Sally's Babies

My dear friend Sally has dropped off some of her livestock at Kirkhaven to stay for a few days. She and her husband are making a trip up north for family reasons, so I have the honor of caring for two beautiful Dexter calves and one veeeery pregnant Nubian doe. Today my heart and my hands are busy caring for babies.

 

It's such a humbling and vulnerable feeling to care for so many "baby" things.

Baby chicks...who need their brooder to maintain the correct temperature, their water to stay fresh, their food to be plentiful and attainable.

Greenhouse seedlings . . . that need the greenhouse to be 70 degrees, their soil to stay moist and warm, and sunlight to bathe their fragile leaves.

Sally’s sweet little "bottle baby" Hush . . . who needs me to milk Jewel & Rebecca so she can have fresh, warm Dexter milk (her tummy cannot tolerate powdered milk replacer).  And also needs plenty of neck scratches.

Sally's adorable heifer calf Mo . . . who needs proper care to insure her continued recovery from a recent illness.

6 beautiful Kirkhaven calves . . . who simply need a compassionate, watchful steward to make sure all their needs are being met. And to notice if anything might be awry.

3 heavily pregnant Kirkhaven cows . . . who truly appreciate healthy food and clean water.  And a sympathetic farmer to care that they are uncomfortably HUGE.  And a warm, freshly-strawed stall to give birth in when the time comes.

It feels like an intimately choreographed dance with The Lord of the Universe. It all depends on my faithfulness as it ALL depends on HIS faithfulness. Every day. The Lord and I caring for growing things. Fellowshipping as we work together. Rejoicing as each new day brings new sprouts or new wing feathers or newborn moos and baaahs.

Maybe this is what it means to "pray without ceasing." For sure, this is what it means to live richly.

One of our adorable Buff Orpington chicks.

Our equally adorable Black Australorp chick.

Our latest calf: Kirkhaven Skye Gazing. Photo courtesy of Sally Coad . . . who was "cow sitting" our pregnant first-time heifer Rainbow at her farm when this little beauty was born.

January 1: Journey

Another quieting fog has descended upon my misty brae this first day of 2013. It’s a fitting backdrop, really, for these types of musings. My day is quiet because I choose for it to be. And because the drifting fog muffles every noise so that even hollering goats are shushed into pensive cud-chewing.

When I began to think about 2013 a couple of days ago, I got out some paper and began to write words. Single words. I was looking for a signpost . . . a theme . . . to define the tenor of my heart as this new year’s journey unfolded. I perused Facebook to see what other people where posting. I Googled a few things. I opened my Bible and re-read Psalm 107 . . . the cornerstone scripture for our East Tennessee farm. I prayed. But nothing “real” came to mind.

Nothing fit.

Nothing seemed “right.”
So I took out a fresh piece of paper, uncapped my pen, and wrote this:

 

Nothing.

An empty sheet of paper with an uncapped pen.
Waiting for inspiration.

 And that fit.

It was “right.”

I will not be spending 2013 fighting invisible specters of resolutions and declarations. I don’t need a fresh vision or a renewed annointing to walk this new path. There will be no thematic prophecies leading me into miraculous sunsets.

I will simply be journeying.

I will start each day clean and fresh because of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.
I will walk freely because He has broken every bond . . . and I choose to throw them aside.
I will stride expectantly because that is the true nature of journeying.
And I will wait.

It’s not the kind of waiting that stops life from happening.

It’s the kind of waiting that shushes your soul from meaningless chatter and transforms walking into listening.

And God will write.

. . . from His Word
. . . from His Heart
. . . from the very depths of Love itself.
He will give direction and craft signposts and speak whisperings that emanate from eternity.

It’s a bold journey.

A courageous leap of faith.
An open-ended invitation for the Maker of the Universe to embark with me on a very intimate adventure.

So it’s time to don my coveralls, slip on my muckers, trek up to the barn, and see if any heifers are in labor.

Astounding, isn’t it, how the most amazing journey can begin by simply putting on your boots . . .

and taking God’s Hand?

Shushing

A shushing fog is drifting across the brae this morning. There are Christmas preparations still undone. Barn work yet to be finished.  And a whole host of kitchen projects waiting in the wings. But my heart whispers, “Be still. Wait. Listen.”

