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.