If I am to be transparent, I will say there are days on the farm when everything feels like too much.
The weeds are everywhere. The animals need something. There are messages to answer, work to finish, meals to make, family to care for—and somehow the list keeps getting longer.
This past week, I was already running on empty.
What I thought was allergies to my daughter’s new rabbits ended up becoming a nasty cold, and I soon became very sick, with a fever, a sore throat, and eventually no voice at all. I had planned to spend a few quiet days at home recovering while most of my family went to a reunion in Wisconsin.
Then I woke up and discovered that some of our cattle had gotten broken out on the far west line. Heavy rains had shifted fencing, shorting out our perimeter fence and the cows figured it out.
So much for doing the bare minimum.
I called my daughter, Natalie, who had stayed back to help and was incredibly thankful for a strong girl with strong legs that can carry her fast. Together, we herded the rogue cattle all the way around the fields. I moved our milk cow, Rosie, out to the yard so the escaped steers would follow her, and eventually they all made their way back up the driveway.
Everyone was mooing loudly. For the cows this was exciting. But I was exhausted.
And when it was finally over, instead of getting up and finding the next thing that needed to be done, I sat down in the pasture.
And I just watched.
There were hundreds of butterflies—yellow, orange and brown—floating through the alfalfa and grasses. Bees and tiny flying insects moved from flower to flower. I wanted the warmth of the sun on my face, so I laid back in the grass.
Soon I felt the familiar tickle of ants crawling across my arms, along with those impossibly tiny red spiders that always seem to appear whenever I rest outside. And for a little while, I didn’t need to do anything.
I just noticed the flowers, insects, grass, sky, clouds, breeze, sounds, birds, sunshine and warmth. A loose leaf caught my attention. I turned it over in my hand and studied the veins running through it.
They reminded me of the creases in my own hands—hands stained with dirt from the seemingly endless battle with weeds.
And I thought about how easily I can get caught up in everything that needs fixing. But creation doesn’t seem to be in such a hurry.
Jesus tells us to look at the birds of the air and the flowers of the field. God knows when a sparrow falls. He clothes the flowers with beauty. If He cares for them so completely, surely He cares for us too.
Maybe sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is slow down long enough to remember that.
There will still be weeds tomorrow. There will still be cattle to move, work to finish, bills to pay, children to care for and unexpected things waiting around the corner.
But for a spell in that pasture, I remembered why I love this farm. I want to grow good things close to the earth that help nourish healthy families. I want to share the joy and peace I have found in Jesus with the people God brings into my life. And I want to live with a sense of wonder at this beautiful creation we have been given the privilege of being part of.
Maybe that’s what I needed to remember most. The farm doesn’t have to be perfect for me to find peace here. And neither does life.
Sometimes we just need to stop. Look around. And notice what God has already put in front of us.
With Love,
Leah
