Surrender

What a word - "Surrender." If you look at the context people use it under most of the time, it is often linked with defeat. The only time I can think of "surrender" being used somehow favorable falls in the category of romance novels. 

  "Violet's tumult of thoughts and hesitations slowly surrendered to the line of passionate kisses the captain was blazing down the length of her graceful throat." 

 As a woman of an ever more certain age, I'm not sure that's even a positive use of the term. 

 The dictionary also looks on the word in a downhearted light. Giving in to the enemy? How often are we at war?

...how often ARE we at war? With ourselves, with the people and world around us... with the universe. Hm.

At the bottom of the definition, there is another term: "yielding." Let's deep-dive into that, shall we?

Surrender as a positive idea came to me in a yoga class when a teacher encouraged students to "surrender to the pose." By this she encouraged first noticing your whole body, paying attention to areas where you feel discomfort or tension. Instead of letting the discomfort create more discomfort and tension in your brain or other areas of the body, you soften. Sounds weird, right? In that moment of tension, you practice keeping your breath calm, cool, and easy; and aim to bring ease to the tense places, not by backing out the pose; but instead by trying to relax the muscles and be comfortable just being where you are. With all of it. 

THIS, my friends, is surrender. 

Inside the old barn. 

Surrender doesn't mean giving up. It means allowing what IS to be. Hurt and hope, uncertainty and determination, fear and faith... all woven together in an extraordinary fabric that ultimately becomes something we can't begin to imagine. Surrender doesn't ask you to allow your purpose to be defeated, but instead to find peace in the process of finding out what your true purpose is. 

On the surface, just a couple of weeks ago, surrender for me was allowing the idea that we may have to rip our old barn down and use salvageable remnants to create something new. That hurt, and even still there was hope in it. What hurt worse was thinking nothing would happen with it in Uncle Hank's lifetime; and we surrendered to that too.

That's when the shift started. 

Today, I'm writing to tell you that there is work happening as we speak on the barn. Before the end of this month, arguably the weakest spot in the structure will be strengthened. This is happening because a kind man made time to survey the space inside and out, top to bottom; educate me a bit on the Amish perspective, and then took on the work. 

That guy will get a blog post all to his own. Maybe several, as early on in this process, he'd approached me about creating a how-to guide for other people with limited funds and giant structures who want to reclaim them. There's room for everything in cyberspace, isn't there? 

For now, the back wall is the place to start. Right in the middle of the barn. Aside from a patch over the biggest hole in the roof and new cement to fill the hole the woodchucks made in the foundation, the difference won't be noticeable from the outside. 

It's what's on the inside that counts though, right? 

Gratitude, Hope, and Drizzle

Levi shakes his head as he kicks at the cement at the base of the barn.

Levi shakes his head as he inspects the center posts, completely disconnected at the base.

Levi never looks up once. 

We all looked up. Only Levi looked down.

"Raise the whole barn up. Scrape the old cement away. Pour new. Lower the barn and then start repairing." That will cost a lot of money, and take a lot of time. 

Photo by Brianna Santellan on Unsplash

"There are good pieces. You could tear the barn down, and use what's good to build something new... something smaller."

With my gratitude, we parted. I walked through the fall drizzle, back to the house. 

At least he showed up. How many others have I called, described this crazy project, and been told "I'll get back to you in a couple of weeks," and never hear from them again?

The thought of tearing this behemoth down hurts. I feel the weight of this as though my shoulders and heart turned to lead. I have ideas as big as that barn and even if no one else can, I can imagine it strong and welcoming those ready to find respite within its great walls. 

The idea of using pieces of the barn to create other things had occurred to me. We've used some of the old tin to create cupboard doors in our house. I've seen several Pinterest crafts and wanted to use items from the barn to create them - it's a matter of time really. I'm awfully short on time. 

Two teens, a full-time job - two full-time jobs really. No one counts cooking and cleaning for a family as a job; but those of us that do it know that it is. A couple of my past occupations have sprung back to life in fun ways - I feel like I'm burning the candle at both ends, and somehow enjoying the burn. 

