Tag: inspiration

Look Up
Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm

Look Up

My Farmtastic Life2 Comments

This thing going on in our world can result in an emotional rollercoaster.  And this rollercoaster has room for all of us. No height requirement necessary.

For me, this week was tough. My emotions poured out of me in a million little ways. I teared up at the sound of a treasured song. I smiled at the many acts of kindness taking place in our small town. I was filled with gratitude that Cowboy and I both still have jobs, a home, and groceries for us and our zoo. I got stressed over a work project. I missed hugging my family members. I felt guilty for being in an okay place when I know folks who are not. I felt happy when I was able to share and to help others. I got lost in nature. Up and down, left and right, I rode this roller coaster in the front seat with my hands in the air screaming, laughing, and crying. 

Here’s the thing.  This pandemic has changed our world. It’s changed us.  Every single one of us. But we don’t yet fully know how much and to what extent. There has been loss for everyone –  freedoms to move about as we please, pay and jobs, a sense of security, and worst of all the loss of neighbors, friends, and loved ones.  And yet there has been so much goodness as unsung heroes have emerged to keep us all moving forward.  I’m looking at you healthcare workers, first responders, truck drivers, and grocery store workers.

It’s one big, beautiful terrifying messy life right now. 

And for so many of us, it’s also the time to celebrate Easter or Passover or simply the arrival of spring.  It looks different this year. There are no fields filled with laughing children chasing down Easter eggs. There are no churches brimming with Easter bonnets as parishioners sit shoulder to shoulder. There are no tables set for extended family gatherings centered around a favorite meal. 

I was telling a dear friend of mine that when I go for walks through our pastures, I often walk with my head down because I am staring at my feet.  I do this because I’m incredibly clumsy, so it’s purely for self preservation (of my knees and my dignity). And she said to me, “Don’t forget to look up.”

Look up my friends. Even in times of loss and sadness and confusion there are reasons for hope. There is love. There is kindness. There are doggy kisses and flowers blooming. There is prayer and meditation. There is goodness in this world. There is each of you.  

So in these trying times, when emotions have become theme park rides, and clumsy feet seek steady ground, may we all find a moment to look up.

Featured image (heart in hands) © simona – stock.adobe.com.  Standard license.

My Farmtastic Life - Grocery Shopping Has Never Been Sweeter Grocery Shopping Has Never Been Sweeter
Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm

Grocery Shopping Has Never Been Sweeter

My Farmtastic LifeLeave a comment

I’m a bit of a weirdo. I actually enjoy grocery shopping. I like to wander the aisles for recipe ideas, get drawn in by pretty packages, and fill my cart with new finds.  I am my father’s daughter when it comes to this. We are both store aisle wanderers.  

Cowboy, on the other hand, is all about efficiency and says it is decidedly cheaper and faster when he goes it alone. The man sticks to the list (can you imagine???), and well it’s hard to argue when someone volunteers to do a chore.

But grocery shopping has changed in this time of the COVID-19 pandemic.  I’ve only left the farm twice in as many or more weeks. The first time, Cowboy and I went to get provisions to ensure our critters and parents were well fed.  I’m glad I wasn’t alone, because I was incredibly distracted by the surreal nature of it all. Shelves half stocked, favorite items nowhere to be found, and busy stockers putting things out as fast as they were flying off of the shelves.  

I walked through the big box store wide eyed and holding my breath.  I’m pretty sure I didn’t observe all of the social distancing rules, not because I wasn’t trying, but because I was simply in awe. In all of my forty plus years, I’ve been lucky enough to go to the grocery store and buy whatever I needed, and 99 percent of the time, whatever I wanted.  That this is a privilege is not lost on me.

The second trip out was to our small town grocer, and was planned for this weekend. To prep for the store, I sat at the kitchen table surrounded by my recipes  and cookbooks, and made a menu. I looked for things that could make use of what we already had in the freezer and could also be repurposed for multiple meals. Could a cooked ham on Sunday mean ham and potato soup or a ham salad later in the week? Most definitely.  I needed to use the resources we had wisely, not just for me but for everyone else, too.  We are all sharing these precious resources, and the old phrase, “waste not, want not” kept surfacing in my mind. 

Come Saturday morning, off to the store I went, just me, myself and the list. (Cowboy and I wanted to limit the number of people in the store for everyone’s health and safety.)  And while I was a bit more prepared for what I might see, I found myself with thoughts that had never occurred to me before: how quickly can I get in and out, do I wipe down all of the cart or just the handles, what path should I take through the store, should I start with things like eggs or canned goods, what time does the store open for the general public?

