Unembellished Miracles

We now have three calves at Kirkhaven Farm!  Violet and Yetta have given us two beautiful black heifers and Adelle just gave birth to an adorable bull calf.  Maggie should calve within a week or two.  Moola is due in August.  As I stand on my beloved brae and watch the babies yippie-skippie across our East Tennessee hill top, I am stunned by how fulfilling and rich my quiet life is.  

Our whole farming adventure is so plain.  Hands-on and earthy.  So very simple.  We feed the cows and chickens.  Muck the stalls.  Water and weed the garden.  Add fresh well-water to the bass pond if it hasn’t rained in a few days.   Check the apple orchard and grape vines for invading beetles or caterpillars.   Nothing truly noteworthy happens during our daily routine . . . except that all of it is so quietly miraculous.

Bird nests . . . with their tiny eggs . . . so perfectly tucked into odd nooks and crannies in the barn.

Sunshine streaming through open stall doors as daylight dawns over the eastern ridges each morning.

Sleepy calves nursing one last time before they snuggle beside their mothers on soft grass each evening.

There’s really nothing witty or sharp to Tweet about.

Nothing spectacular to display on a Pinterest board.

No great revelation to unveil in a book or preach from a pulpit.

Just simple, unembellished miracles.

The kind that leave your hands tired and your heart completely at rest.

Only a Miracle
When calves are born at Kirkhaven,
There isn’t much to see . . .
Just tiny, shiny, sleepy heads
With wibbly-wobby knees.

There’s no loud celebration,
No cheering revelry . . .
Just mama softly lowing
A lullaby for three.

One day it will be different . . .
On hillsides green and free . . .
With romping ‘cross the grassy brae . . .
And mooing ‘neath the trees . . .
And venturing in pasturelands . . .
And grazing peacefully . . .

But now there’s nothing newsworthy
To blog or tweet or see . . .
There’s just this newborn miracle,
With cow and God and me.

Yetta and her newborn calf . . . sweet little Patience . . .

From the Ground . . . Up

“So what kind of cows are THESE??”

I lost count how many times I answered that question.  Our stalls were at the far end of the cattle barn at the Florida State Fair.  Visitors walked down several stall-lined aisles before they got to our section.  They saw many different colors, shapes, sizes, and kinds of bovine before finally arriving at the Dexter Cattle section.  And most of them really didn’t know what to make of our “little cows.”

“Awwww . . . they’re sooo cute!”

“Wow, are these full grown?"

“Why do you raise these little cows?”

“OMG I want one!”

Listening to their comments and answering their slightly predictable questions was so fun: 

Of course Dexters are cute!

Yes, the sweet cows standing there with their adorable calves ARE full grown. 

We raise these wonderful bovine to produce nutritious milk, healthy & delicious beef, and life-enriching companionship. 

And you CAN have one . . . if you are ready for the adventure!

I really never IMAGINED I would EVER own cattle, much less SHOW them at fairs!  We don’t have a livestock trailer.  We don’t even own a truck!  But through the generosity of precious family and friends, we were able to patch together a transportation scheme that got us to Tampa safe, sound, and on time.

Thank you Sally & Warren, for transporting all of our Dexters to Florida ... and for helping us succeed in showing our beloved cows.

Thank you Dave & Rach, for letting us use your trailer to carry all Kirkhaven & Freedom Farm equipment . . . which left the Freedom Farm trailer free to haul all of the Dexters.

Thank you Missy & Al Dunse for hosting Sally, Warren, Haden, me . . . and all ten of our Dexters . . . for a relaxing, refreshing night at your beautiful Florida farm on our way to Tampa.

So what should I tell you about our Florida State Fair adventure?  I could describe the difficulties and eventual victories we experienced in procuring transportation for us, our gear, and our cattle.  I could explain all the time and preparation we invested in seeing that our Dexters were presented in their BEST possible condition.  I could tell you about the ribbons we won.  I could tell you how enchanted people were with Mo’s soft red coat and unbelievably adorable face.  I could describe how Reuben actually basked in all the attention and seemed to “ask” passers-by to rub his head and scratch his neck.  I could tell you how rich and nourishing the fellowship of our friends was.  But as I think about our Florida adventure, I find myself simply quieted.

Somehow Father knew we would thrive in this simple farming lifestyle.

He knew our faith would grow and our hope would bloom as we watched His generous Hand provide for our every need.

He knew that new friendships and brand new experiences would weave beautiful patterns into the tapestries of our lives.

And He knew . . . even when we could have never guessed it . . . that healing and strength and prosperity of heart and soul would pour into our lives from the ground up . . . as we collected eggs and planted gardens and cared for our sweet Dexters and stewarded the land He so generously placed into our hands.

From the ground up.