The barn is hard to fit in, and yet every time I go outside, there it looms. Not only is this relic in need of my attention, there is a dear man who knows as I do that this relic deserves my attention. 

Levi's words, penned in a lovely "hand crafted" card purchased at a department store. A little glitter, an oversized butterfly, and a realistic perspective written with love and greatest hope of not breaking a dear man's heart.

A week later, we sit in his living room. It's not so easy to get out of his chair these days. Two hand-crafted canes of his own making work better than one now. The easy smile and clarity in his eyes remains unchanged. Every time I'm with him, my grandmother — his sister — feels closer. 

The idea of building something new is intriguing! We could mark the pieces - somehow note their original purpose. While the ideal is saving the present structure, there is hope and innovation in the idea of something new. And the pieces are incredible, really. Where could anyone find 12" square posts made of solid oak these days?

"Why you could put it anywhere you wanted! You could make it look however you wanted. Maybe it could look like the old barn. Maybe it could have a gabled roof. I wonder what you could do with all of that old cement?" 

We agree bringing ourselves to tear down the old barn - that's the hardest part. 

"But you have time," he says. "You have time. That's in your favor."

His gaze unwavering. We can't really do anything in winter anyway. Best to start in the spring. 

I think he's turning 92 this month. He doesn't want to talk about it. 

"We're skipping this one," he says. The easy smile may fade from his lips at times, and yet somehow exudes from his every fiber. He is peaceful. The joy in his heart is unmistakable. 

I hugged him goodbye before he had time to try to get up from his chair. 

In the quiet bubble of my car, I can fold. Head on the steering wheel, tears slide in a steady stream. 

Hope surrounds the fall drizzle within. 

"That Old Barn Isn't Worth Saving, Anyway."

Photo by SLP Photography

Yep. That's what she said.
Not me, my daughter. Standing with her back to our front door, arms folded, looking at me and her dad.

"That old barn isn't worth saving, anyway."

The Mr. and I exchanged glances. We instantly knew that didn't come FROM her.
That came THROUGH her.

As usual, when someone says something that is so unbelievably inconsiderate, and wrong, I stand staring with my mouth hanging open. No response. I don't listen with intent to argue. I listen to hear and understand what is being said. Sadly (or perhaps gladly in the end), that leaves me ill-prepared to supply a witty, or insightful comeback.

Thankfully, her dad is a little quicker on the draw than I am.

"You know honey, I'm sure there are people that think that," he began with the sweet tone he reserves solely for his best girl; "but there are a handful of people that don't."

And in this case, that is all that matters.

In a larger sense, in a world view sense though, it points to a greater societal illness.

WASTE.

Disposable society? You are not kidding!

Why preserve something old when you can build something new? Why recycle plastic straws, they're little, what does it matter? Why try to fix a broken item when you can go buy another (it's often faster and sometimes that replacement costs less than the repair)?

And lately, when faced with a pandemic...

It sure seems like some people must see this as a way to thin out our elder and more needy population. When you continue to live as you normally do, despite local, state, and federal officials daily edicts to STAY HOME - what else is anyone to think?

The only conclusion is that, just like some people feel about my old barn, old people, disabled people (because if it comes down to a hospital triage situation, my daughter's life could be deemed less essential than that of an EMS worker or law enforcement officer. Sit with that for a moment - would you want to have to make that choice?), people with chronic conditions such as asthma (that's a lot of people!) are DISPOSABLE.

This moment in time is unprecedented. Never before has society moved at such a swift and careless pace. Never before has it taken a pandemic to slow us down... and never before has our country shown such blatant disregard for the guidance of our public officials. Republican, Democrat alike being equally ignored. Obviously, not by all, but as we know, it only takes a few.

Though my husband is essential, and reporting to work as usual, we are doing our best to respect the guidance supplied by our officials. We trust that the information conveyed by experts in the public health and medical fields is far superior to whatever meme we may have stumbled across on social media, or a text from that one friend that seems to be an expert at EVERYTHING.

And for the record, we're still going to work to restore our barn. Post by post, of both wood and digital, as it seems that is the best we can do right now. Regardless of what the hip, cool, and careless may think, we will NOT throw something away with as much history, strength, and sentimental value as that structure holds. My biggest hope now is that the restrictions are lifted and our region is well enough that Uncle Hank will get to be here the day work begins.