Wipe in hand, I diligently went up and down the aisles.  Stopping to allow someone to pass. Standing back and waiting my turn to choose veggies or go down a particular aisle.  Glancing and smiling at my fellow store goers as we all had tentative looks on our faces, unsure exactly how to behave in these unprecedented times, our deeply rooted southern hospitality at odds with this strange reality.  Making sure to adhere to store management requests to limit critical items like soups, breads, meats, dairy, and leaving those things that I did not need for others who may need them. I even chuckled to myself when a lone box of plant butter stood on the shelf that normally housed dozens of butter options. I guess even a pandemic can’t make some things palatable. 

I filled up my cart with more than enough to take care of my family for two plus weeks.  

I stood on the black X on the floor, six feet away from the next person in line, waiting to check out.  As I stood there, I was awash in sheer gratitude. Cowboy and I still have our jobs. We can still get what we need.  The farm critters,  our families and dear friends,  are all safe and well.

And then I got to the cashier. Behind newly installed plexiglass, we chatted away. He was friendly and jovial. He talked about his new baby on the way. About how many hours he’d been working, and what he’d do if he ended up as the only one in his household who could work. My emotions welled up, as I thanked him for all he was doing.  He shrugged it off as no big deal.

The grocery manager, who I’ve seen dozens of times often over the years, greeted me with a tired smile.  I asked how he was and he shared he’s worked 190 hours over the last two weeks. I have no idea how that feels. More thanks came tumbling out of me.

I paid, grateful to these workers who were doing so much for me, for my family.  I pushed my cart to the car, and the teenage bag-boy rushed over to help me load (social distance style, of course) and take the cart back in the store (because yes, we still do that in small towns).  He, too, was tired but smiling. Sharing how he had been given official papers that would allow him to go back and forth to work in the case that things continued to shut down even more. I could not utter enough thank yous.  Like the clerk, he shrugged it off, more worried about people being able to be tested and protecting his grandparents.

Humbled.  Simply humbled.

On the way home, I dropped off a few things on my parents’ porch.  I stood back as we blew air kisses and gave ourselves virtual hugs. And then I talked about the grocery workers, and I stood there and cried.  Tears streaming down my face as I was overcome with gratitude. For the people who are getting up every day and doing their jobs so that life can go on.  People who still have time to share a story, lend a hand, offer a smile. To every single one of them, thank you!

Grocery shopping has never been sweeter.

P.S. Thank yous matter.  When you have to venture out for necessities, please pass along oodles of gratitude.  Beautifully, gratitude and kindness are unlimited resources.

Featured image (grocery cart) © Have a nice day – stock.adobe.com.  Standard license.

Grizzly the Cat Watches Hallmark Yule Log Why We Love Hallmark
Farmtastic Faves · Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm

Why We Love Hallmark

My Farmtastic LifeLeave a comment

When I was growing up, Hallmark was the store where you bought the BEST cards, and like the old slogan said, you’d send a Hallmark card when you cared enough to send the very best.  When I would hand my mom, a woman who quite frankly prefers cards over gifts, an envelope with the tell-tale gold crown seal, she would smile and say, “Oh, it’s a Hallmark!”

Hallmark Ornament - Chocolate Moose
Chocolate Moose, a Hallmark ornament from 2007, and one of our farm faves. He gets a prime spot on the tree each year to show off his movable dangly legs.

After Cowboy and I got married, Hallmark became known in our house as the purveyor of our favorite Christmas ornaments.  He’d get the car, tractor, or airplane series, while I’d get the Winnie the Pooh or whimsical animal characters.  When our tree is covered in these memories and reminders of childhood, hobbies, and dreams, it is transformed into my absolute favorite Christmas tradition. Heck, we’ve gathered so many ornaments over the years they even have their own box for storage. (And no, that doesn’t mean we have enough. And yes, I still buy new ones every year.)

Today, Hallmark is best known for TV, Hallmark Channel and Hallmark Movies and Mysteries specifically.  While they’re most famous for turning out oodles of Christmas movies, they also make movie magic with made-for-TV series, cozy mysteries, and other seasonal flicks.  And if you’ve watched even a couple of these movies, you inevitably know how they will turn out.  Happily!  There seems to be a delightful formula to it all:

  • Woman has important city life/job aspirations/family business. Bonus points for chef, writer, professor, flower shop owner, or decorator jobs.
  • Woman’s life gets interrupted by family or job opportunity/obligations/loss. Bonus points for family inns, bakeries, and tree farms.
  • Woman travels to scenic small town/village/farm to address said challenge.  Bonus points if the woman is already there and the opportunity comes to her.
  • Woman runs into old flame/new flame, and is rarely thrilled about it at the beginning. Bonus points if woman has existing flame she must extinguish.
  • Woman finds her true meaning by following her career passion and also learns to view the guy in a new light and they live happily ever after.  Bonus points if children, dogs, or cats come with the package.

