When We Can't Pick Up All The Pieces

     I had one of those great long talks with an old friend the other day. The kind that realigns you; where you bear your worst fears, relive sadness, reassess decisions made, and shed tears.  It is so important to have someone you can bear your soul to and who would never give you cause to regret that you did.

     Time changes things and that is inevitable. On the farm it is certainly true. I've chronicled the various animals arriving and the joys they brought. We still have joy, but we have had to live with some difficult losses. Annabell was never able to conceive and so we could not keep her. One philosophy about working farms that is difficult for non-farm folk to understand is that if an animal, or crop, or aspect, does not work in the plan, then oftentimes that part needs to be changed. Annabell was given to a very nice family. A cow named Sugar was sadly given away as well. Betsy was sold. Who would guess that I would develop a severe allergy to cow dander. I tried everything. It was very hard to give up the dream, but I started the process.

     And then one February morning I walked into the pasture and Flossy (Betsy's daughter I hadn't sold yet) had dropped a beautiful calf. We were so surprised; we did not know that at 9 months, Flossy had been bred when our neighbor's Gelbvieh bull kept hopping the fence. I'd figured Betsy was sold pregnant, but never dreamed that little Flossy was with-calf. We named him Friday for the day he was born and the dream that Marie recently had about a calf. Flossy produced delicious Jersey milk and I tried milking again. We were blessed with new tenants who wanted to milk, plus a slew of other friends who wanted to, and things worked well.

     We even bought another cow, with great plans in mind. May was a beautiful Jersey/Red Angus cross. She had a gorgeous brindle coat and she was bred. Not too long after, she dropped a bull calf and we named him Norman. All was well, but then a really tragic event occurred. One night a pack of feral dogs attacked and killed all six of Marie's sweet Nubian goats. We had hand raised most of them. Marie was away at college and for that I was thankful; the sight was one I won't forget. Over the next few weeks an anxiety came over me that was not easily shaken off. It was a long process of trying to make all of the other animals (the small ones) safe. My cow allergy worsened. I didn't sleep well.

     A month later we found May lying still in the pasture. She had died suddenly of bloat. We had a vet come out and run tests; it was a freak occurrence. I wondered what God was trying to tell us, to tell me. The stress became too much and we sold the rest of the cows--Norman to our neighbor and my dear Flossy and her Friday to a wonderful homeschooling/farmsteading family.  We also let go of one pony to the same family. In retrospect it was a dream which was not meant to last. That is what I spoke to my friend about, in sadness.

     Like the best of friends she listened, and she told me she was so sad for me. Then she said something that maybe I wasn't prepared to hear earlier, but could now. She said what a blessing there was even in the sadness. It was obvious to think she referred to the people who were gifted with our animals, and even that Marie was not home to see what happened to her precious goats. That was not all she meant. What she said that resonated deeply was, "There are so many people who will never do the things you have done, who will want to but have no farm or no means to have pets. But you always wanted horses and cows and goats and more. And for a brief time, you got to live that life of milking cows and raising goats. Maybe you will again, maybe you won't. But you did."

     She went on to tell me something we'd talked about before: "Life is full of so many puzzle pieces. We may never see them all put together, but our Lord does. He sees all the stages, all the beauty, the tragedy, and even His finished picture. We can trust that the pieces are placed before us by Him, that we can pick them up and turn them around and stare intently before placing them. Some we can move around. Some need to be put aside for another time." She made it sound so comforting, so deep and wise and true. Life would always involve change, and it would not always be easy, but we could trust the true builder of the puzzle, and we could be thankful for the pieces, even aspects of the difficult ones. Love, thankfulness and trust were the keys to working the puzzle.

     Driving home one day, pulling into our lane I saw the Robins return. Always a moment of joy in those first days, I remembered when my Mom was alive and the game she played with our landlord, Mrs. Mayo. Who would see the first Robin return after the long winter. I smiled and thought of Mom. My heart ached with missing her, a tear fell down my cheek but was replaced by a smile. What memories! I realized that some of the puzzle pieces would stay exactly where they were for the rest of my life, not to be picked up again. I might not see the finished picture, but much of what had been laid down and interlocked carefully--or even hastily or even forced--was there to stay.  And that was okay. It continues to be built. A beautiful and unique picture in the journey of a life.

An Old Dog

     In December of 2011 I decided that it was time to transfer my RN (Registered Nurse license) from Maryland to Kansas. Since I have not been employed as a nurse for a decade (other than in my own family!), I was required to take a Nurse Refresher course. I searched for an approved University and got underway.

