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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