Outing the Barn Diva

Friends have encouraged me to share more in-depth and cohesively about my special needs child.
That's a hard one. As a parent, and as my children have grown, I've given thought to their personal privacy: what would they want me to say about them?

In my mind at least, revealing information about a special needs child is something like outing a person's sexual preference before they were ready. As a child grows, it is possible they will find ways to compensate and maybe that information might never need to be shared. How much do you want the world to know about you?

My kids aren't circus performers. I don't expect their lives to be lived for anyone's pleasure. Sharing their joys and successes has been automatic. Thinking you can use social media to bring happiness to more people seems a bit of a no-brainer!

There are aspects of one of my children in particular that sharing might be useful to the world. The one whose birth began the process of my undoing, completely made over my view on the world... and ultimately fuels a passion that hasn't been fully realized. How to do that without "outing" her?

Because anyone who knows us knows exactly which child I'm talking about. At 18, she is a bit more comfortable with who she is. Not entirely though. It's not something she likes to talk about. She doesn't want to be identified by her label.

Who does? I've experienced depression and anxiety since I was 17. I'd prefer you call me Heather.

So today, I'll "out" me.

I'm the parent of two people, and one is a person on the Autism spectrum. It's been the most profoundly painful, joyous, soul-shredding journeys I could have ever imagined for myself. It has completely rewritten the course I thought my life would take. And, quite frankly, that has really pissed me off sometimes. I've mourned my own dreams. I've feared my future. I LOVE my daughter, and I deeply fear what happens to her when I die.

Because what if no one loves her and cares for her like I do? She's my world, and my heart. She pushes me past the bounds of what I think I can do, and who I thought I would be, and she has no idea that is what she's doing. She just knows I am bigger, better, and capable of more than I think I am.

I hide sometimes, because there are a lot of people who really don't care about this story, me, or how any of it turns out. I was trying to be small. I don't want to bother anyone, or get in anyone's way. I share the good stuff, and hide the hard stuff as much as I can. I was raised not to seek pity, or charity.

So, I sucked it up in the early years when people said there was nothing wrong with her. I allowed the words of people who said it was my fault, that I was a bad mom, to seep into my subconscious. That self-doubt kept me from pursuing interventions for her. I simultaneously felt the knife wielded by thoughts of failing as a parent in my heart, and the scorching eyes of judgement from those who thought I was still overreacting.  But I finally had elementary school teachers behind us and began to pursue therapies and educational interventions that they suggested, and ultimately proved fruitful. When a child who was projected to never be able to read and probably not be very verbal is one day giving speeches at the county dairy princess pageant?

That's the point when you start caring a whole lot less about the naysayers. 

I did mention depression and anxiety. They still exist. This is another topic I feel a need to advocate for. What originally started to push me through the lowest of lows was a combination of returning to the family farm to milk cows, and yoga. I had an incredible yoga teacher/mentor I still love and respect dearly tell me that cows have a grounded energy that was therapeutic for my creative, ungrounded, natural state of being. Those words resonated deeply.

I pursued becoming a yoga teacher, not because I thought I was really going to be a yoga teacher (that is a retirement goal - see that whole 'I had my whole life planned' piece); but because other people seemed quite passionate that was a right-path for me. Even my late father-in-law... one of the last things I remember him saying to me was "I thought you were going to be a yoga teacher."

Through YogaFit, I did attain my yoga teacher certification. It was an incredible process! I came alive through the training; gaining insights and strength... and awakening this inner light that I still feel glowing in the center of my chest. I felt a strong connection to our divine universe, and landed a job that took me away from the literal practice and teaching of yoga, and put me in a place to figure out how to use those teachings in the everyday world around me.

During one of those last trainings, I was in a master class, taught by Beth Shaw. I had what teachers call an "emotional release." In reality, it was an awakening.

We were moving into meditation, and I was reminded of an event a friend and I had put together to celebrate our school's Special Olympics bowlers at the end of their season. I had gotten some pretty tacky little gifts together from area dollar stores, and invented awards for as many of the kids as I could. Lucky socks for high-scoring bowlers, and foil-wrapped, chocolate eggs became "Awards of Eggselence" for all!

