Infinitely Stronger Than Fear

It's the times when I've said NO to fear, and walked right through and over it, with no apologies to it, that I look back on as some of the best quality - if most difficult - moments and decisions of my life.

"Best quality," and not simply "best," as many times those moments of bravery that lead into a more illuminated and honest life are anything but happiness-filled as they unfold in the moment.

And perhaps if we collectively, consciously, actively chose to unapologetically trample over fear more frequently, instead of each other, we could begin to bring some sanity and compassion and integrity back into our world, and change not just the headlines we make every day, but our own hearts and minds.

Because let's face it, we let fear dictate far too many of our behaviors.

We're afraid of time - it's passing pace, and where in it we may find ourselves if we blink or make the wrong decision. And whether we've conquered it or haven't and just aren't ready to admit that to anyone, we've all let fear decide what we say, do, how we interact with each other, what we share vs what we keep hidden....

Personally, I'm fed up with allowing fear power in my life. It's ugly and a liar and has no place in a life lived out loud and honestly.

It's sneaky, and creeps into us with little steps of no consequence, until it feels comfortable and familiar and can then control more important parts of our lives without us even noticing. Silly things that matter not at all, like recently when we posted the video from our first two drone flights over the farm, and one of my thoughts was "people are going to notice all the weeds in the garden, or the giant puddle in the paddock, and think we are sloppy, uncaring farmers, and not realize I've spent the better part of the last month pulling weeds, and the only reason for the giant puddle is the tremendous thunderstorm that just finished rolling over the farm and dumping a huge amount of much-needed rain on us moments before we shot this..."

And much bigger things, like the lessons we are teaching the next generation by the way we act in life's difficult moments.

Last night, as I sat in the hallway of the barn weeping, not feeling like I could stop and not wanting to until all the grief and anger and guilt poured out and far away from my heart, as I heard the bubbly approach of two-year old feet, little hands grasping a berry-picking basket, little blonde face all smiles, suddenly I felt the tears forcing themselves back inside my eyes.

"Buck up! Hide it away, quick!"

And as the two grown men lifted the body of one of our beloved goat does from the stall where her sweet, innocent heart had taken it's final beat, after fighting against the exhaustion of bringing quadruplets into the world and nursing them for the past three months, my only thought was guiding those little feet out of the barn into the sunlit yard, and shielding those little blue eyes from the truth of the moment.

Later, just the two of us, our final goodbyes and the quiet of an otherwise ordinary summer evening on the farm, I tried to let the sound of the tractor and digging backhoe drown out the pounding of grief's hammer against my heart.

And I thought it would be best to just keep this one to ourselves, to hide it away in the tears as they tracked from our faces, to the earth that now holds another part of our hearts.

Fear that we're doing it all wrong, after all, and admitting the day's defeat will change people's opinions of us and our farm.

Fear that despite the vet's assurance that it wasn't parasites or feed or injury or anything we could have possibly done or not done, but simply her heart, overworked by the task of carrying, giving birth to, and then nursing four precious babies, had grown tired, and was shutting down, that there must have been something more we could have done to save her, or at the very least to have made her more comfortable in her final moments.

Fear that my heart will solidify in to unfeeling stone if I let this new reality truly sink in.

Fear of the morning, and having to face cheerful and well-meaning "How are the goats? How's the farm life" greetings from friends and family we haven't seen in a while.

Fear that despite all my best efforts, I'm just not good enough to hack this farm life.

But Truth, and Love are two things that, although it does it's best to make us believe otherwise, are infinitely stronger than fear.

And the Truth is, we are doing our best, sometimes there is nothing that can be done, and if everything and every day and every person and experience and feeling was the same, and "good," we wouldn't really be able to know what good actually is.

Acknowledging the bad, ugly, heart-wrenching parts of life doesn't make life any less beautiful, love any less real, goodness any less valid; it just keeps us honest.

May we each, and all, decide right now, today, to be honest, to admit we're all just as scared as the next person sometimes, but that life's reality, it's promises and miraculous eternal nature, are both infinitely larger than, and simultaneously rooted deep within, the core of each of us.

And may hope, and truth, and light, ultimately unite us all.