony away from me and set off on her own. I'm quite sure it was one of those moments meant to prepare me for the future times ahead when she will leave my side to forge new paths...It is an interesting paradox to be so excited and so terrified at the same time.

I love learning about new things and this year I spent a lot of time learning about Poultry! Yes, I knew a little bit before, but new opportunities were given to me to become far more versed in this topic. From leading several 4H workshops about the topic, to even being a judge at the Sibley County Fair, it seems as though I am meant to be an expert. I had to giggle when an employee at the 4H office recently referred to me as the "Chicken Lady!", talk about a change from the past when my best known asset was my affinity for CHANEL!

Last February I took on the daunting task of hatching my own ducklings. What a fun and scary challenge that was! I am really looking forward to hatching more this spring from our trio of Khaki Campbell adult ducks. There is something very special about bringing in new life to the world, even if it is just a duck! This next year we will be expanding our flock to include Pekin ducks and Pilgrim Geese! We will also be adding meat chickens to our current group of laying hens. My husband has started to hone his butchering skills, and we are finding ourselves wanting to be more self sufficient in producing what we eat....especially when it tastes SO much better than the meat in the store! Just don't expect a steer to show up in our pasture, there are other farmers who are WAY better at that species for us to buy from!

I could spend hours retelling all of the fun adventures we have had this year, and as I face 2013, I will try to be more timely in doing that with all of you!  But for now, I will leave you with my Christmas wish for all of you.

 I wish for each of you to spend each day doing what you love with those whom you love. I wish for you to see the wonder of God's world around you in the birds of the air and the critters on the ground as you go through your everyday. I wish for your to always see God's blessings in even the most difficult of times, and that others see God in the blessings you bestow onto them. I wish for the Peace that surpasses your understanding and your circumstances to be ever present each day for you. I wish that you may always feel God's touch on your life. I wish for you to know that although I don't know each of you personally, that I appreciate the few moments you have taken to read my words and take a peek into this little life God has bestowed on me and my family. I hope it is as much of a blessing to you reading about it as it is to me living and writing about it.

God's Blessings to all of you!
Eleanor

The best Syrup for pancakes, french toast, angel food 

cake or even over ice cream is Buttermilk Syrup. 

It is very easy to make and SO good!! Give it a try !

BUTTERMILK SYRUP
1 1/2 c. sugar 3/4 c. buttermilk 1/2 c. butter 2 tbsp. Karo syrup (light) 1 tsp. soda 2 tbsp. vanilla Mix all ingredients, except vanilla, in a deep pan. Bring to a boil; boil 7 minutes. Stir occasionally. Remove from heat, add vanilla. Store in refrigerator. Heat before serving. Excellent over ice cream or pancakes, waffles or French toast.

Intervention

Several years ago my most favorite guilty pleasure was watching the television show “Intervention”. I was always excited to see people go from the depths of despair to a full life of hope and healing. Most often, that is what would happen. The show would chronicle the life of an addict, an intervention would take place, recovery and then a reunion and update at the end. On occasion the addict would choose not to go to or to leave treatment early and the result was an unhappy ending.

Recent events at the farm and the current heated political environment have got me thinking about other forms of intervention. On Mothers Day, my friend called me while I was out lunching with my mom and sister. One of the young barn cats, 7months old, had just given birth and they had found 5 babies in 3 different areas of the barn. The mom was not interested in feeding a couple of the babies, so they had taken the one that was in the worst shape with them and were driving to the feed store to buy some kitten formula. Upon hearing the news, we cut our outing short and I returned to the farm.

Over the next few days I would spend countless hours trying to entice the mom to nurse her babies, for those she would not nurse I was bottle feeding them. The mom would randomly move the kittens around the hayloft and I would struggle to get to them when they would cry for food. Slowly and one by one they started to die. After the first two deaths, I took the remaining 3 kittens into the house.  They were very sick with pneumonia and were struggling to breathe. I spent the next two weeks medicating, feeding, and cleaning the kittens. Two more would suffer deaths by suffocation as I could not get a handle on the illness. At one point, I was holding a dying kitten begging my husband to help me end its life as it was suffering so much. My husband refused to help me saying, “You got involved, you have to see this thing through.”  He was right. I had gotten involved. I had chosen to interrupt the nature of life for these kittens. Had I made a good decision? After two more kittens had passed and I had spent countless hours researching feline illness and talking with the Carver Scott humane society, I had one kitten that was thriving. She was doing great! She was eating, sleeping, breathing, pooping and playing with my kids. For 3 weeks she thrived.

