Ole Ma's Ramblings...
Leading up to our gathering was a week filled with the flurry of activity. Hannah, in her element, butchered a hog here on the farm for one of her Slaughter and Butchering two day events. Watching her is mesmerizing and we still marvel at the speed and efficiency she possesses. It's truly a skill that connects us to our roots, reminding us of the cycle of life and the blessings it brings.
I took to the kitchen, turning that hog into an array of dishes over the course of the week. Candied pork belly skewers, roasted garlic and black pepper sausages, Thai sweet chili meatball wrapped ribs and more. Cooking is my way of showing love, a silent prayer of gratitude for the provision we've been given and those with whom we can share these announcement blessings with. As I worked, I found myself reflecting on the simple joy of preparing food for those we care about with prayers of gratitude on my lips.
When our friends arrived, the farm came alive with their presence. We gathered under the beautiful sky, sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional quiet moment. There's a particular kind of magic in these gatherings, a reminder that life's most profound joys are often found in the company of good friends and good food.
As evening fell, we lit a bonfire and continued our conversations under the stars. There's something about a fire that draws people together, its warmth and light creating a circle of intimacy. We talked about everything and nothing, the kind of rambling conversations that meander like a slow river, touching on various thoughts and feelings.
The following morning, as we cleaned up from the festivities, we were reminded of the other side of farming. The party that leaves us raw, broken and shredded to bits. Our sweet goat, Fancy Pants went into labor, and it wasn't a happy, joyful celebration. No- it was a harrowing, ugly experience as everyone that could go wrong did. The babies were impossibly twisted, one lodged immovable in the birth canal, more blood than there should be and so much more. We called our vet's after hours number, and he agreed to meet us at the clinic. And there we were rushing her to the vet praying that we didn't lose them all. Our stomach in knots with Fancy Pants in the back seat, a baby half in and half out, blood pooling around the tiny front legs of the baby, racing against time and fear we drove. Despite all efforts, it was too late; we lost both kids. Fancy Pants though was saved and continues recovering. All hope though of her continuing this incredible milking line we have developed over the last decade, dying with her babes. Her cervix and womb too far damaged will no longer bring forth life. Farms are supposed to produce, every resource counted, every expenditure counted and now she's tipped the scale. She'll never "pay her way" as they say and while yes, yes emphatically yes she's worth it, it's still a kick in the stomach as we calibrate the finances once again and try to justify feeding one more "useless" mouth.
Farming is often like this, a mix of the highest highs and the lowest lows, sometimes happening all at once. The joy of gathering with friends and the sorrow of losing our animals coexist, teaching us resilience and humility. These experiences, both joyful and heartbreaking, shape our lives on the farm, reminding us of the delicate balance we navigate every day and that God's grace alone sustains us.
And while we could jump into the river of worry and despair we choose instead to float above the dark waters. Focusing instead on the abundance of blessings, poured out from the Maker, flowing freely and washing is in loving care. We're often asked how we can do it and the reality is it's actually quite simple because we know that 1 Peter 5:7 tells us to" Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you." And so
we wipe off the tears, shake off the fears and get back to this crazy thing called farming.
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