Just Do Something

Finding Motivation Amidst Overwhelmed Exhaustion

Full time farm life is just that - FULL. 

Looking back over the past five years, and then over this year since mid-March, I cannot comprehend how we got anything done here when we were both working off-farm full time.

Oh, wait, I remember -- by not eating dinner or slowing down until after sunset in the summer (if we ate dinner at all), cramming in social lives and projects we didn't have time for during the work week into every weekend, and using 99% of our vacation time from the day job on "staycations" where we worked on projects around the farm. (The other 1% we spent on illness, family emergencies, and - rarely - actual vacations.)

And this week, after the luxury of having Farmer Husband here with me every day last week (as he used some of that vacation time for a week's staycation to work on dairy equipment set up), recovering from one large event while another one looms, I will admit I am exhausted and overwhelmed.

Monday it got the better of me. Yesterday was much better and I actually got several things accomplished. This morning, the temptation to linger longer over morning coffee and wallow in my overwhelmedness was strong. But then the Lord reminded me that it doesn't have to all get done at once, and with that prompting I was able to find the strength to just do something.

That's the key - just starting with something.

Don't stare at and reread the entire To Do List and then freeze in fear of failing to get it all done in the time you think you should, just pick one thing and do it. It doesn't even have to be on the list. As long as you choose one thing, focus on it, and see it through, soon you'll have followed through and completed several things, and that List, while it's sure to keep growing and changing, won't seem so ominous.

So, with the lawn creeping up toward needs-to-be-mowed status again, weeds crawling back into garden aisles and around flowerbed borders, laundry escaping the hamper, more soap orders than soap available, and more invitations for fun events than free time, I took the first step with one tired foot, followed by another with the other, and pushed start on the washing machine, then pulled some weeds from the carrot patch in the veggie garden...

And knowing Farmer Husband is counting on me to make the most of my time here, and learning more all the time that with God's help and purpose in mind I am capable of more than I ever imagined, I found motivation amidst overwhelmed exhaustion.

Expecting to be Surprised Again

Equanimity Through Thankfulness

Well, Hello, after an extended absence from Blogland.
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Life's best, and worst, moments often catch me by complete surprise.

We all spend some portion of our lives planning our lives; some of us much more than others. I fall somewhere right in the middle between complete tree-hugging carefreeness, and conservative, goal-oriented, path-to-security mindedness. I guess you could say I like surprises, as long as I can be somewhat prepared for them.

But how do you prepare for and maintain equanimity through those moments or seasons that rise up and engulf you with complete joy, or utter despair? 

I suppose it is becoming a theme in many of these posts, but the longer I am allowed to live this earthly life, the more profoundly I am learning to let thankfulness squelch my fears and frustrations, and punctuate every  happiness. Thankfulness keeps me honest, teaches patience, and helps me give out and give back even when it feels like I have nothing to give.

This month is passing so quickly the feeling cannot be put into words. Even more so than the rest of 2015 so far, August is a blur. The past week was a blend of hard work, time with the Love of my Life, family, relaxation, chaos and calm that left my everything the best kind of exhausted.

And now a new week's begun, promising a very similar progression as we prepare for our church's annual summer picnic service here at the farm, followed by next week's celebration of the marriage of our oldest son.

After a long week made of long days working on organizing, setting up or stowing away more neatly for the time being the dairy equipment that filled the 26 foot truck we rented in late May to drive back in from New York, cleaning up the yard, putting up veggies from the garden, making ice cream, and keeping up with "normal" everyday chores, we were rewarded with a fabulous weekend shared with family.

Friday brought the surprise of the first set of campers arriving at the farm, cousins whom we've never really had the chance to get to know very well before. Friday evening the weather surprised us and created new memories when our campers had to move their camping experience to our couch to escape the high winds, rain, and thunder and lightening that lingered for much of the night.