So I do. I simply walk outside, stand in the blanketing fog, and listen.  And wait. Perfectly still.

It’s so strange how a single whisper can be louder than a crowd of shouting “shoulds.”

There doesn’t always have to be a discernible reason for shushing. You don’t always have to walk away from the experience saying, “Ah, yes, so THAT is why!” Shushing can be both a means and an end. No mysterious meaning in between. Just being still . . . and quiet . . . and listening to God’s breathing.

Because He is really there.

So many people are facing this holiday season with lives drowning in sorrow and loss. Some people are alone and lonely. And some will have days filled with a flurry of parties, family celebrations, and good cheer.

So I think it is appropriate that I begin my first “official” farming blog with a pause. And this simple statement:

God is there.

Even if all you hear when you face the heavenlies is the quiet rhythm of Holy Breathing.
He is there.
And He is good.

There is no higher calling than to stand in Holy His presence with silent awe. Breathing too.

But as for me, the nearness of God is my good;

I have made the Lord God my refuge,
That I may tell of all Your works.
Psalms 73:28

No Charisma

Very soon now my beloved family milk cow Moo will give birth to her 5^th calf. And Kirkhaven will have milk again. Fresh, rich, milk. Delicious. Organic. Healthy.

And we will have homemade butter.

And any flavor of ice-cream we can dream up.

And tangy sour cream.

And yummy cheese spreads full of fresh herbs from our late-summer garden.

I love everything about milking my sweet Moo. I love getting up early to meet her at the stall gate. I love humming and chatting as I wash her udder and tie her in the milking station.  I love the satisfied look on her face when I pour grain into the bucket at her head. And I love folding myself low-to-the-ground to reach beneath her short-statured udder.

There is no fanfare about it. When the rest of the world is still in bed . . . or getting their morning coffee . . . or preparing notes for their next meeting . . . or trying to get children dressed for school  . . .  I am sitting on my tree-stump milking stool. The television is broadcasting the latest news about the election, but I don’t hear it. There are wars in foreign countries, but I am not experiencing them. People are blogging and tweeting about themselves, or their accomplishments, or their opinions, or their passions, or their crusades, or their disdain for other people’s opinions and passions and crusades . . . but I am not reading any of it. There is only Moo, me, the sound of munching, the feel of her ample belly against my cheek, and the uncomplicated rhythm of squeeze-and-squeeze-and-squeeze-and-squeeze.

Cows have no charisma. I think that is what I love the most about Moo. There is warmth and acceptance in her eyes. There is a quiet regality in her posture. There is a practical intelligence in her demeanor. There is even a charming agreeableness in the way she willingly cooperates with her farmers. But there is absolutely no charisma.

None.

In a world that deifies advertisement and self promotion, charisma is everything. You need to be gorgeous. You need to carry yourself with pride and confidence. You need to be quick witted and sharp tongued. You need to be talented and specially gifted. You need to be passionate. You need followers. And you need to be able to cut your opposition off at the knees with one quick flick of the tongue.

But Moo needs none of these things.

And when I am milking Moo, I need none of these things too.

My husband and I did not begin our farming journey to learn the secret of a charisma-less life. But sometimes the journey you begin to take will follow a path you never knew was there.

So I wait . . . with great anticipation . . . for Moo to have her new calf. My heart longs for the simple joy of hand milking Moo. There is a deep thirst in my soul for a rich, meaningful life that transcends the shallow popularity of charismatic living. I am ready for the lessons.

I want to find the treasures that are hidden ...

instead of manufacturing crass trinkets for popular display. 

I want to relish the effort of working hard ...

instead of expecting easy benefits from effortlessness.

I want to understand the real importance of faithfully stewarding the tasks set before me ...
instead of wishing to be someone else doing something else somewhere else.

I want to walk through my day with a nurtured sense of gratitude ...

instead of feeding a desire to always want more.

Dear Lord, you were a carpenter by trade. A scholar by heritage. A servant by choice. Teach me the lessons that will forge my heart into a sanctuary for the kind of Truth that is real . . . and the kind of living that is really Good.

Free from the burden of charisma.

I am waiting.

And I am ready.

And Moo will help.

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)