The laughs that moment got... I hope those are among the last things I hear before I close my eyes on this plane of existence. I hope they live in my memory with as much vibrance as they do now.

The moment relived itself for me in that meditation, and, laying on the floor on my yoga mat in a hotel conference area, surrounded by yogis and in the glow of positive energy after a shade more than an hour of practice: I cried. I cried and cried the relentless cry of a person whose deep purpose was growing through their heart and out of their chest.

I need to bring light to a shadowy place. I need to bring joy to people who struggle.

NEED to.
MUST do.

Autumn was given to me to show me the way.
The girl is my beacon.
Do I know what I am doing?
NO!

And I was shown a way to move forward.

We have this old barn, and I have a girl who LOVES cows. And I know personally that cows are therapy, that yoga is therapy, and we have a world where people are getting farther and farther away from the farm. In my mind, the farm is the very thing that grounds a person in what is right in the world. Another point of advocacy for me is not losing agriculture. Cows are grounding, and they teach us to be calm, steady nurturers. Yoga is a moving meditation that can also bring joy, peace, and also enlightenment.

What if we can bring those things together in our old barn? What if we can bring people, and especially our special needs community, to this barn and provide moments of joy and peace? What if we can reconnect people to farming?

And how do we do that when we know that we also have to prepare for the future of a child who might never be fully self-sufficient? There are no extra resources we can sell, and taking out a loan that keeps us from setting back funds for her — or worse — is still lingering after we're gone, is not an intelligent choice.

I set up a gofundme page because I believe in the power of intention. Yoga taught me to open ALL channels of possibility. In so doing, I began my chant to the universe that I am ready to accept the path the light in my chest is pulling me towards. Faith is overpowering fear. I will explore all options - AM exploring the options - and with enough time, patience, and breath, I will succeed in realizing my purpose.

Compromising my time as a parent or to my family any more than I do with my job is not an option I choose. I've had well-meaning people suggest all sorts of possible side gigs, and I recall a quote I find particularly true: "Women are expected to work as though they don't have children, and raise children as though they don't have jobs."

It is a blessing to me that my work environment is incredibly pro-family. This mission will need to be pro-family too. It might be something that ultimately employs one or more of us. A big dream is that it could employ members of our special needs community too! My commitment to still be present for my family means this project may move slowly. Time, patience, and breath are all that is needed.

Barnyard Perspective

Have you ever seen this barn?

Photo courtesy SLP Photography

You have! It's our barn! If you've driven by, then you know this side. But all I've shown on the internet is this side:

Does it look like the same place to you? Our barn has two different looks: one side covered in tin, the other likely the original barn board siding.

My cousin (and treasured friend), Stacey, is a photographer. She has blessed this project with her energy and talents. Together, we intend to chronicle the historic agricultural structures around us. What started as a passion project in hopes of energizing the effort to restore this barn is turning into a really joyous adventure with someone I look forward to spending more time with.

Though Stacey's first talent isn't videography, she's helped me and my daughter do some video work for the barn. We're hoping to share some digital tours of the place. I am so impressed and excited to share the recording! I'm learning it may take a YouTube channel to get it done. Stay tuned.

Let's go back to the barn.
When I saw the new image, I was struck by the difference in perspective. I walk nearly every weekend on the road. I see the West side of the barn fairly regularly. Did I ever think to take a picture of it from this angle? Nope. I took a picture the way I see the barn from the side I see it the majority of the time.

How incredible is the new image? Look at the lighting, look at how different it looks! Another eye appreciated it from a completely different angle. Now we have another facet to the story. When we tell the stories of other barns, we will have another set of eyes helping to tell these stories. Our capacity to do this project justice has gained serious depth.

Where this project is concerned, more is more! More energy, more perspectives, and more positive are appreciated.

*********
This year we intend to make the first repairs to our century-old barn. If you would like to help with this, our fledgeling gofundme page is here for you to share or contribute to if you are so inclined.

Water Flows

Hope springs eternal.