Blessings from above, flowing . . . from the ground . . . up.

As I walked Rainbow, my first entry, into the show ring at the Florida State Fair, I felt so very blessed. Blessed from the bottom of my cowboy-booted feet to the top of my slightly disheveled head.  Blessed from the ground up.  Blessed by all that the Lord had grown and was still growing . . . on my farm, and in my farmer’s heart.

Here is Reuben sporting his new show-cut.  Isn't he absolutely handsome??

New Kirkhaven Farm Blog!

Spring of 2012 will be a time of new beninnings for me.  Kirkhaven Farm has 4 calves due in March/April.  Another one is due in August.  And our young bull, Reuben, begins his career as Kirkhaven Farm Herd Sire.  In honor of the new things the Lord is doing in my life, I have begun a new blog called "Kirkhaven Farm." Here's the link

http://kirkhavenfarm.blogspot.com/

There is so much to write about and to share.  The Lord is blessing our little ridge-top farm abundantly!  Dexter cattle, Australorp chickens, apple orchard, heirloom gardens with a winter greenhouse, wild and cultivated fruit, and the beginnings of a bass pond fill our days with the adventures and mis-adventures of family farming.  I do some canning and will soon try my hand at making soap from the rich Dexter milk our endearing cow Moo gives us each morning.  Visit Kirkhaven Farm's blog to keep updated on our latest endeavors.  Or better yet, come see us!  We are both humbled by and delighted with the new thing the Lord is doing in our lives.  Perhaps He wants to do something new in your life too . . .    

See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.
Isaiah 43:19 (NIV)

Stewardship and Blessing

I am so content in our farming lifestyle.  I begin every day filled with gratitude that my life has taken such a gracious turn.  And I end each night satisfied by God’s goodness and blessing. But there is no Gravy Train on a family farm. 

Gravy Train:  A job or project that requires little effort but yields considerable profits

Synonyms:  lap of luxury, life of Riley, life of ease

The American Heritage® New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition© 2005 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Roget's 21st Century Thesaurus, Third Edition © 2012 by the Philip Lief Group.

Perhaps the picture seems idealistic:

fresh milk in the refrigerator,

eggs from free-range chickens for breakfast,

homemade jam on homemade bread,

heirloom garden vegetables,

bowls of juicy hand-harvested berries,

lush green pastures with contentedly grazing cattle,

shelves stocked with healthy home-canned goods,

delicious, grass-raised beef.

But all of these things exist only AFTER the work . . . work that requires considerable investment of time, money, education, physical effort, and emotional fortitude. 

There is a cost for living the ideal. 

I coulddecide that farming isn’t really for me.  I could decide that the mornings come too early, or the investment isn’t worth the benefits, or the elegantly simply lifestyle isn’t worth the muddy boots and sore joints.  But I wouldforfeit the blessing:

No beautiful, brown eggs. 

No morning-fresh milk. 

No bountiful, heirloom garden. 

No baskets of organic berries. 

No healthy, delicious, home-canned products. 

No lush, green pastures of contentedly grazing cattle.

I look at Christianity the same way.  There is no “Grace Train” in Christianity. 

No forgiveness without repentance. 

No blessing without servitude. 

No relationship with God without a lifestyle of prayer, Bible study, and submission to His leadership. 

Read 2 Peter 1:1-11 

The “good life” . . . both on a farm and in God’s Kingdom . . . requires a lot of work.  A life of blessing, joy, and peace in the Lord Jesus . . . and of rich, farm-fresh goodness . . . are BOTH beautiful gifts of God’s amazing grace AND stewardships that require hard work, dedication, and faith.  Both Grace and Works.  Both free gift and daily labor.  Gravy Trains and Grace Trains imply effortless blessing.  But idle hands and lazy hearts have neither the capacity to hold nor the strength to steward God’s rich, abundant goodnesses. 

This is my Sweet Caramel Royale on the day she was born at Freedom Farms.  Achingly cute, huh?  She is here with us at Kirkhaven Farm because of the faithful stewardship/hard work of Sally and Warren Coad AND the abundant blessing of our genenerous God. 

I asked my Heavenly Father for a dun heifer calf this past summer and He graciously gave me Sweetie (she is a special short-legged Dexter . . . which is a blessing BEYOND the scope of my simple prayer)!  One day she will be a wonderful milk cow with a lovely calf of her own. 

But for now, I better head up to the barn, feed my Dexters some hay, and put a training halter on little Sweetie.  If I want the blessing of a faithful milk cow, I have a newly weaned heifer to train and a budding relationship to build . . .

Farmers?

Welcome to our new Kirkhaven Farm blog!  We hope you find encouragement and refreshment here.  We are new to the farming lifestyle . . . providential farmers perhaps (because nothing is really an accident.) 

