Snow is falling this morning at Sabbath Rest Farm. There has not been much snow this winter so I am rejoicing in the bright white soft silence. Church is called off in weather like this so I am settling down into a comforting sabbath rest for body and soul. Time to think...time to let the stirred up snow globe self float down to rest surrounded by beauty.
I am reminded of the wisdom of farmers in my family as I sit here in front of the fire this morning. There were a few sacred laws in my farm family that were understood as necessary and right. All farmers were judged by their adherence to and practice of these rules.
Number one... All animals in your care must be fed and checked before you can rest easily. In the mornings, feed your cows, horses, chickens, cats and dogs early and generously. In the afternoons, feed again making sure all have what they need for good health. If circumstances dictate, feed them before you feed yourself.
Number two... Build strong fences and repair them as they break. Five lines of barbed wire... one on top, one down low with three strands equally spaced in-between, stretched tightly on wooden posts with solid bracing... will keep cows from sticking their heads under the wire and popping it loose. Keep fence lines clean of weeds and as wire rusts or breaks, repair the small breaks to prevent trouble. Even with good fences, sometimes cows will still make a break for it just because they believe the grass is greener on the other side.
Number three... Take pleasure in the work you do on the farm and the beauty of the land around you. Sometimes the work is onerous, boring and physically demanding but even in the hardest work, gratitude and joy can be found. Throwing hay bales on the trailer, loading them in the barn, hot and sweaty, laughing at the mistakes, drinking water greedily, smelling the sweet dry grass, feeling the accomplishment of laying up provisions for your animals in the cold winter...
Number four... Be grateful for the gift of living on a farm. Not everyone gets to live on land they love, be good stewards of the earth, enjoy room to spread out body and soul, to breathe clean air, see sunsets and sunrises, starry nights, hear the night noises as animals move through the darkness that surrounds us, watch the passing of the seasons reminding me I am a creature, too.
These rules will stand me in good stead for Lent, I think. In tending to others, I am reminded that the Lenten journey is best done in community, community that holds me accountable in loving presence. Keeping my fences tended, my boundaries in good order, will keep me from roaming without purpose, will keep me focused on the work I need to do within myself with God’s help. And as I travel the muddy roads through Lent, I must remember to lift up my eyes to the hills that remind me of the Source, the Loving One who has gifted me with life and laughter and death and tears and sorrow, life that runs like a mountain river tumbling over rocks in abandon as it rushes to its final destination. I am grateful beyond measure for another Lenten season, time to remember, reconsider, and renew. Help me to be a good farmer this time around, Dear One, as I travel through this dark time. Amen.
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