Springs. Why do you suppose the word "springs" was chosen there?
Spring like the season?
Or spring, like water.

Hope flows like water. It seems effortless sometimes. When hope dries up, it's like a well going dry. In a way, water is hope, and hope is water.

Our valley is FULL of water! So much so, that there is a well (many locals are wholly familiar) that runs, just up the road from our house. People come regularly to get water. Some people call it "Jesus's Fountain," perhaps because no one really knows how long it's been there.
Turns out that well was an important piece to how the farm here was once managed.

Imagine, farming before electric and running water.
How?

Milking by hand is a given, naturally.
But once milk is collected, it has to be kept cold to prevent bacteria from forming. That may have been the only thing that was easier in winter - but how did dairy farmers do it in the summer?
With water.
At our old barn, there was a trough of water that cans of milk were sunk into to keep the milk cold. Sometimes, according to Uncle Hank, the water would "fail." So they took their cans of milk to the well down the road. At that time, there was a big trough here. Milk would be kept cold in cans in the trough here overnight.

If you've ever lugged a milk can around, you know they are not light. It doesn't get any better, once they are filled with milk! Horses surely pulled the cans by wagon to the trough, but you still had to get them on and off the wagon, and lowered into the trough, and then back out again.

________________________________________________________________________
Thanks so much for your time reading this post! Work to begin restoring our old barn will begin this spring. To join or share the cause, please visit gf.me/u/w9mhpd

And the Haymow Can Be a Yoga Studio

I Quit.

Almost.

Wanted to...
Thought I should.

Got overwhelmed.
Felt misdirected.
Got caught up in being ignored, used, and disrespected.

But here's the thing.
It's all in my head.
Those things are happening, they are real.
I'm focusing on something else, instead.

Overwhelmed means ABUNDANCE.
Misdirected? Perhaps the goal is near.
Mistreated? All in how you view it:
Could be their ego, could be their FEAR.

I'm brave enough for everyone.
Stronger than they know.
Smart enough to see the truth:
You manifest your destiny - you choose the way you go.

So friends, I am still working
Still in this restoration game.
My barn may be 100 this year.
We can give it a fresh face - maybe even a name.

This path comes from my very core.
It breathes my every breath.
What's old will again be new.

My sole intent
Aim true

Certainly

I WILL.

A Barn of a Different Color

We live in a colorful world, indeed. Some people see it strictly black and white.

Photo Credit: KNM Bliss Baked Goods

Some observe a rather astounding range of gray between the black and white. Some get so lost in a grand spectrum of color they never notice a single shadow.

What would the world be, without all of those different perspectives?
Don't you want your accountant to be a fairly black and white kind of person? And yet, can you imagine that mindset on someone you were consulting with on paint for your home?

It ALL counts. It all matters! We all have value in this world. Perspectives we don't agree with have value. Perspectives that hurt us have value — even if only to test our dedication to our own knowledge.

When it comes to this barn project, there will be LOADS of perspectives. They will all be worth considering. Some will be discarded. All will be appreciated.

What's important is to remember the WHYs:

• A young lady who has made more gains than anyone thought possible
• A senior gentleman who would like to see his family farm restored to his mind's eye view
• A goal to prove old barns can be reborn to unique purposes that better our greater world

This weekend was quite extraordinary for the person mentioned in that first bullet. Her wonderful friends Katelyn, Sophie, Tesika and Madison, first surprised her with a celebratory birthday lunch at her favorite place, the Olive Garden. In this season of gratitude, it's well worth taking a moment to mention all that these young women have done to mentor their friend. Through the Dairy Princess program, and the Chautauqua County 4-H Dairy Project, these young people have assisted, encouraged, and befriended someone who at first, was really hard to connect with. It's taken years, but they have created an indelible bond. 

As I follow social media posts in Autism groups, I become more and more aware of how lacking in friendships our special needs community members are. They crave connection, just as we do. They often don't understand why they have trouble making and keeping friends. Communication differences make forging and building those relationships hard. The isolation that happens because communication is so difficult makes the relationships that do take hold so much more valuable and necessary than other typical friendships we might experience. If you have a chance to reach out to a person on the spectrum, please do. If you connect, please don't ever let go. 