Then out of nowhere, she choked on something. Food, litter, I don’t know, but within a matter of minutes of my return from a baseball game, she was dead.  I had fed her right before I left, and she was fine and only three breaths after I picked her up on my return and she was dead.  Really!?!? Why did this happen?  I could only sit and stare at her thinking about the number of hours we had spend giving her care and attention, only to have her die too. 

In the hours that followed, I tried to make sense of all that we had gone through. I kept coming back to the same question, “Should I have gotten involved?” Should I have just left the kittens in the barn and let nature take its course? The end result was the same. What difference had it made?

In my quiet moments, the whisper I heard in response was this, “The end result was in fact the same, but the journey was very different.” These kittens died in our arms, not on a cold barn floor. They felt warmth and love, and kindness and kisses. They experienced the love and giggles of children who marveled at their existence. They were not alone.

As I listen to the world around me and hear people’s ideology about when to help others and in what manner, I am always stunned by those who don’t want to “get involved” in “taking care” of others. Those who believe they have it all figured out and know exactly how we and our government should or should not help our fellow citizens. Aid, or no aid, welfare, or no welfare, I have no idea as to what we should or should not do. But I do know this. Regardless of the outcome, the world at large is better when we unite and create a community around those who are suffering, sick or in need.  So title me however you want politically, but as for me, I will always choose to get involved. I believe that is what God wants us to do.

How time has flied and Spring is now Summer! Here's a quick update on the goings on here at the farm.

The ducks have moved several times since the bathroom and right now I have to keep the females and males separate as they need to look their best for the County Fair in August. We have 6 females and all seem to be laying!  Our little chickens are also footloose and fancy free in the barn with all of the other hens. Except for 2 roosters who are in their own pen as they were pulling feathers out of the upcoming show birds....

 The goats have been doing fine and we are looking to make a summer paddock for them so they can have more time grazing. Stitch managed to find a tack in his stall so I got to get up to speed on goat first aid 101. Luckily for us they are both getting better about us handling them.

 (Hanging out with Lilo!)

 We had 2 litters of kittens born already this summer, the first was with the barn momma and did just great as you can see from the pictures. The second was from one of the young females and unfortunately she rejected all 5 of them. One after another they died as we tried tirelessly to get her to nurse and feed them with tiny bottles of kitten formula. One still remains and is now 4 weeks old! She is looking great and seems to be quite healthy!

(Baby kittens!)


Lauren is having a blast with her little silkie chick she aptly called "Pumpkin". She is planning on showing her at the County fair in August.

 Dan butchered the first of our Market birds and I have to say we are hooked! They were super yummy and I was even able to get over the whole raising what you eat issue. Dan is planning to build a portable chicken tractor so we can raise about a dozen more this summer and fill the freezer this fall.

 (Lauren is protecting Pumpkin from the slaughter!)

Last month we put our horse Cheval down as his feet were just falling apart. It was a hard decision, but the best choice for him. We knew the time had come when he was choosing to lay down more than graze. Our herd is smaller but still a barrel of fun as we start Summer.

Noelle continues to struggle to gain weight, I swear I wish I had this mare's metabolism. I continue to play with all sorts of options to get her to eat more, but when she is done, she's done. Here are a few recent pictures of her. She was in her first show last month and placed 3rd out of 4. We were so thrilled just to have her go into the ring without incident!

I will try to be better about getting some more official posts going. There is SO much I want to share and these amazing animals teach me so much everyday. God is good and we are so blessed to have the opportunity to care for his creation! Blessings!

Duck

As of today I have 14 ducks in my bathroom. Yes, in my bathroom.  Did they escape from the barn? No, they were born in the laundry room! This year we have decided to hatch our own ducklings for the kids to show at the county fair. So in November, I borrowed an incubator from the 4H office and started to collect eggs from our trio of Khaki Campbell ducks.