     For RNs thinking about a refresher course, I highly recommend it. Yes, it's a bother, but for good reason. The toughest part is the required number of clinical hours. For Maryland it's 80, but for Kansas it's 180. That's a significant amount of time away from family--without pay! But it must be done and so I am in the middle of it.

     The course is self-pacing and I took my time over about 5 months to finish the didactic--or, online written--component. During that time I contacted local hospitals, nursing homes and school systems to create my clinical plan. One must design their own, securing permissions from the clinical sites and lining up precepters. The summer was busier than I expected and I didn't get started until August, but I am plugging away at it.

     Patient care has not really changed. Equipment has changed somewhat, as to be expected. Computer technology has changed the most. In my hospital, one unit still has handwritten charting identical to what I remember, but the rest incorporate 75-90% computerized charting. Pros and cons are probably obvious; it is what it is, and I...am learning. The patients are the best part. They are why I remained an RN for now 27 years.

     I am trying to make the best of every hour. In the last few weeks, besides all of the skills performed, I've been blessed to help on a delivery, instruct a new Mom how to nurse her baby, watch a little brother see his baby sister for the first time, help older patients ambulate, and simply encourage people. The bonds with new co-workers are forming swiftly and I am happy to be doing this again. Bruce is  managing the home very well while I'm away and the welcome home I get after each shift is priceless. "Why are you in that costume, Mom?" I tell them I am a nurse and they smile proudly and run and tell their siblings.

     It is all working out. I am still Mom and I love that the most. At a time such as ours with the economy shaky, it is the right time to reclaim my hard-earned RN. Mary Pat's LPN's have been my inspiration. They are some of the hardest working and loving individuals I have known. There are two local schools of nursing and I would like one day to help to educate future nurses like them.

     So this "old dog" is indeed learning new tricks, as well as re-learning some old ones. There is a Chinese proverb that says that you should "take your dragons to tea." I am. This is a little scary, but it is very, very rewarding.

All is well on the farm.

Ebbs and Flows and the Farmer's Spirit

 
    It amazes me that a year ago I shared pictures of the flooding Missouri River. Farms were ruined, families moved because of it. Those who stayed planted crops that, up until May, were doing great. Then the drought hit. Luckily, most harvested an early hay crop. But the corn that started off so energetically, a foot high by June, barely produced any ears and was dry by early August. God bless those farmers who persevered after the flood only to be hit by a drought the next season.

     Hay has doubled in price. There is less of it. I believe hopes of a second cutting were unfulfilled. It's a vicious cycle because the cattle still need to be fed. We normally don't start feeding hay until November. We have begun already.  Food prices will soar because of the limited hay and corn crops. If you didn't know it, corn products and by-products are in many, many foods.

     It is good if you can put in a garden for your family or be a member of a local community supported agriculture group. We have the latter here in town and we're members. I'm glad to support the local farmers. I keep thinking I'll get a garden in "this year," but it always seems to turn into "next year." It will happen one day. Mary Pat's school-bus driver tells me about her prolific garden. She crochets a blanket for her grandchild while Mary Pat is being strapped in, and she tells me all about it. Each year she puts up hundreds of quarts of vegetables. Her hard work and self-sufficiency inspire me.

     The farmers do, too. Our neighbors have been farming for generations. Vince helps us set round bales (giant five and a half foot diameter hay bales) with his big tractor. One day the front axle broke as he was lifting the bale high. Vince, almost 70,  popped down, rubbed his chin and just stared. I was impressed with his calm. I told him I'd probably be react by whining and fussing. He just looked at me with wise, clear eyes and said, "But that wouldn't change things." He turned back to the tractor and continued thinking out loud, "I have a brother with a welder, and I'll just get this off and have him help..." Later on I told his wife how thankful I was that it had happened at such a slow speed and not as he was driving over here. She said, "Well, we would've dealt with that, too."  I pushed, "But Vince could have been hurt!" She answered with the same calm as her husband. "We're farmers--that's part of farming life and we deal with what comes."

     Deal with what comes. A farmer I'd mentioned last fall during the floods was one who had to move. He's moved yet again to another farm on higher ground. He and his wife are happy. It could have been so much worse. They have each other and their family. And this new farm is actually closer to her parents and her church. It is probable that his crops have not done well this year. But I bet he'd be thankful that they weren't wiped out like last year.

     A verse in the Bible has been lived out by the farmers I know: "Be anxious for nothing, but by prayer and supplication make your requests known to God. And the Peace of God which passes all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Phillippians 4:6-7)

     I'd do well to remember that.

God bless you,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm

There are ways to support our country's farmers both locally and on a larger scale...check out Farm Aid. And don't forget to keep them in your prayers.