Following lunch, our tribe of young friends drove my girl to Hills Valley Farm, where she became the proud owner of a Brown Swiss calf named Satin. The calf resides at the farm next door: her grandfather the primary caretaker with Autumn planning to assist at every available moment. Likely, our barn will never be ready for Satin to inhabit before she becomes a milking cow. Perhaps though, her daughters will grow up here. 

Today, none of that matters to these two. 

That said, it still matters to me. 

We're working on estimates. Working on putting a dollar value on what we think we can do this spring. It's not easy. There are different ideas on how things should be done - that whole black and white/gray/rainbow perspective thing is making itself unmistakably apparent. 

The Barn Diva is aiming HIGH. Why not? 

I'm not sure if I am scaring or frustrating people, but so be it. This is not a project where "good enough" is going to cut it. I believe there's magic in our barn. I can't wait to share some history, and talk to people who are ready to contribute their barn stories to this blog! Together, we can create something that benefits generations to come. 

There's no room for low-balling here. 

A mission is forming. It's about our barn, and your barn. It's about creating places people can go to find out how farming was, how it is, and why it changes. It's about showing why this way of life matters, and why all people should have a connection to farm. 

I haven't written much about yoga on my barn blog - but they are connected. Yoga aims to ground us - to build the connection of our minds to our bodies, and our bodies to earth. In doing so, our thoughts are more grounded, our emotions more stable. I wasn't long into my yoga practice before I realized that farming is truly a type of yoga - that cows embody a calming energy that can be therapeutic, and the physical demands of farming work to solidify our mind-body connections ("sensory organizing" in therapy-speak!). 

People leaving the farm harms our society as a whole. We're disconnecting from a reality we desperately need. In so doing, we're allowing fear to erode our food system. That fear ultimately makes it more difficult for families with limited resources to make sound nutrition choices. We get so worried about if we should go organic (and then the cost) or about GMOs, that we give up and sit down with our pop and chips because somehow they seem more affordable and comforting. Do you see what just happened there? 

... ANY vegetable and ANY milk is better than pop and chips! 

If you live it... or if you ask a farmer. I've seen the light go on for so many as they speak with our dairy princesses. I've had the honor of turning that light on for a few myself! We need more opportunities to make that happen. People need old barns and as many avenues as we can create to connect with animals. We live in a huge world, and yet digital technology allows us to shrink it. A rainbow of thought you can fit in your phone. 

It's up to each one of us to create the rainbow. 

Birth Days

Birth days are a big deal. October is a HUGE birthday month in this family! Both grandmothers (and on the same day, no less!), a couple of aunts, and my son to mention a few. This is all quickly followed by Miss Autumn. Who, as we said in the last post, will turn 18 this year.

And if you read the last post, you know there's something big in store for her! Something that looks a bit like this...

And if you've read any of the other recent posts, you know this DEFINITELY feels like the cart before the horse! It's time to have a place on our place where this girl can keep her animals. Yes, there is a farm next door where she learns from her grandpa and grows by the day. It's great, and it is also a crutch. We need to see what she is made of - if she has the dedication to take this on and care for her animals day in, day out. Of course she will have help, but she deserves to test her wings and see what she is capable of.

And if it works for her, might it have the potential to help others like her in a variety of ways?
We think so.

And the barn needs to be the barn of old again. I've told you there is a senior gentleman that also finds this an important mission. What is the thing that grounds you? Where is your base? What brings you peace and comfort? For him, I think our barn does many of those things. He wants to see it restored, and because of him, there is a sense of urgency around this project that there never was before.

SO - as we continue to look for grants and I continue to draft my book (that part probably doesn't make sense - hang tight - it will in time) - we may start a gofundme account. We're hoping to talk to some friends with financial knowledge and experience with these types of campaigns before diving in.

Another Brown Swiss Calf,
because there's no such thing as too much cute!

The husband and I are unsettled about this step. It feels like begging. It feels like it has the potential to take advantage of friends and loved ones. At the very least, it feels like we might guilt trip people whose money would be better spent taking care of themselves and their loved ones than furthering our cause.

We don't want that.