I’m sure the writers would tell you that it’s definitely more complicated than that, and I have no doubt that it is. Heaven knows, no one has been able to replicate their special magic, and criticizing someone else’s art and creation is not my jam.  But why are we so drawn in when we know how it will end?  From the opening scenes of charming downtown shops, cityscapes, and country vistas, we are hooked. We know that two hours later, crisis will be averted, hearts will be happy, and the future will be bright.

That’s the magic.  In a world that can feel crazy, sometimes our hearts just want to escape to a place where things will be okay.  We’re living in a time that can feel especially vulnerable with quarantined family and friends, stores and restaurants closed, and fear and uncertainty easy to find in large doses. Sitting down with a cozy blanket, a cup of tea, and a Hallmark movie (or 12), could be just what your heart needs.

So hats off to Hallmark this weekend for re-running some of their best-loved Christmas movies, with their We Need a Little Christmas Movie Marathon.  Christmas is known as the season of giving, so during what are unprecedented times, let’s make sure that we fill our hearts up with love over fear, check on our neighbors (virtually of course, social distancing rules apply), share what we can, and remember that this too will pass.  And most importantly, when it does may we all be better for it. (Oh, and please wash your hands!)

P.S.  If you’re like me and love a good list checking app, Hallmark has you covered. Through the Hallmark app you can  make lists of what you want to see, get reminders for airings you don’t want to miss, and keep count of how many movies you’ve watched (which trust me, can quickly become A LOT.)

P.P.S. It’s hard to find a Hallmark store these days, but if you can find one, it’s absolutely worth it and you will be delighted. You simply can’t help but smile as you roam the aisles filled with heartfelt and funny cards, colorful home accessories, and unique treasures that make the perfect gifts.

P.P.P.S. This is not an advertisement and no money, gifts, or favors were exchanged in return for this post.

Barking to the Choir - The Power of Radical Kinship Farmtastic Faves – Barking to the Choir
Farmtastic Faves · Farmtastic Reads

Farmtastic Faves – Barking to the Choir

My Farmtastic Life1 Comment

This farmgirl loves a good book – whether that book makes you laugh, cry, refreshes your soul, dances with your imagination, or teaches you a history lesson.  Books are just the bees knees.  We’ve had our Farmtastic Faves section for a while, and we think it desperately needs a Farmtastic Reads section.  So in an effort to share one of my absolute all time favorite things – STORIES – here goes.

First up in the Farmtastic Reads category …

Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship – Gregory Boyle

I must admit, up until about a year ago, the chances of me making it through any nonfiction book were slim to none.  For years, my reading was limited to mystery fiction, and I wasn’t really open to exploring much else.  It was my guilty pleasure. Last year, a wise soul turned me onto Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, then Love Wins by Rob Bell, and well my bookshelves – virtual and real – are so much broader, deeper, and richer for it.

With my reading horizons expanded, I’ve found that I am usually reading a book or five (thank you Kindle), and in that mix is always something that speaks to the broader sense of humanity, spirituality, and the divine.  On the recommendation of a friend on Instagram, I added Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship to my list.

Filled with engaging, uplifting, and at times gut wrenching stories of men and women coming out of gang life and into the fullness of seeing their own value and divinity, Gregory Boyle, a Jesuit Priest affectionately known as Father G, reaches straight into the heart of our shared humanity.  He deftly weaves his personal observations and experiences with lessons that we can all take to heart.

You know it’s a good book when you and your highlighter become besties as you try to soak up every last nugget of truth, hoping that just a tiny bit of the goodness you are experiencing will stick to your core.

Father G doesn’t mince words.  He sheds the formality and the perfection facade common in many religious circles and writings, not afraid of using strong language and slang to make his point, and to simply remind us all of the realness and the emotion of life.  Father G strips away the sterileness that modern Christianity can often be wrapped in, and shares the gritty truth about trauma, loss, and hope.  In short, he takes us back to the original story of Jesus – connectedness and kindness, compassion and love.

