The Farm
Yesterday we talked about letting the farm go and the inevitability of change in our lives. I read the lovely comments and encouraging words you left me on my post and it gave me much to think about throughout the day. When life hands me lemons, I start looking for all the different ways to use them. There are so many ways to make a lemon sweet and more palatable.
When I took over the farm in 2016, I also took over the utilities. When I no longer have that to deal with, I’ll have at least an extra couple hundred dollars in my bank account. That’s a good amount of camping I could be doing. Also, we won’t be responsible for the mowing and that will give us a lot more time and less pressing need to always be here.
You know, normally I never would have had the opportunity to spend more than a week or two at the farm when I came home for vacations every year. After Mr. Virgo passed and I came back to West Virginia to help my elderly aunt, I had a taste of life in the country. It only lasted ten weeks that go round, but it was enough to let me know it was the life for me.
When I returned to West Virginia in the summer of 2016, I was presented with an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. My uncle was taking my aunt to go live with him and he needed someone to live at the farm and take care of it. He asked if I could come off the road and stay there for him. I didn’t have to think twice.
Having all this time to live in my grandparents’ house was such a gift from God. I did a lot of healing there. Not only from the wounds of losing my husband, but of losing so much of myself over the years. It brought me back to my simpler roots. I remember, as a doctor’s wife…talking to one of my lifelong friends. Apparently I needed to be brought down a peg or two because she reminded me, in no uncertain terms, that she and I had the same roots in the red clay of Appalachia and it would do me well to remember that.
I’ve never forgotten that conversation. Living a simple farm life after downsizing humbled me in a way nothing else has. As I read stories on Facebook yesterday, I was reminded of the most basic point. I am letting go of a house. I have friends letting go of their children, of their marriages, of their livelihoods. I have friends who are in life and death struggles with health concerns. I am letting go of a HOUSE. I’m not planning a funeral, yet I will grieve. I am not burying a loved one, yet I am bereaved.
It isn’t lost on me the way God is helping me through this. Daughter #1 and her girls will be here the week before we have to vacate the farm. We are planning a gathering of family to say goodbye to the old girl…and to the long line of loved ones who called her home and are no longer with us. Little is staying with us while my daughter takes Big to go see colleges. You see? I get to not only share the farm with Little, but I get to share my heart and the stories of her ancestors and instill a love and appreciation for what came before her. She and I have never been together….here. It’s extraordinary how well orchestrated this is. God is so good!
It is a natural process in life to grieve the things we lose that bring us such love. And, just as I have learned to keep Mr. Virgo’s memory alive within me, the same will be true of the farm. I will remember the sights, sounds, smells, and every little feeling that creaky old house gives me till the day I part this earthly plane. When I hear rain on the roof of a camper, I’ll be transported back in time to a little red house in the woods. When I lay my head on a pillow where I can hear the rushing sounds of water in a creek, I will close my eyes and remember.
When I hug those I love, I give away bits of the love my family poured into me. That love comes from an endless source…a fount of remembrances of love and joy and faith. I carry the farm within me. I AM THE FARM and THE FARM IS ME.
We are one and we are love…simply because, we were loved. By the family and by the land upon which we stood. For we are but sojourners here.
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““The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine. For you are strangers and sojourners with me.”
Leviticus 25:23 ESV