My days go by so fast they are a blur. |
I don't like to ask for help and I don't like people to offer. I like the satisfaction of painting a room and finishing it and basking in the hard work of it all. I like that. It isn't always possible and I end up with help most of the time anyway.
On one hand I have a great support group, those who have encouraged us and me to take on this lifestyle cold turkey and jump in feet first. It's been hard work, a steep learning curve, and a lot of heartbreak. Then out of the blue someone will say something like, "I was afraid you'd learn that lesson...." and do so in a way that very clearly communicates their patronizing pity. The kind of attitude that pulls the rug out of under your feet, just when you are wobbly standing anyway. The kind that says, "I was expecting you to fail and you did, ha."
The reason is that I hear that all the time...still. From the fellow pig farmer at the vet (my peer, that's right, I am a pig farmer too.), from other farm wives in town, from family members. I don't seem to have the strength or know how to them.
I do. I surprise myself everyday. I am strong enough. I might in fact, know more than the average farmhand that's been doing this for more years. I can hold a dying 200 lb animal in my very capable arms and bottle feed him water when we have no idea what's killing him. I can rock my daughter to sleep when she has nightmares about giant bugs eating her or roosters attacking the house. I can round up loose pigs with a smile and a whistle while grown men are swearing and stomping their tempers up (not that anyone here does that....). I can manage an emergency with a level head. I can put out fires. I can start fires. I CAN and I do, near daily, what needs to be done.
I cook on this. It isn't easy. |
And I have plenty of those.
And that is the kind of friend I want to be.
Just last week I dared say that farm life is hard. Out loud. In public. You know what? It is.
It is not all romance and daisies. Sometimes it stinks. Sometimes I get stuck in the mud and wish I had my cozy urban garden back or that I was just homesteading for our family needs instead of raising food for 60 other families too. (How cool is it that we have 60 families that buy meat from us! Very.) There are days that I want my husband to come in and read to the kids or play with them or help them with anything at all so I can make dinner or tidy up- but he's still outside moving feed, or hauling water, or chopping wood. We can't go into Des Moines together for dinner as a family because then we'd either be out too late or we'd miss locking up the sheep and coyotes would hurt and or kill them. That limits what we can do at the holidays when family cannot come to us.
There are days when the only thing that grounds me is heading outside alone at night just to stand under the open star filled sky and pray my gratitude to the heavens....in silence. In stillness. Under a universe so big that my problems and worries and aches are so small that statistically they don't even exist.
And those days are the days that I especially don't need deflating, pretentious, condescending comments about how if God wanted me to be successful on the farm he would bless me with an easy time. I don't need comments that farming is a natural extension of home keeping (because that's a load of naive crap). And I don't need anyone saying they, "know so and so who does twice as much and sleeps soundly at night happy to work hard, you should too and would if you had a grateful heart."
What I need is a nice cup of tea and a hot bath to wash the "mud" out of my hair and friends who do not emotionally sabotage me. All of which I have, thank you very much.
What does any of this have to do with being a super hero? Super heroes all have their weakness, their secret thing that can hurt them. I do too. I put my heart out there. I sometimes say what is on my mind without considering if it is kind first. I have only a few friends that take me for who I am, but know a whole lot of people who I have to walk barefoot on eggshells with.
I'm not saying this to get pity. What I am saying is that I aspire to be the mentor that others have been to me. I am saying that if you find yourself making passive aggressive subtle comments on a fb thread or in conversation, stop a minute and think about the hurt you might be causing someone. Do you really want to be the person who cause that kind of hurt? I don't. I caught myself typing a very clever response with some very subtle mean things very much directed at someone and stopped myself. I shut my computer and walked away. That's not me. That's not who I am. What you think shapes your actions, it is too easy to type it all out and feel clever only to to do the kind of harm that haunts you later.
So I thought I might list out the things I want to aspire to be, as a friend:
I want honesty, so I am honest.
I want kindness, so I will look for the kind way to do things or say things.
If I am doing something harmful to myself, I want my friends to tell me what they think.
I want friends who can accept me for who I am even when I am having a bad day.
I don't want to drop someone, just because they are struggling.
When things get broken or lost, I will not get angry and throw blame. I will pick up the pieces and be the one who scoops up the lost and weary.
I will encourage the gifts of others. I will smile at their success.
I will listen.
I will not try and solve problems. I will listen. I will help when needed.
I will not be passive aggressive.
I will shine. I will farm. I will love with all my broken heart. I will write. I will play. I will love.
I will fail. I will forgive myself and move on.
I will remember this every time I stand under that great big star filled sky, the heaven that has not changed in my lifetime, and I will be thankful for every sore muscle, every pain, every smile, kind word, blessing, and heart ache. For every milestone that we have earned and for those that just plopped in the road for us to get around.
I will not be afraid of what I see in the mirror. I will take pictures of myself, with my kids, of my kids, I will document our human experience.
That is my self portrait.