Lenten Living Waters

We have a new baby on the farm, born on Valentine’s day. Sassy had a little heifer with a white heart shaped mark on her forehead. What else could we name her but Sweetheart? She joins her half sister Tinkerbell born three weeks ago. They will have fun being playmates this spring. All our babies names begin with the same first letter as their mom’s name. That helps us know who belongs to whom. This system breaks down with Annie and her daughter Anna Belle when they have babies. Two A’s make it a little difficult to keep them separated. It is the season for babies, new life beginning to peep out all around the farm.
The yarrow is sprouting underneath the layer of leaf mulch. Violas are blooming and tiny fern fronds are unfolding. Green spears of daffodil and narcissus are pushing their way up into the light. Underneath the brown thatch of grass is the green of tender growth. No new leaves yet but the buds are swelling on the blueberry bushes. Last year the blueberries budded out too early and were killed back by a late freeze. There were no blueberries to pick last year and Matthew was disappointed.
The cows and Junie B are tired of a hay diet. They race to the farmhouse yard when Michael opens the gate to let them graze the farm. They know the farmhouse yard is full of perennial rye, sweet and juicy green grass, spring candy for cows. The piles they leave behind will be scooped with a shovel for flower fertilizer. A nice system... they cut the grass and provide fertilizer at the same time. Francisco and Ariel, two of the yearlings, always maneuver around the gate to the grass on the other side. Teenagers! You got to love them.
Spring rains have begun leaving muddy mucky mess everywhere. It is hard to complain about the mess though because we are still in the grip of a deep drought. Here we are surrounded by plenty of visible water... streams, rivers, rivulets everywhere you look but our groundwater is drying up all over the mountains. Increased demand from the rapid growth with a limited supply is a dangerous combination. Mountain land is rocky and water often does not percolate easily to the lower levels. It is ironic that the wild waterfalls and rushing rivers that are such an integral part of the mountain experience do not reflect the water crisis in our community.
Our partners, Tim and Jeannie, have had two wells run dry. They now have an underground cistern system that collects rainwater to use. Our neighbor Gary’s well ran dry last summer but refilled. Another neighbor had to drill two wells, both with a very slow flow, in order to have enough water if he is careful. Water is not taken for granted on our farm. For all the surface appearance of abundance, the reality is an underground scarcity.
Outlanders come and marvel at the scenic waterfalls and rivers. They gaze at the mountains streams with moss covered rocks tumbling down mountain sides. City folks, insulated from the reality of drought by location and water authorities, do not feel the pinch until the situation is desperate. But farmers know. Farmers taste the dust that billows up from the gravel roads to their homes. They watch fields turn brown and crunchy in the heat. And when the grass grows slowly, they have to buy hay because their fields did not produce. If they have to buy hay, hard decisions have to be made about keeping livestock. There is a glut of horses for sale simply because folks can’t feed them.
And herein lies the crux of our Lenten observances. We have a surface appearance of abundance. We are busy about the works of peace and justice, shaking the established order of things up. Our lives are crammed full of good deeds, good living and good times. But underneath the surface of our filled to overflowing lives run dry stream beds of the soul. The drought slips up on us and we are surprised when our wells run dry. Depression, anxiety, worry, angst, loss of faith, restlessness, continuous anger and frustration, no sense of meaning, lives lived by rote, responding to the latest crisis time after time... all these signal a drought, a dry well. The rains of spiritual practices such as daily prayer and Bible reading will help fill our wells. The practice of silence in the middle of our noisy worlds will percolate down to the bedrock of our souls. Spending time outdoors in quiet meditation will help our souls become the juicy creations they were intended to be. It is time to let the waters of mercy flow for me and my soul this Lent. Only when I am filled up can I be the Living Water for those in the world around me. May it be so.