My emotions ran the gamut while reading this book. At one point, so moved by a former gang member’s story of loss and redemption that I found myself crying. At other times laughing out loud at the sheer smart and witty dialogue of these former gang members who were coming to see the beauty of their true selves, often for the first time.

You’ll also get a feel (or more accurately all the feels) for Homeboy Industries, started by Father G in 1988 as an answer to the question, ““Can we improve the health and safety of our community through jobs and education rather than through suppression and incarceration?”1

Barking to the Choir is a neon reminder that we  make it far too easy to write off the other in our world – the gang member, the mentally ill, the poor.  We’ve come to believe everything is a simple choice, while forgetting the impact of heartbreak, trauma, and fear on the human spirt .  That we are all fragile, and strength comes in our kinship, in our ability to see and be seen for who we really are. Father G puts these truths front and center and reminds us all that we are the choir.

This is Father G’s second book, and believe you me within an hour of finishing this one, I  ordered his first one, Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion.  Come on Amazon Prime speedy delivery, this farmgirl has some soulful reading to do!

1 – History of Homeboy Industries

Featured image Amazon.

 

 

 

 

Independence in the Middle - why we all need to take one giant step toward the middle. Independence In the Middle
Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm

Independence In the Middle

My Farmtastic LifeLeave a comment

As we celebrated our nation’s Independence Day last week, I was struck by the beauty that happens when we all take a break from being so staunchly in our respective corners and join each other hand in hand in the middle. Stars and stripes. Parades and fireworks. Sunshine and barbecues. For a moment, with all of our beautiful differences, we were one.

And then it was July 5.

More than ever, we are in love with being outraged. We argue about immigration, tariffs, guns, the economy, religion. If there is a side to be had, we will find it. We have become amazingly adept at drawing lines and determining who is in and who is out. We see it on the right and on the left. No one is immune.

Where is the middle?

Conversations about meaningful and important topics have become difficult because we go into them having already determined that we are right and that the other side is wrong. While we might ask, “Why do you think that?”, all too often we have stopped listening and are ready to pounce with our rebuttal before the question has left our lips.

Trust me, I know this is not easy. Especially when both sides feel like they have so very much at stake. But the real beauty is in the middle. In trying to understand why someone feels disenfranchised or left behind. In trying to understand why someone is adamant about their position on open borders or immigration reform.

We all come from a distinct point of view that is formed by our experiences, our environments, our tribe. And we can’t all be right, which also means, hilariously enough, that  we can’t all be wrong. So how in the world do we move forward?

We all take one giant step toward the middle.

I think back to my school days and remember the dreaded group project. Oh my stars, I cannot stress how much I absolutely detested group projects. In this crazy exercise, we each had to do our part to succeed. Torture, sheer torture.

Inevitably, I would volunteer (ahem … demand) to take on much more than my share because I just knew if I trusted others that the project would go south and my grade would suffer. But let’s just call it what it was, I was terrified of losing control.

Some folks in my class loved having me as a partner; it meant less work for them. Others, I’m sure, were not so thrilled as we vied for control. But how much more would I have learned if we collectively shared our work and our ideas?  How much more meaningful would those relationships have been with my classmates if I had taken a step toward the middle?

And if in the end we had gotten a B, or heaven forbid a C, instead of an A, what would I have really lost? Imagine if if in my compromise I had gained knowledge, friendship, and let go of some stress in the process. Success isn’t always an A. (And yes my overachiever self has had to work years to come to this place.)

I see our love of taking sides in a similar way. We all want control. We all want to be right. And when we think that’s in danger, we retreat to our corners mad as hornets. Here’s the deal, I know the problems facing our world and our country are not simple. Congress is in gridlock, we’re marching in the streets every month for some new injustice, and we have become professionals at being outraged.

But in the end, if we’re honest, outrage is easy. And quite frankly, exhausting. Action is so much harder. Listening is harder, yet. The first move is taking one step toward the middle. Having real conversations with your neighbors. Understanding the deep down why of their beliefs. Finding just one little thing you can agree on and then building from there. Maybe even find a joint cause and volunteer together. It’s amazing how you will see the heart of another when you are giving back shoulder to shoulder.

We are not all going to get what we want. It’s impossible. But together we can embrace a little of that Independence Day spirit every day, when we find our common ground and move forward, one step at a time.

Featured image © MNStudio – stock.adobe.com.  Standard license.