Two years ago, we began this journey with a small flock of Australorp chickens. Then we planted a small apple orchard, dug a well, excavated a bass pond, constructed a small green house, and converted our sand volleyball court into garden boxes of heirloom herbs and vegetables.  This summer . . . and really, no one was more surprised than us . . . we began collecting a small herd of Dexter cattle.  Each new venture crept into our lifestyle so gently that I always hesitated to actually ~say~ we were farming.  We were just “doing projects.”  But this cold, bitterly windy day in January . . . as I look at my 2012 Heirloom Garden plan . . .  and think about what to name our spring calves . . . the word “farmer” rolls off my tongue as easily as “stainless steel canner” and “mucking boots.”  I am a farmer.  What in the world will God think of next??

Is it possible to have been born to do something, but not even begin to experience it until your 50’s?  That’s how I feel about farming.  I remember, as a child, enjoying my grandmother’s farm in Etowah, Tennessee.  I would spend hours traipsing through her woods building fairy castles out of moss, acorns, and wildflowers underneath the tree roots that overhung a long, winding drainage gulley.  And I remember climbing Grandma’s huge oak tree . . . scrambling to the highest branches so I could perch grandly above “everything” and read a book.  And I remember building hay-bale parapets in the storage barn’s loft so that my cousins and I could scamper up them and careen down onto piles of sweet, fresh hay.  I remember collecting eggs in the hen house, holding a bottle to feed a brand new calf, and singing songs as I would lounge on her creaking porch swing.  But I never dreamed of owning a farm.

It seems that sometimes the very things you never even ~dream~ about are the secret "surprise" blessings God loves giving you the most.

So here I am on our wind-swept brae.  Eating toast with the jam I canned last summer.  Watching the fire embers glow as I thumb through a book on making soap.  And wondering when my newest heifer’s genetic test results will be e-mailed to me.

Feel free to join me on this farming journey.  I will add photos, stories, and essays to the pages on the blog from time to time.  Maybe share a recipe or two. 

Or . . . instead of only reading about our farming adventures . . . come visit us at Kirkhaven!  We have a darling new heifer calf named Sweet Caramel Royale and you ~know~ you want to pet her . . .

Knowing

I love morning's quiet lull, before the noise and bustle of daily living rushes in.

The simple silence of walking to the barn in the dark.

The soothing rhythm of milking my sweet cow Moo.

The uncomplicated routine of greeting chickens, opening barn doors, and filling water troughs.

Every dawn,

as the rising sun pours warm rays across Kirkhaven’s eastern pasture,

it feels like a fresh new miracle

that I am here.

Things feel right and good on the farm in the morning.

Two years ago, my husband and I would have never dreamed that we would be mucking stalls, chatting with UT agriculture specialists about pasture maintenance, and ordering bovine vaccinations online.  Who would have ever THOUGHT that WE would be farmers?  My husband is an architect.  I am a teacher.  What did we know about gardening and greenhouses and cows and chickens and pastures and wells and ponds?

Nothing.

We knew nothing.

But God knows everything.

He knew that we were broken and grieving.

He knew that we were afraid to move ahead . . . in any direction.

He knew that we would absolutely thrive doing the very thing that we never imagined.

And He knew that stepping into the unknown . . .

struggling with doubt and fear until hope is born . . .

depending upon Him because resources were too small and the task was too big . . .

hearing the still, small Voice of His Wisdom and His Truth above a daily din of continuous clatter . . .

studying hard . . .

working hard . . .

praying hard . . .

resting gratefully in the goodness of His wondrous, amazing grace . . .

was what we were BORN to do.

The learning curve has been very steep.  There have been days when we wondered if it would work out at all.  We have made mistakes.  We have seen hardships.  We have been disappointed.  But building Kirkhaven Farm has been good. 

Very good. 

There is something poignant . . . something rich and life-giving and real . . . about drawing sustenance from the land.  I have always understood that eggs came from chickens.  I realized that milk and beef came from cows.  I appreciated the fact that fruits and vegetables I bought at the store were grown in a garden or orchard somewhere.  But academic facts have grown to a different kind of “knowing” as I have collected eggs from chickens I raised from hatchlings, canned jellies and jams from fruits I picked myself, eaten fresh garden vegetables that I grew from seeds, and enjoyed a cold glass of creamy goodness from my hand-milked cow Moo.

“Knowing about” is sterile and academic.  It can be gained through study.  Through mentoring.  Through meditative revelation.  It can earn you fame and fortune.  It can cause others to be jealous of what you have gained.  But it cannot give you the vital, real kind of life that truly knowing offers.

“Knowing” . . . instead of “knowing about” . . . is very, very precious.

The touching kind of knowing.

The dirt-on-your-hands and poop on your boots kind of knowing.

