ewe and lamb by Kyle Fraaza

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

We're buying the farm!

Writing has never really facilitated cathartic activity in my soul. Many events in my life have taken apocalyptic shape or had supernatural aspects that have convince me – informed aneed to change perspective or to rededicate my faith in new ways. It is after the catharsis, or, as Quakers often say – convincement - that I might write. Quite often, the writing is about violence and the role of violence in our world. But today, I sit ready to update the regularly avoided farm blog.

We are purchasing a farm, not of our own or on our own, and ready to put our dreams into action. Farming is an action, and a creative one at that, yet the incredible amount of activity that surrounds the farmer is often betrayed by the pace of that activity. My favorite kind of farmer is the cattleman who saw that his steers had gone beyond the boundaries of his fencing. He noted with some smugness that the cows did not realize they were free to roam because, in fact, they were quite satisfied in the corn field that they had broken into. The farmer never bothered to lure them to safety behind fencing – the beef just stood, ever active in their feeding, but ever pastoral in the way they went about it.

When one purchases a farm and commits the self to full-time creativity, there is an understanding that the passive activity of day-to-day farm chores is simply 40 days away from the next crisis. I can tell you exactly when 300 lb. hogs will escape. It will be at dinnertime with guests over, and the hogs will simply trot by the dining room window on their way to the neighbors’. I can also tell you exactly when there will be a massive poultry catastrophe. It will occur when I am too tired to check up on the kids chores and realize turkeys have been fed pig mash for four days…

Yet other activity goes beyond simply startling the observer and seamlessly helps make the narratives of life ever true. On Easter two years ago, after a difficult loss of two lambs and a ewe in birth, an unexpected lamb was born while all were at an Easter dinner. And, everyone saw the birth through the dinning room window. Regardless of the stories that shape your life, an unexpected lamb born in spring is exactly what makes the stories of one’s life true. Life keeps truth credible. I think I have told the story of the resurrected chicks a few times too many, but the fact of 70 chicks being “resurrected “ from a catatonic condition through the use of a dollar store blow dryer is one that will stick with our family for quite some time. The story if 75 chilled to the bone chicks slowly warming back into an animated state exhibits the importance, if not unmitigated truth of hope.

The hope for us now has evolved from a hope that we will find a stable place to farm and raise our family to a hope that we can make an positive impact in the community that we are soon to be a part of. One of my critiques of my dear Quaker friends is that one will often say they are seeking community. The fact is, we are already in community, wherever we are, and do not feel like we belong, or that we want to belong. The first reality is difficult to navigate, but the second difficulty might be considered latent self-righteousness. I am a city boy by birth and standing, but have learned that, to love your neighbors, you have to be in relationship with them beyond the scope of talking about baseball and the weather. Indeed, you must respect and love your neighbor even when they talk about keeping their guns, tree-huggers, Jesus as the only way, and their distrust of creeping leftist threats against the best of the amendments and commandments. We live in Michigan folks, and you can only move so far in any direction before you sink or swim in a very big lake, or a very stinky state. You see, we are all already in community, yet some of us a marginalized or self-marginalizing. Worse, many of us simply marginalize others because we disagree with them. All of this seems contrary to the aspects of community we insist we are seeking for ourselves.

There is nothing to bring community together like meal-sharing and the provision of food. Many relationships have been cemented when a plowing favor is returned with a turkey or so many pounds of beef. A dozen eggs go a long way when a neighbor is hurt on the job, and pre-cooked meals from the farm a great as house warming gifts or baby-welcoming gestures. And, when the farm is supported by a community that love to eat the produce, the farm is a community-building enterprise. It is not creation ex nihlo,  however, but  building upon a foundation that has all of the pieces necessary to reflect the best of who we can be despite differences. Such a community should be a church, but over time, I have more faith that it can come through farming. Wish us luck, and buy lots of shares. We move over the month of February until we spend the night when the calendar turns to march. A new spring beginning.



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