 

How a chance encounter in the grocery story and a discussion about a heat wave changed my perspective. Read more at www.myfarmtasticlife.com Heat Wave Wisdom
Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm

Heat Wave Wisdom

My Farmtastic Life2 Comments

The other day, I was in the grocery store chatting it up as I was waiting in line.  The conversation inevitably turned to the weather and the impending, much-earlier-than-normal heat wave. When the lady in front of me said with a smile, “It’s going to drive up my electric bill.  It’s going to be tough, but we’ll make it work.”

It was a seemingly innocent statement, but it stuck with me.  Yes, I know that the more you have to run the air conditioner the higher the electric bill. (Trust me, I know August is when the meter runs constantly.)  But there was something simpler, more earnest in her statement.

She was having to consciously think about choices. How much does she run the air conditioner?  How much will her bill be? What would she have to trade in order to get the amount of cool, comfortable air she’d need?  Would she have to work extra shifts to cover the unexpected expense from an early heat wave? Was this a sign that her entire summer would cost her more?

We continued chatting about the upcoming weekend, the glorious freedom of a Saturday without plans, and then just like that we went our separate ways.  But it’s been nearly a week, and I’m still thinking about her.

I’m also thinking about my own situation.  That a heat wave is more of a nuisance and less of financial hurdle.  And then I think about all of the other seemingly mundane things that I do on a regular basis.

I fill up  my car with gas, buy groceries, turn the air conditioner down to frigid to sleep, take the critters to the vet.  I don’t stop to wonder if I should fill up the car all the way. I don’t weigh out what I should and shouldn’t’ buy at the grocery store, although Cowboy would tell you it’s so much cheaper when I stick to the list. I just do what I need to do.

And then it hits me, all of this day-to-day living that I don’t have to think about is a gift.  Sure, Cowboy and I work hard, but so do most people I know. Working hard is not a guarantee. It’s not a free pass from thinking about the little things.  

Don’t get me wrong, Cowboy and I have to make a budget and live within our means.  We talk about things like how much money gas costs or what we should budget for necessary house maintenance or how much hay the horses will eat in a year.  But we don’t have to make hard choices like having enough to eat versus melting in the hot Texas sun.

I am reminded that we live in a community of amazing and diverse people. And sometimes there are those amongst us that need a hand, and we should be willing and able to give it.  It can be as simple as picking up a few extra canned goods at the grocery and donating them to your local food bank, or leaving an extra nice tip for a waitress who is working her tail off to serve you.  It’s things like checking on your elderly neighbors and just spending a few minutes of time to make sure they are okay and to show that you care.

We’re all in this life together, and sometimes it just takes the simplest sentence in the grocery store line to give us the reminder we need, to jolt us out of our comfort zone. If we will just walk around with our eyes wide open, we will find so many ways to share, care, and give.  And you just never know when that simplest act of kindness can change someone’s day or even their life.

Featured image © Cherries – stock.adobe.com.  Standard license.

My Farmtastic Life - Gratitude What’s in a Word?
Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm

What’s in a Word?

My Farmtastic Life4 Comments

As we welcome November and the promise of cooler weather, turkey leftovers, and family gatherings, we also enter the official spokes-month for gratitude.  A time when we take a personal inventory of all that we are grateful for – from people to things, jobs to homes, children to critters.  All of us have something to be thankful for, even in our darkest moments, and for many of us we can swell up with a feeling of being blessed.

But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this word blessed.  No doubt it’s trending right now – you can find it on everything from dish towels to picture frames.  And it’s a perfectly good word.  But it’s also a word that I think we sometimes get mixed up with grateful.

You see, blessed is a passive word, whereas grateful is an active word.  Someone gives you a blessing, but you have to take an action to be grateful.  Being grateful is a decision.  We are fond of saying that God has blessed us.  And trust me, I wholeheartedly believe He has, but maybe just not in the way we think.

Now if you feel like I’m on the edge of blasphemy here, please stick with me. I promise this will turn out okay.  

Let’s say you have a beautiful home and a good job.  It’s easy to say, “I’m so blessed.”  But here’s the flip side.  Is the person who lost their job not blessed?  The person who is working two jobs just to make ends meet less blessed?  

Or think about how often you’ve heard the phrase, “I’m blessed with good health.”  Great, but does that mean the person who has cancer is not blessed?  That they somehow incurred wrath from somewhere?

I can hear you thinking, “No way.  That’s not what I meant at all.”  

And I’m with you.  What we really mean is that we are grateful for our homes, our jobs, our health.  And we would never want our gratitude to be confused for the belief that we have somehow received divine preference over our neighbors.