Since the babies we show at the fair have to be born after January 1, I knew I needed to test run the incubator….I had no idea how stressful hatching poultry would turn out to be! After several weeks of no progress with our eggs, I finally had 2 eggs that showed some progression down the developmental path. Their hatching date was set for December 6^th and I was anxiously awaiting their arrival.

As with all births, the actuality of ducklings hatching is not like it appears on TV. I thought a few taps and out would pop this lovely creature all perky and cute….kind of how I had pictured birth before any of my 4 children had been born.

The reality is a stark contrast. The process of hatching poultry is slow and scary….a day or so before your duckling is going to hatch; you start to hear what is called peeping. This is a soft little voice that is fully audible outside of the egg, even if no hole is yet visible. The first time I happened to hear this I thought that a bird had flown down my dryer vent! Then the laborious task of this critter actually escaping out of the egg begins. This portion can take up to 48 hours and I must confess that I found it nearly as hard to wait for the little birds to pop out as it was when I was delivering my own kids;(Minus the need for pain killing drugs of course.)

And when they finally get out, they are gross! Covered in goodness knows what, thrashing about over the other eggs as they try to get their legs under them, their necks are all twisted after being in a space ½ their length for 28 days. And let’s be clear that there is an umbilical cord…..I’ll just leave it at that…. But after 24 hours of warm air, these little critters are the picture book version of cuteness.

As I mentioned I had 2 eggs set to hatch that first date. Only one actually made it to term and hatched. So after her 24 hours in the incubator I moved her to the next home, a large water trough filled with old towels, food and water and a warm lamp filling it with warmth. And there my little duck sat, alone until more would hatch.

During those first few weeks, and most every night since, I take her out and let her sit on my lap in the living room. I would take a large towel and place it under her as she sat on my shoulder or chest. No, she was not and is not potty trained, so yes, this is not for those with weak constitutions or stomachs…..She loves to preen my ears and neck and now as she is almost full grown, I often have to remind her that my nose is just fine with out her help.

The kids and I take her out when we are playing games and she will sit with us on the dining room table. She is especially fond of playing with the spinner from “Chutes and Ladders” and frankly she’s quite good at getting you the number you need. I enjoy seeing the reaction I get when I bring her out during evening with friends and showing her to kids and adults alike. She stands so proud and preens herself, cleaning and straightening each feather. She likes to say hello to visitors by preening their hands, but don’t try to pick her up, she’s still a duck and doesn’t sit with just anyone. When I go into the bathroom to attend to the ducks, she greets me at the edge of the trough with a look of, “Can I come out and play?” She is part of our family and I will miss her presence when she is out with the others in the barn this spring.

I have yet to name her as I believe names for animals have to be inspired and I have yet to feel what she should be called. We have only named one other of our ducks, so I do not feel it is a requirement. But I should like to figure out a name as I have visions of calling out to her in the pasture, as she and the rest of the flock paddle in the pond this summer, and to see her come to me.

The thing I love most about this experience is how once again, God has used a simple animal to teach me something great. In this experience, God has shown me the value of community and time in regards to a relationship.  None of the other 13 ducklings will come to the edge of the tank when I enter the bathroom, just her. Naturally ducks are prey animals and apt to fly away from anything that walks their way, but not this duck. The difference is the time and attention I have given to her. It has made me think about the importance of fostering this same focus on friends and family. Can we really expect that we can have deep, meaningful relationships if we only visit on Birthdays and holidays? When did the business of the world at large become more important than being responsive to the needs of a neighbor?

I realize that many people I know spend more time watching TV in any given timeframe, than they spend reaching out to people around them.  And if not TV, perhaps something else, a craft or hobby….These are not terrible things to fill ones time, and they can be very fulfilling, but do they enhance community or distract you from reaching out to serve others? God created us to live in community. Do we deliberately seek out opportunities to build a great community or do we try to escape the problems that community brings to light? I don’t know, but I really feel God refining my life in the area of community and being present for others. And not just others I know well, but others I encounter during my day.

So, I’m using this little duck as a reminder. If I had chosen to let her sit in the tank alone, she would have survived, food and water are all she needed for that….but would she, and I have thrived?

 Christmas Eve 2011- My Duck

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.