Time after time...

I have lived on Sabbath Rest Farm for over ten years. Every day is the same and every day is different. The same daily work…feed the cows, feed and muck the horses and donkeys, feed the barn cats… and the same seasonal work… put up hay, plant a garden, can and freeze produce, birth calves, cut back kudzu and multiflora rose… come around every year. Like housework, farm work repeats itself endlessly. On paper, this might seem boring but this is how I experience it.
Every morning, I get to walk downhill to the stable, sometimes by starlight and sometimes in sunlight, where I am greeted by love. The cats, Smudge and Barn Bud, rub against my ankles giving cat hugs. Before they will eat their food, they insist on being loved back. Katie and Shirley, the donkeys, come stand quietly, waiting for a back rub. Dixie and Junie B welcome me with soft nickers. The hay smells sweet as I lay it out for breakfast. Dixie comes out of her stall kicking up her heels, bucking in sheer delight. Junie B walks by and gives me a shoulder hug. I turn on the radio and muck the stalls to the sound of classical music. The physical exertion raises my heartbeat and I begin to “glow” a little. No true daughter of the South ever sweats… we glow. After dumping out the poop wagon, I walk up the hill, stopping to lay my head on each horse’s shoulder, smelling the lovely horsey smell, and I am at peace. In the evening, I repeat this process as I bed them down for the night.
Going to check on the cows offers the same opportunities. Driving up in the Kubota, the cows see me and come. The calves run with their tails in the air, fleet of foot and full of joy. The old women, Annie and Fanny and Tillie, move slowly now but can still stand their ground at the feed trough. Little Ferd, who is not really very little at all, usually brings up the rear. I dip out the feed in five gallon buckets and carry one bucket to each of the three feeders. As I walk, Biscuit tries to nose her way into the bucket but Sassy pushes her away. I lay out the first bucket and all the cows gather around the feeder allowing me to fill the other feeders in peace. As they eat, I scratch ears, rub backs, talk to them, squat down and eyeball the calves. Their curiosity will pull them to you if you are patient. One of my lasting memories of my father is the sight of him squatting down, surrounded by his herd of cattle, chewing on a grass stem, watching and assessing them. Frozen winter, mucky muddy spring, dry dusty summer, crisp autumn… the routine remains the same but is always different.
Most of us live routine lives, not boring necessarily, just lives that follow a pattern. The pattern can change. Our location can change. Our work can change. Routine, however, remains. How we choose to live our routine can bring depth, richness and joy, or it can bring boredom and whining. The glitterati, the one per cent, the Kardashians and all the other media darlings, have lives that may seem exciting from the outside perspective. I suspect though, they have a routine life underneath the apparent glamour.
Thank you, Dependable One, for the routine of my life and faith. The daily rounds keep me grounded in gratitude as I touch and feel the gifts in my life. The seasons of faith…Lent, Easter, Ordinary Time, Advent, Christmas, Epiphany… give my soul structure as I make my way through the everyday work of becoming more like you. Love you…