Blessings are something that we, the collective humanity, share.  Nature and life itself are blessings.  Things we can all enjoy.  I, personally, don’t believe they are doled out to a few, and I don’t believe they always look like we would expect them to.

And while this may seem like a game of semantics, words really do matter. (Yes, I was an English major, so humor me with this one for moment.)  Think about someone whose world is falling apart.  If you are busy talking about your blessings, things that are received, where does that leave them?  It leaves them feeling like they are walking around under a dark cloud, out of sorts, out of favor.

Rather, share your gratitude.  Your zest to acknowledge all that is beautiful, from the smallest to the greatest moments.  Trust me, I am a recovering blessing user myself.  I used to liberally smatter blessings here, there, and everywhere.  But after reading an article about the importance of our words, I realized I was truly filled with gratitude.  I wanted to wish people a beautiful day, a day with at least one moment of happy, and leave blessings to the big guy.

So as you start to make your plans for family dinners, school activities, and get togethers with friends, I encourage you to think about those words that are most meaningful for you and those you love.  How will they impact others?  How can you share your gratitude?  

P.S. A version of this post was published in the Glen Rose Reporter.  This farmgirl is delighted to serve as a community columnist.

My Farmtastic Life - Smokey's Eye Smokey’s Eye
Critter Stories · Farmtastic Stories

Smokey’s Eye

My Farmtastic Life4 Comments

No, this is not a post about smudged eye makeup trends.  It’s about our soft-hearted fella of a horse and his journey back to health.

For those of you who follow us on Facebook and Instagram, back in the spring, you saw pics of our big grey mustang Smokey in the equine (a.k.a. horsey) hospital with an eye injury.  This is his story.

Horses are fun-loving creatures with big personalities, big bodies, and some times they can get themselves into big trouble.  Because we live on a farm with trees and fences and stalls, sometimes these precious babies injury themselves.  And try as you might, you simply just can’t fool-proof your farm.  (I mean, seriously, we’ve got horses who can open gates, but that is for another time.)

One spring evening at feeding time, Smokey moseyed up to his stall as usual for a snack.  But this time, something wasn’t quite right. He had his right eye shut tight, tears streaming down his cheek.

After a little eyelid wrangling, we could see he had something going on with the eyeball itself, and made an after hours call to the vet.  Two things to note here. First, trying to pry open a horse’s eye against his will, oh holy cats that is not easy.  It’s a crazy combination of eyelids of steel and a bobbing head.  Second, as we’ve said before, these things don’t happen between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. Monday through Friday.  Nope, if we are going to injure ourselves, we’re going to do it right. No sense in playing games.

It was quickly determined the next morning that he had, in fact, scratched the eye. Drat!  The remedy?  Eye meds four times a day should do the trick.  Did you see my comment above about strong eyelids?  Well it got to be a game. We’d look out and see him with his eye wide open. He’d see us, and yep, you guessed it, he’d slam it shut.  Quite honestly, he was just tired of us messing with him.

Seven days went by, and the vet came back out and determined that not enough progress was being made.  Smokey was at risk of going blind in that eye. In order to save his vision, he would have to go the horsey hospital where they could put an IV system through his eyelid and dispense medication directly to the eye.  (Oh if I could have reasoned with this big beast and told him what was coming, he may have opened his eyelids big and wide.)

My Farmtastic Life - Smokey the mustang heals from an eye injury
Smokey bending down to sniff and be petted. I sat on the floor of his stall, talking to him.

So off he went.  It was slow going.  And after a week, not only did he still have the eye issue, Smokey decided he didn’t want to eat much and developed a fever.  Not eat?  That horse has never missed a meal.

Here’s the deal. Horses are herd animals, and mustangs especially. Smokey was born in the wild to a herd, and ever since he arrived at the farm he had his band of fellas, one bossy mare, and two ornery donkeys.  Smokey doesn’t leave the farm.  It’s his sanctuary.  He hates change and snorts and blows at anything different just to let you know he’s paying attention. Heck, once our farrier (that’s a horse pedicure giver for our city friends) showed up in a different vehicle, and Smokey was all about letting us know something changed.  He’s observant. To a fault.

So Cowboy and I decided we had to go visit our fella and see if we could help figure out what had him down.  I had the wild idea that maybe if we could bring him a sense of home, he’d relax.  So I took an old towel and trudged out to the pasture rubbing down all the horses to capture their scents.  Yes, they all looked at me funny, quite suspicious, and probably convinced I was just a bit nuts.  Cowboy also thought I was slightly off my rocker, but as he always does, he just obliged me.

