I was standing in front of a sink full of dirty, soapy dishes, humming a little tune and trying to fit a rhyme or two in, as I am apt to do when given the blissful opportunity of mixing songs and suds. Suddenly, I heard the front door open and then slam. Moments later, Dad walked into the kitchen and announced, "Cali is in labor." Instantly, there was chaos as everyone left their chores, grabbed the nearest pair of available shoes and sped outdoors and down to the pasture, not wanting to miss the birth of our very first calf ever by our very first cow ever.
You see, when people ask us if we are farmers, we enthusiastically say "Yes!" and then laugh.
When I was just a little kid, I had a "normal" life. I lived in a neighborhood in a comfortable home that mom kept clean and played in my postage stamp sized yard every afternoon. In the mornings, I did school right there in my own house. I'd call that normal, but society likes to argue that it's not, so we'll just leave our discussion of homeschooling for another day and post. Okay ... where were we? Ah, yes. I had a completely carefree childhood.
When I was just a little kid, I had a "normal" life. I lived in a neighborhood in a comfortable home that mom kept clean and played in my postage stamp sized yard every afternoon. In the mornings, I did school right there in my own house. I'd call that normal, but society likes to argue that it's not, so we'll just leave our discussion of homeschooling for another day and post. Okay ... where were we? Ah, yes. I had a completely carefree childhood.
After much prayer, Mom and Dad decided to move our ever-growing family (there were six of us kids at that point) out to the country and start a small farm, in the attempt to teach us kids where food comes from and the labor that is involved in getting from the ground to your plate. We purchased a secluded plot of 5 acers and plunged in without a backward glance.
It is amazing to look back and realize how naive we were and what limited understanding we had of how farms work! Our goats came before their shelter was even ready, and the chickens, who followed soon after, began to tear apart the pitiful garden that didn't have a fence.
We are the kind of folks who dive in head first and learn things the hard way. And yet, I appreciate that kind of lifestyle - if you asked me 'why' on those rainy days when I have to milk the cow out in the rain, or on those blistering hot days when I am planting the green bean bed yet again because it was scratched out by guineas, I wouldn't be able to come up with a single reason why that lifestyle appeals to me. But if you chose to ask me some early morning when I am sitting on the front porch sipping my steaming coffee while waiting for the calf's bottle to warm, I'd glance out over the farm, sigh, smile and tell you that God is good.
My journey to loving the farm has been a long one. When we first moved there, I was only 9 and thought that it was quite a novelty. I was up bright and early every morning, ready to milk the goats and get into the days routine. Six years into farming, however, it was a totally different story. I was going through a tough time in my life (oh, the dreaded teenage years!), trying to fit in with and be accepted by the culture all around me. Farming wasn't "cool" anymore, so I learned to drop and change my ideals as I saw peers change. I wanted to leave home, to have a career, to be myself and I certainly didn't want to be seen as the "little hick redneck girl who milks goats and lives a boring, controlled, scheduled, legalistic life." Woah ... quite a mouthful. Through a series of events that would take too long to mention here {maybe someday I'll tell you the story =)}, God got a hold of my heart, turning it back to home and the circumstances that He had given me. As I confessed my selfish ambitions to Him, I began to see the beauty in the lifestyle, the people, the family, the blessings, the chores, the daily grind that He had given me. It almost became like a treasure hunt, or a "glad game" opportunity (any "Pollyanna" fans out there?!?!).
Sometimes, I feel like my days consist of mountains of laundry, milking cows, cooking for hungry menfolk, washing dishes and washing dishes and washing dishes. And sometimes, I have to remind myself that the most fulfilling place to be is smack dead center in the will of God. He gave me my circumstances, and if I cheerfully obey, He can use those small, seemingly insignificant daily tasks to conform me to His image. Hallelujah, what a Savior!
On this particular Saturday morning, we were all anxiously awaiting the arrival of our calf. Cali, our milk cow, had been moved to our farm a few short weeks before {seeeee? diving head first again - we don't even had a shed for her!} and was overdue by one long week.
At the first signs of labor, everyone scrambled outside. I quickly shoved my feet into a pair of flipflops that were two sizes too small and raced across the yard, hopped over the fence and sped down the pasture. Without warning, my feet slid out from under me and I landed with a plop directly on top of a cow pie. Normally, I'd get up and go directly inside to change, but this morning was a big exception, and pausing only for a second to survey my jammed thumb, I took off again.
After watching Cali strain and push for near an hour, we finally helped her welcome her calf into the world - a large, strong bull. We named him Scotland, dubbed "Scottie", in honor of Cali, whose real name is Caledonia. We Scots mean to finish strong ;)
It's now been a week, and we love having the playful little guy on the farm. I took some photos of him during feeding time the other night, and I thought you all might like to see him.
Gosh! Isn't he gorgeous??
Annnnnnd...... drumroll .... my personal favourite! He loves to play hide-and-seek with me every time I try to snap a picture. If you look closely, you can see his loooong eyelashes peeping right above the red bar. #SWOON
Until next time,
Olivia
Olivia
