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.

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.