My Farmtastic Life - Smokey the mustang healing from an eye injury
Smokey sniffing his towel and finding comfort in the scents of home.

Off to the vet we went, towel in hand.  Oh if I could just adequately describe that moment.  Smokey sniffed and sniffed.  He touched his nose to the towel. He visibly perked up.  He would move his nose to the towel and then back to take a bite of hay.  He was eating!!!  He softened to our touch. He was relaxing. My heart was aching for our big grey soulstang – he missed his herd, the people and the four-legged ones.

So Cowboy and I made a promise to him.  For the rest of his stay, no matter how long it took, every day one of us would try our best to make the 60-plus mile round trip to talk to him, to brush him, to comfort him.  And just like magic, it worked.  Slowly but surely, he settled in, his appetite returned, the fever left, and he healed.  It took nearly three weeks, but Smokey still had his sight and an even bigger heart.

My Farmastic Life - Smokey the mustang heads home
The veterinary staff getting ready to load Smokey up for the trip home. Let’s just say, this fella is not a the easiest loader. (The patches on his neck were from his IVs. Such a fashion statement.)

These horses continue to teach us so much.  No one wants to be alone in this world, and when we’re hurting and scared the most is when we need the touch, the scent, the spirit of home.  And if we soak in the healing, we too will be able to see again.

The fellas get reacquainted with some sniffs and nibbles. Horses talk with their ears, and this day they looked like they alls should have all been named radar. Ears twitching every which way.
Smokey’s first day out in the pasture after his return. This is a roll of glee!

P.S.  Big thanks to our amazing vets, especially Dr. Imel, at Peak Performance Equine Hospital.  They are simply the best.  They allowed us to visit Smokey as often as possible, texted us with morning updates, and took the best possible care of our fella.  We will be eternally grateful.

 

 

 

 

SaveSave

My Farmtastic Life - Church on the Porch Church on the Porch
Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm

Church on the Porch

My Farmtastic Life2 Comments

I grew up in church. Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, I was there.  Sunday school, choir practice, youth group, sermons, lots and lots of sermons.  It’s where my best friends were, and it was the lense I learned to see the world through.    

Throughout our years together, Cowboy and I have attended quite the menagerie of churches.  We’ve seen the beauty and, unfortunately, some of the really ugly. We’ve been members, participants, told we couldn’t be members, or worse only one of us could join. (If you know us at all, you know we’re a packaged deal.  For better or worse, you get both of us.) We’ve taught Sunday school, volunteered, and attended Bible studies.

And right now, we are officially on a break. There, I said it out loud.  We are churchless.  Without a church. Without a denomination.  

But what does that mean?  Does it mean our faith in God is diminished?  Does it mean we love less?  Does it mean we are no longer Christians? Nope, absolutely, 100 percent no. In fact, for us, I would even dare to say that our faith in God, our love, and commitment to what it really means to be a Christ follower is stronger than ever before.

When it comes to church, we have not found the right fit for us, a place that speaks to us, a group where our core values line up.  It doesn’t mean it’s not out there, it just means we haven’t found it, and so instead of continuing the exhausting search, we are taking a break.  

So what do you do on a break? You have church on the porch.  We are intentionally taking time to sit on the porch and soak in the awe and wonder of God’s creation that surrounds us.  

Watching the horses laze around the pasture, while dogs nap in the yard. Watching bees and dragonflies buzz through the air, as hummingbirds hover at the feeders. Marveling that a single Basil plant growing out of an old horse trough can smell so fragrant and get so huge.  Feeling the breezes on skin warmed by the sun. And being grateful, oh so grateful.  Not because everything is perfect, because that will never be the case, but because we’ve let go of the perfect in return for finding peace and joy in the moment.

My Farmtastic Life - Maybelle rests in the shade of a Basil plant
A fellow church on the porch attendee, Maybelle rests in the shade of a Basil plant.

Observing our surroundings is just one part of church on the porch.  There is reading, discussing, listening to music, inspiration of all kinds.  For me, church on the porch brings clarity to my crazy thoughts, a deep rooted grace of sorts.  The conversations are special, personal, and helpful.  Oh, and most importantly judging is banned from the porch. Curiousity is welcomed.

Sometimes church on the porch happens on a random Thursday evening. Sometimes it’s a glorious Sunday morning.  Sometimes once a week and sometimes more often.  Sometimes for 15 minutes and other times for hours.  There are no rules.  Just time to revel, to meditate, to laugh.  (Laughing is totally okay during church on the porch, in fact it’s encouraged.)

