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.

Great-Uncle Hank

World, I'd like you to meet my great-uncle.
You may already know him. He's a pretty incredible guy!

We're rather meeting him together. I'm getting to know him like I never did, and he is a wealth of inspiration!

Uncle Hank is my late grandmother's brother. My grandma that was the center of my world, and a sizable chunk of my heart to this day. As a child, I remember him visiting at grandma and grandpa's with his family, maybe once a year or so. He was REALLY tall, and largely a stranger to me. I feel like I spent the majority of their time there, being somewhere else.

Great-Uncle Hank carrying my dad.

Our home is the site of his childhood. The family moved here when he was two. Since we moved in, Uncle Hank has made a near-annual visit, usually in October. Even in its sorry current condition, he enjoys seeing the barn. In the early part of this decade, it seemed his way of closing his time in New York, before traveling back to Texas for the winter with his wife.

When he walks through it, he points out the scenes from his most vivid memories. The giant, old maple tree beside the barn is where his grandpa used to park his Model T when he came to help put in hay. There's a certain spot at the edge of the hay mow that he distinctly recalls as the precise point upon which he fell out of the mow and broke his arm.

It was this fall I'd learned that Uncle Hank no longer winters in Texas. He's made his home in New York, and still enjoys coming to see the barn. This year, at 90-years-old, the condition of this place that he once worked and played seemed more important than it had in the past. Uncle Hank noted some places my husband has attempted to patch, and it gave him tremendous hope that we would yet save the barn.

It seemed only right to be honest. As much as we would love to save the barn, it's a matter of finances. As a young(ish) family, living in an obscenely overtaxed area, in a state with an equally obscene cost of living, I didn't know that we would ever have the funds to save the barn before it fell in.

Those were horrible words to hear coming out of my own mouth to this sweet man. Thankfully, they didn't dull his hope, or the twinkle in his eyes (so much like I remember my grandmas!). There's something about Uncle Hank and his wish that energized this buried dream up and out of the depths of my heart.

Something that felt like it might happen eons from now, suddenly gained top priority, and a significantly more urgent deadline.

With a new year just around the corner, I'm opening myself to faith, and creating one (of a few yet to be pursued, this is just the fastest) avenue to make a milestone in the big dream possible: making the first repairs to our 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.

No matter what, thanks so much for reading along so far.

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.

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?

This Old Barn

The funny thing is, it isn't as if this old barn is something I just became aware of. If you haven't been here, you may not be aware that I live on the homestead that my grandma was raised on. You may not  know that as a child, I assumed this would be my place: the giant old house that once stood here and that I used to sneak into when vacant to play and daydream, would be where I lived.

Sadly, the house was deemed in ill-repair and used as a controlled burned for our local fire department the day (seriously, like as I was leaving) I left to attend college in Wilmington, Ohio. The flames of my dream ignited my rearview mirror, as tears washed my face, but failed to clear the vision from my mind even after six hours of trying. At the time, I thought that was the final indication that I wasn't meant to live in New York.

Imagine the moment when, 13 years later, my husband asked if I would like to move home. In the first place, the man is a diehard Buckeye! I couldn't imagine he would ever want to live in New York again (he had for a year or two - it wasn't magical). I weighed carefully... yeah, no. Not really. I didn't weigh ALL of my options. Not the ones I should have. I thought about our parents and who at the time seemed better able to travel to see us. I did warn that the taxes would be insane, the cost of living higher... Yet we packed up a giant U-Haul, our little girl and baby boy, and headed east.

My younger self had never told my husband about the plot that would eventually become our home. He had a few other locations in mind - but there was none of that! Older self really wishes I had taken a little bit of time to explain why I bought five acres in exactly NONE of the places he hoped for.

But that was MY house that went up in flames all of those years ago. In my heart it was, at least. And if I couldn't have grandma's house, then at least I could have the ground she'd played on.

And of course, the barn is still here. In that barn lies my mission - maybe OUR mission. Because ultimately, this old barn may be about more than me and my husband. It IS about more than me and my husband. It's about more than our now-young woman and her dreams. It may even be about more than a beloved senior gentleman, his memories and HIS dream!

All will be revealed. For now, it's enough to know that it's time to save this old barn. We'll need all the help we can get to accomplish it. Perhaps, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. We'll see. In the meantime, we're reaching out for advice and assistance. Please do share this post if you know of anyone with any experience or interest in barn restoration! If anyone local knows anything about the history of this barn previous to 1930, we'd love to have that information too.

A Broken Jewel

Despite my high hopes, positive attitude, and the care and patience of everyone on the farm, Opal will not recover. The vet is coming to put her down today. Opal hasn’t stood up in more than two weeks. I have spent the last week watching her appetite, her weight, and her spirit, dwindle. I have seen that the look in her eyes has changed from confusion and determination, to acceptance and the distance that comes when a living being is ready to leave the world.

It was my decision. Essentially, I’ve signed her death warrant. There is no easy decision here for me. I don’t like to give up on things. Even when all the potential is gone, I still search for one tiny little spark, some indicator that there is still hope. But to wait for every last spark to fade from this girl would be cruel. I have made the right decision. Her life will end before another week goes by, before she wastes away to nothing. My decision will give her peace.

I told her twin sister, Onyx, a couple of days ago. I apologized for lying to her. I had assured her Opal would be back. At the time, I believed that! I’m sure some will read this and think I am nuts. They’re just cows, Onyx doesn’t understand or care. But cows are also herd animals. They are meant to live in groups. With the exception of the few months where one was dry and the other milking, Onyx and Opal have always been together. And Onyx knows the stall beside her is still empty.

During the morning shift that I worked when Opal was first injured, she had walked to the back end of the pasture during their outside time. It took me a while to get her back in; it was a long, slow walk back. Onyx, who I’ve been told is usually among the first to go back in the barn, waited for her sister to catch up to her before she went in that day. Onyx won’t dwell on this the way a human dwells on such a loss, but I feel she does understand, and feel the emptiness.

Though this is a sad day for me, there is happiness to be found. A young heifer of mine has been moved into the “pre-fresh” area of the barn. Pre-fresh is an free-stall area (cows are not tied, but can roam about within the confines of the space) of the farm where the cows that are within a month or so of calving are housed. In warm weather, once a cow is dried off, she is put out to pasture for a while, and then brought back in to pre-fresh. In the winter, they stay in the pre-fresh area the entire time they are dry.

Lolypop, Lilly’s two-year-old daughter, has been moved into pre-fresh. My son named her when HE was two years old! We try to keep all the cow’s names to seven letters or less, so we had to misspell it to make it fit.

Lolypop is also Opal’s niece, so though Opal has no daughters of her own to carry on her genes, she does have Lolypop and a couple other, younger nieces who will continue to move forward. Though I doubt it, I have to wonder if Lolypop will be the one to stand by Onyx and fill that empty stall. I would love that! However, they tend to be placed in their stalls for more functional reasons (such as their comfort level in a particular location and how they match up in size and appearance to their stall mates) than heredity or emotional ones.

It is hard to ignore the circle of life when working on or around a farm. You say goodbye to one, and another comes up and gives you something new to celebrate! It can be a very life-affirming thing. Life always goes on. Even when you don’t feel like stepping forward, life steps forward and carries you with it. Into the next chapter.