Saturday more out of town family arrived, and filled all three spare beds we have to offer in the Stone Cottage. Saturday evening we impatiently waited for the humid high heat of the day to ease so that we could enjoy gathering around the bonfire with even more family.

Then Sunday, the Big Day, when 80+ family members arrived at the farm to celebrate the 78th annual reunion of my Dad's side of the family.

And now Monday, already over half over, unfolds in extreme quiet.

A wind chime sings a random song on the side porch, and empty picnic tables and chairs silently await their next occupants. Tablecloths gathered up after guests departed last night wait in a neat heap to be washed and dried before being employed in the next event this coming Sunday. The herd grazes contentedly, having received ample cuddles and treats from the weekend's visitors who were enamored with their adorableness. And our two big dogs make one big extended nap of the entire day so far, catching up on rest after being faithful companions through a weekend of early mornings and late nights filled with many more people and thrown-off schedules than they are used to being at the farm.

I tarry in idleness, content to just be today, and let the events that led to today sink in to my tired bones. Gratefulness has it's way with me, and colors the memory of each moment. Blessings abound and Grace surrounds, and I find myself ready to expect more surprises, and desperate to share this Peace.

Gifts are Given to be Given Again

Nurture Your Purpose and Nurture the Lives of Others 

It's been a few days, and thoughts still vie for the right to be written.

Just plunking them down would only mean white space occupation, not inspiration.

So I practice waiting.

I live each moment, awake to the gifts it brings. Hands callus, projects progress, the camera freezes small rectangular views of long summer days, to be stored away for future memory-inducing.

I listen to Roo exchanging first-light crows with the neighboring rooster a half mile down the dirt road. The rising sun sweeps in golden slivers from east to west, illuminating small scenes of wonder across the farm yard. The shutter clicks, and I attempt to frame each shot with the thoughts and emotions of which it's made.

The milking machine sitting idle whispers the minutes are slipping. I don't want force the flow, so I carefully choose another scene to help explain the words, and I step away, prepare the udder wash, slip on shoes, greet patient goats in the sweetly hay-scented cool of the barn.

Morning grain is greedily gobbled, the machine hums and fills with fresh, clean, cloud-white milk. Barn babies, now the youngest already two months old, baa their "Good Morning, Momma!" from their kid-size stall, anxious for the freedom of their outdoor play area, fresh hay, and water. Muskiness begins to mingle more strongly with the sugary scent of only-in-a-well-used-well-loved-barn-do-you-get-it, tails begin to wag, and across-the-gate-and-fence flirtations are exchanged as the cycle begins and continues again, now already four days into August.

But we keep the work and fruits of the next new season tucked carefully in yet, consciously staying present in Now. The full calendar overflows, and another of the short months of Summer slips quietly past as tomatoes begin to blush, and sweet corn silks begin to brown and tease with buttery dreams of crisp golden kernels behind their husks. Each day brings new items crossed off and added to The List, and as we continue to embrace new challenges and gifts, gratitude continues to enlighten.

These gifts we are given are meant to be given again.

These fresh-air, sun, dirt, and sweat-drenched days nurture more than ourselves; the Peace that dwells here swells up through and out of our hearts and hands and is meant to be shared.

As our stewardship unfolds and grows, it teaches patience and persistence and perseverance; it vines out and connects us and this place and these days to those around us with tendrils of joy that nourish body, mind, soul.

Like the pumpkin blossoms splashing vibrant yellow and orange across mounds of broad green, before giving way to the fruit hidden behind them, our very own dreams and talents, well-tended, watered, and well-wielded, are gifts that reach further than our it's-Tuesday-and-time-to-weed-the-garden-again eyes can comprehend. Every green bean and zucchini harvested, every flower watered, every doe milked, every herb dried... holds more far-reaching blessings inside than we could ever imagine giving out.

And every dirt-under-the-nails, sweaty-browed moment does more than tick by -

it actively tends the talents we have been entrusted with, grows our souls, makes moments into memories, and fifteen humble acres and a dream into an impact so much greater than just us.