So if you are struggling right now to find the place you fit, don’t be afraid to do what is best to nurture your soul and explore your faith.  It may not look very traditional, but what you may find is oh so spiritual.

P.S. I absolutely love to read.  Right now I’m working through a series of Rob Bell books, including: What Is the Bible?, Velvet Elvis, Love Wins, and How to Be Here.  If you need a little inspiration and are looking for a more expansive, inclusive view of God, I highly recommend these as a great place to start.

P.P.S.  Please don’t take this as encouragement to leave your church if it is working for you.  We think that is a beautiful thing.  This a personal story of finding a new way to express our own faith, while struggling to fit within the traditional boundaries and options present for us.

My Farmtastic Life - The sun, the water, and hope The Sun, The Water, and Hope
Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm

The Sun, The Water, and Hope

My Farmtastic Life4 Comments

August has shown us the best of humanity, and through tears of joy and sorrow, it has offered us hope.  We so desperately need hope.  We need to believe in the goodness of the human spirit, in what unites us all – our raw, deep down humanity, our will to survive and thrive.

Earlier this month, we saw people lining up, camping, and gazing skyward in unity at the beauty and wonder of the eclipse.  Caught up in the awe of nature, of science, of God’s creation. We now see people launching boats in streets swollen with water to rescue strangers, animal rescuers descending to make room for displaced critters, and people around the world donating in ways big and small to help those in South Texas with hurricane Harvey.  It is these images that give us hope.

Admittedly, this Texas farmgirl has been glued to the news in the mornings and evenings, keeping a watchful eye on my Twitter feed throughout the day, and checking on friends in Houston as they wait and watch.  Doing my best to go through the workday, but in the back of my mind thinking all the while about what is important in this life.  Watching as the dogs and cats and horses and donkeys laze around the farm unaware of the world in peril, getting some sort of peace observing their peace and knowing Cowboy and I would do anything to safeguard our little zoo.

My faith in God is such an important part of my personal journey, and continues to grow and expand as I watch these beautiful moments when we come together with the best that we are, offering all that we have in order to help a fellow soul.

My Farmtastic Life - The sun, the water, and hope. The beauty of humanity when we all come together.
There is nothing more beautiful than connecting to your fellow humans – reach out, hold someone’s hand, say a prayer, offer a hug.

When I first sat down to write this post, I wanted to talk about how we’ve all gotten into an us vs. them mentality, and how it is pulling us apart.  How at some point, all of us are part of a them group to someone.

Even today as my fellow Texans are fighting to survive, I watched as ultra conservative religious leaders took the opportunity to launch the Nashville Statement – targeted to isolate and condemn our LGBTQ friends and those of us who love them.  And again, my heart broke as all I could think was, “Really?  Seriously? This is what we are spending our time on?  Why oh why are we not lifting up our neighbors?  Jesus was and is the ultimate in love, and we are so missing the point.”

And while I could argue until I am out of breath as to why this latest attempt to divide us is wrong and heartbreaking and ill timed on so many levels, it’s become clear to me that we simply cannot give hate or those who look to divide us any more airtime. It is enough. Silence may be our greatest gift to each other.  If no one is listening to the dividers, then they no longer become dividers, and we become the uniters.

The beauty of our world is that we can all communicate quickly, loudly, and hopefully thoughtfully.  The curse is that we can all communicate quickly, loudly, and if not careful not so thoughtfully.

So as we watch the tragedies that surround us, let us share the beautiful stories.  Let us link our hands with our neighbors in comfort and solidarity.  Let us remember that there is far more good than evil.  We just have to make our voices thoughtfully and beautifully heard.

P.S. If like me you grew up in a church that had a limited view of love and are looking for a breath of fresh air, might I suggest checking out Love Wins by Rob Bell.  You might just find a little respite for your soul.

P.P.S. There are lots of ways to help those who have suffered and are suffering from the effects of Hurricane Harvey.  Whether you want to help families, babies, the elderly, or critters find a spot that speaks to your heart and offer your hand. See list from Texas Monthly. #TexasStrong

P.P.P.S. For all of those who have checked on us at the farm during this storm, thank you for thinking of us.  The farm was never in danger, as we are several hours from the coast.  However, knowing you care means a lot.  God bless!

P.P.P.P.S. A version of this post was published in the Glen Rose Reporter.  This farmgirl is delighted to serve as a community columnist.

 

SaveSave

SaveSave