The laboring over and laboring with and laboring because-of kind of knowing.

The costly kind.

The intimate kind.

Like God knows us. 

His birth in a stall. 

His childhood in a small town. 

His work with His father as a carpenter. 

His ministry on the dusty roads and lake shores and hillsides and big cities of Israel. 

His death on a cross. 

The been-there-done-that-have-the-scars kind of knowing.

The real kind of knowing.

As I go about my daily chores at Kirkhaven, stewarding the bounty that lives and grows here, it is becoming very real to me how very shallow knowledge is . . . but how very deep knowing is.  One of my favorite Bible verses often drifts through my heart and mind as I work:

Be still (cease striving), and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth.

The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah

Psalms 46:10-11

I have often commented about how my quiet, farming lifestyle has helped me enter into the “be still” part of that verse.  Nothing else I have ever done has helped “still” my heart more than farming.  But now I am seeing that farming has helped me enter the “knowing” part of that verse too.

Be still.  Cease the hand-wringing striving that is born of faithlessness.

And know.  The dirt-on-your-hands-and-poop-on-your-boots kind of intimate participation in God’s Kingdom life.

I know my chickens. 

I know my cows. 

I know the dark, rich dirt of my vegetable garden. 

But to know God . . . intimately and deeply and richly . . . to touch Him . . . and to work alongside Him . . . even when it's messy or hard . . . is the greatest treasure of all.

Relevance

If you are looking for relevancy, you can find it.  You can buy it from many willing vendors.

But if you are looking for God, relevancy is a trap.

There.  I have said it.  Simple, clean, and dangerous.  But there isn’t any sense in dancing around the issue.  Christianity is not about relevancy, it is about relationship.  One relationship.  A relationship with God.  And this relationship with the Creator of All is not amenable to being brokered by relevancy.

amenable means:  being open to . . . agreeable with . . . submissive under

brokering means:  working as an intermediary between two parties . . . negotiating bargains and

contracts . . . defining the stipulations under which two parties will function and relate

God is not open to working through the opinions, expectations, or desires of intermediaries.

God is not agreeable with negotiating bargains and contracts with cultural correctness, life scenarios, or personal preferences.

God is not submissive under stipulations placed upon Him by doctrines, revelations, experiences, or creeds.

God is not amenable to the brokering of my faith.

And God never bows to the will or the demands of relevancy.

Oswald Chambers explains the brokering of faith in this way:

One of the most striking features in Abraham’s life is its irrelevancy. . . The greatest thing in Abraham’s life is God, not “Abraham-ism.”  The whole trend of his life is to make us admire God, not Abraham . . . If you get off on the line of personal holiness or Divine healing or the Second Coming of Our Lord (or seeker-friendly services or crusades against legalism or mystic revelations of grace or unconditional acceptance of “alternate lifestyles,” I would add) and make any of these your end, you are disloyal to Jesus Christ.

So the real question, I might suggest, is where do we hang our hearts? 

There . . . at the place where we broker all of our hopes, dreams, relationships, and securities . . . on that hook that carries everything dear to us . . . is where we find relevancy.

Is our relevancy in God alone?

Cease striving and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.
The Lord of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our stronghold.
Selah.
Psalms 46:10-11

My soul, wait in silence for God only,
For my hope is from Him.
He only is my rock and my salvation,
My stronghold; I shall not be shaken.
On God my salvation and my glory rest;
The rock of my strength, my refuge is in God.
Trust in Him at all times, O people;
Pour out your heart before Him;
God is a refuge for us.
Selah.
Psalms 62:5-8

I am a farmer.  I spend my days tending the garden, feeding the livestock, and stewarding what the Lord has so graciously given me.  We often have guests at Kirkhaven, and we enjoy the opportunity to share the Lord’s goodness with people He brings to us.  It is rare, however, that anyone would ever see the fruit of my labor or think to admire the work of my hands. 

But when I greet my mooing cattle each morning as they wait impatiently for my attention . . . when I weed and water my never-completely-manicured heirloom garden . . .  when I pet every hen as she sits on the roost each evening before I collect the eggs . . . whether I have cooked dinner for guests or only shared a meal with my dear husband . . . I know that I am completely relevant. 

Not because someone “liked” my status on Facebook that day.  Not because someone gave my blog a glowing review.  Not because I was attractive or hot or witty or talented or noticed.  Not because any broker of any group or viewpoint or church thinks that I am special or anointed or noteworthy. 

I know that I am relevant because I have walked with God today.  We have fellowshipped.  He rejoiced with me . . . or cried with me . . . or supported me when I struggled . . . or forgave me when I repented . . . or simply filled my daily tasks with the fragrance and joy of His sweet presence.

HE is my relevance. 

I rest my heart in Him.

photo by Sally Coad