I know nothing of farming.

My life on the land had previously consisted of childhood trips to Round Hill Farm and an adult life spent at the “Barn” watching my eldest daughter ride her horse named Glinda (yes the Good Witch).

I am soft.

While long runs had previously left me feeling scrappy, I realize I and manual labor are just now becoming acquainted.

The callouses on my palms show the world that I most likely was not raised on it.

But, it is the missing piece.

No job and a pandemic sitting on my doorstep yet hauling dirt, moving stones and dreaming of life with sheep has brought more peace then a Sunday service.

I choose to live in this moment.

Where snakes slither beneath the foundation,

and one rock dug up reveals another.

In this place I just might find my purpose.

It’s the sound of the rooster and the sight of the bluebirds.

It’s the smell of the soil and the taste of sweet plums.

It’s breathing clearer and working harder.

It is knowing the best thing a man will ever own is a piece of land.

The pieces begin to fall into place.

A house in contract, a closing date set.

We found ourselves on the hunt for something to mow our fields

And, as it sometimes happens, the right person found us.

A man named O’Neil had a 1950 Ford 8n tractor to sell.

The farm taking shape as we stood one Saturday admiring the machine being entrusted to our care.

With the tractor came O’Neil’s stories;

an upbringing in Kentucky, a wife met at the roller ring and the 62 years celebrated together.

Decades spent working hard, loving the land and living a life of service to God and country.

“Live in Joy“, O’Neil counseled, “not happiness, Joy“.

His words now woven with ours.

His tractor, his story, now a piece of this life we are building at the farm.

It began in this way.

The iPhone notes an accurate depiction of life in my new world.

The coffee runs. The routine needs.

The mundane moments of this day.

The growing happens hidden in these highlights.

No longer running to meet deadlines, now rushing to meet needs.

So I change.

Adapting to these new days.

Wondering constantly if this present is meant to be the future or if I am marking time waiting for the next new day to unfold.

Giving up on the guessing.

I am here.

Just looking to answer the call- “What would you have me do today?”

The answer open ended-

be here now.

The job gone.

Position altered, choices made.

The whole of a adult life wrapped up in the climb. Each job over the next defining self worth.

And, in the midst of the fog, catastrophe strikes, one only Hollywood could dream up.

So we sit.

While the world waits, I wait with it.

Giving up on asking questions, knowing the answers will be reached in his time, not mine.

Living in the limits of twenty-four hours. What would he have me do today?

Be here.

Sit with them.

Steer the ship through this storm.

Navigate what is new to all of us.