The upshot is, it could unite people with similar passions to our cause. Historic restorations are environmentally conscious things to do! People might want to contribute just because they will have a hand in restoring a piece of the past. People might want to contribute because truly, they just don't make anything like they used to. This is worth saving as a testament of things that were built to stand the test of time.

People might want to contribute because our special needs friends deserve a shot at living to their true potential. They deserve freedom and independence: as much as can safely be afforded them. In school jargon, we talk about LRE: Least Restrictive Environment. So perhaps people will want to contribute because our girl deserves that chance.

People might want to contribute because they understand or can empathize with the crush of responsibility the parent of a special needs child feels to somehow ensure that their child will be safe, well-cared for, and financially secure all of their days. LONG after their parents have departed the earth. That's a scary one for people whose entire savings goes directly to school and property taxes Every. Single. Year. That's the one that wakes you up in the dead of night. That's what makes you contemplate things that force you to set your ego aside and do things that you wouldn't have in any other possible storyline that could have been your life.

People might want to join this cause because there is magic in bringing the past to life for our community of advanced citizens. It's a tangible statement to their worth: a living legacy to their lives and contributions to our world as it stands today. THIS matters, and so do they! The idea of a nonagenarian getting to see a piece of his childhood returning to its former glory? That might make you set aside your pride and do some crazy things too!

So that's where we are. We've gained a contact that can help with a business plan. Gained the support of a skilled builder who can guide the project. Now we need to talk about gofundme.

What would you do?

Hiatus

/hīˈādəs/

Learn to pronounce

noun

a pause or gap in a sequence, series, or process.
"there was a brief hiatus in the war with France"

1. 
   

   Last week, an unintended hiatus in the writing progress happened. Didn't even make it a month before Life Interruptus decided to run naked and screaming while banging cymbals through my routine! Life Interruptus can be a real pain. It can also be really fun. Thankfully, the wild child brought good things.

   
   

   Except the update that put my laptop, and my writing on pause. 

   
   

   Actually, it was more the evening events happening that put my writing on pause. That and my lack of determination to come home and WRITE the 30 minutes every night that I intended! When discipline decides to get into a competition with sleep, sleep is going to win. Unless the Anxiety trump card gets thrown - and honestly, it did! But what that amounted to was 2AM laundry detail. 

   
   

   So I took a week off. There are going to be a couple of nights this week I don't see much writing happening either. 

   
   

   The great news is, there are still things to share. Still progress being made.

   
   

   Not barn progress per se, but things that maybe will get to live in the barn someday progress. 

   
   

   *****WARNING***** PLEASE READ NO FURTHER IF YOU CANNOT KEEP A SECRET****

   
   

   You see, I have a kiddo turning 18 next month. 

   Yes, EIGHTEEN. Every parent will tell you their kid is not like any other kid. Every parent will tell you their kid is special. Mine is too. She's not going to college. We're not sure what the future holds for her. There's one thing we know:

   The girl LOVES cows. 

   
   

   She says "cows are my spirit animal." Good thing she was born to a family that is still connected to farm, right? 

   
   

   She was born to a family that has registered Holsteins. She loves them!

   And she also loves Brown Swiss.

   Oh Me Too!

   Except, I've never owned a Brown Swiss. Never even considered that one. 

   My girl on the other hand... She's considered owning a Brown Swiss. A couple of years ago, my girl decided one day, she was GOING to own a Brown Swiss. 

   
   

   SO, for my soon-to-be 18-year-old, who will not have me wringing my hands over helping her fund tuition, there will be a Brown Swiss Calf. The Good Lord Willing and all goes well, she will be a show calf and the beginning of my girl's very own Brown Swiss cow family. My dad is the cattleman in our little tribe. My girl is incredibly lucky to have him invested in this journey, and ready to help her with trying to develop her own Brown Swiss cow family. I love their relationship and am greatly looking forward to being in the back seat on their journey. 

   
   

   My girl is also an alternate dairy princess for our county. She's excited her grandpa is taking her to an event this week. She said "I get grandpa all to myself! I'm his partner in crime." 

   
   

   Sometimes she says things like that, and when she walks away I just look up and breathe "thank you." 

   
   

   My dad is for my girl what his mom was for me... the greatest blessing in life. Everyone should get to have someone like that.

   
   

   So for those of you who know her and have shared links about cow cuddling... know that still whirls in my mind. Those of you who know her know what cows and farm have done for her. Those in the therapy fields who know her understand that there may be no better therapy on earth than FARM. 

   
   

   It's time you also know there is a vision here that sees us one day sharing the opportunities my girl has had with other humans - especially the ones that aren't like others - the ones that are special. 

   
   

   The writing will come back. Last week, we were living. The spice for the writing is in the living. 

The Hope in a Lilly... and her Lillyanne

Let me tell you the story of Lilyanne.

It begins with her mother, Lilly, who was born in April, 2001. I was living in Michigan, pregnant with my first baby, and had recently lost a good friend to colon cancer. I had planned to call and tell her of my pregnancy when I got home from work that Good Friday. Instead, I came home to a message from her mother on my answering machine that she had passed away. Turns out, it wasn't such a good Friday.

Lilly was born a few days after that. When I lived away from home, my new calves kept me feeling connected to the farm. Grounded and centered in who I was, where I came from, and what really mattered to me in life. Lilly's birth gave me hope and reminded me that by fall another birth would illuminate my world in ways a million calves would never be able to.

I kept Lilly's picture at my desk at work. She was always the first cow I thought of as those early years went by. She grew and brought forth six daughters of her own, three of which did not survive their youth for exceptionally unique, unforeseen and inescapable reasons.

As she aged, Lilly developed a unique personality and penchant for unpredictable behavior which usually hit it's peak just as she was about to calve. She instinctively knew that oxytocin release could induce labor and was found at the end of one gestation letting a calf help her induce her own labor. She was a genius! Within 24 hours, she gave birth to her daughter, Lollypop.

She got a little reckless after that. The next year, she decided to jump into the spreader shed on her way to the calving pen: a four foot drop to a concrete floor! Nobody thought a nine-year-old cow was going to take such a leap! Not only did she land on her feet, she turned around and tried to climb back up and into the barn! It wasn't long after that, her daughter, Liberty was born.

Her last gestation proved to be the most troublesome, however. Very early into the pregnancy, she injured herself going into her stall. It was serious. A quarter so damaged we couldn't milk it without causing her pain. The prevailing opinion was she should be slaughtered ASAP. Far be it from me to listen to logic, I decided to give her meds that would kill the quarter. Maybe she could stay as a three-quartered cow. At least, maybe I'd have the chance to get one more calf. My decision was a questionable one...

The meds made Lilly sick. She stopped milking and was put to pasture ("dried off") until her due date. As the months went by, it was plain to see, even from a football field away or greater, that her udder was in terrible shape and there would be no keeping her after the birth of her calf. She would only continue to hurt herself navigating the stalls and pasture. We all wondered what the chances were of that calf she carried being a heifer...

As her due date drew near, we mulled over the best ways to care for her. Wednesdays are auction days. We hoped this ornery cow might calve on a Tuesday so we could save her as much discomfort as possible and get her to the auction the next day. Nobody actually thought Lilly would comply, she had a knack for doing things her own way...

... But that's exactly how it went. Lilly gave birth to a heifer calf on a Tuesday morning. She went to market the next day. It broke my heart to let her go. But we went back to this little heifer calf, born sluggish and with very slack muscle tone. Prevailing logic concludes the injury and meds we used to deal with it took their toll on this little girl. I worried she may not pull through, and she may not ever be a vigorous, healthy calf...

But as the days went on, Lilyanne perked up. She ate, she stood, she walked, she ran, she bounced!

Knowing the fate of three of her sisters, I held my breath through those early months. The other three hadn't survived long enough to be weaned off milk before some random illness swept them away. Lilyanne did and continues to thrive!

So there you have it. My miracle story that began almost a year ago! Had I not had hope, had I not taken a chance my family thought I was crazy to take, I would not have this now vibrant calf bouncing around, bullying her peers, and becoming the touchstone her mother once was for me.

Hope, determination and perseverance can currently be summed up for me in one word: Lilyanne.