I walk through the now-emtpy barn, stepping over discarded feed buckets. My hands run across the knots in the wood beams and my thoughts wander. Last year this time, like many years before it, we ran through the doors chased by biting spring winds to check on goat kids. We toted bottles of warm milk back out into the night to be strained and cooled for breakfast.
The goats are tucked into stalls in another barn half an hour to the north tonight, another homesteading family tending them and loving their babies. It is all good. They are well and we are nearly ready to leave here. This is our last spring on the ranch.
In many ways it is a relief. We worked very hard here. We invested a great deal. We sucked every drop of joy out of this place we possibly could. Still we knew we were not prepared for this to be the last adventure we were going to have. So we are ready to go, but tonight I linger a while in the silence and brush away a stray tear.
I understand now that this farm was as much about my past as my present and why it was so important to me to hang on to it tightly. All the happy and stable and good in my early life happened on a farm not so different from this one. I spent my adult years just holding on 'til I could recreate that place which was heaven itself to me for so many years.
As a child I would escape to the lower level of my grandparents barn and breathe deeply of its earthy peace, anchoring myself within the whitewashed foundation. I watched as steam wafted up and away from the horses' nostrils on those bitter cold nights. The only sound to be heard, the gentle crunching of hay and the occasional, sleepy shift of their weight. In time my own breathing slowed, matching theirs, and all was well again.
The night we arrived here I walked into the old barn, which has stood on this bare prairie since the 40's, long before the house. I inhaled the lingering scent of musty hay and the sticky sweet feed bags left behind and my whole being sang out with joy. I was home.
There would be many nights like this over the years, but in time I have come learn a secret. That quiet was always there for me inside. It could be mine in a Midwest farm, on a glitzy downtown street, or while riding in a plane across the ocean. (there's a hint ; )) While I still believe in the power of place, I have become even more convinced of the power of a God who commands us to be still, wherever we find ourselves and to experience the wonder that is our present moment. He is teaching me to do that and it is beautiful.
This is my Grandma's legacy. She did not leave me dependent upon a place, holding desperately to a memory, but rather she left me with the ability to embrace the future and all its glorious uncertainty. She left me a 'Yes I can' outlook. Wherever we go from here I will take this slow breath with me. There are many places to love after all if we can slow down and notice. But I suspect that on quiet nights like this my thoughts will return to potted violets on a farmhouse windowsill and a wheelbarrow rolling down the barn aisle. I will remember a cat sunning itself where the sun falls on the dirt floor and I will smile.
Thank you Gram. And thank you Allen, for giving me the time I needed here to be whole again. I am ready now. I just had to find out why I came here to realize it was ok to go.
Starry Sky Journal 
Ooooh, you’re killing me! I can’t wait to read your next post. :o)
Think of taking pieces of barn siding with you. You could have something made from it if you wanted. It helps me to have things from the past. I lay my hand on them and remember. I don’t need all of what I had but a bit of it. To soak up and feel encouraged when life hits a rough spot. My best to you as you move.
I just want to say quickly that I am not trying to be coy. We are under a huge, nearly impossible, time crunch right now and every minute is spoken for and then some.
As well, it just is taking a lot out of me to try to put into words all that has transpired inside and out.
I thank you for your patience and your letters and I look forward to answering them, as I can – though bear with me because it may take me a while. God bless you!
I am not sure why, but I am in tears reading your post. I think it is because I can feel your courage. I sense the uncertainty and excitement of the future. I recognize the appreciation of each moment of today. It is palpable.
God bless! (He sure does, doesn’t He?)
Thank you for sharing yourself, Kim.
Praying for all of you on your new adventure.
Amen !
Kim this is so lovingly beautiful !
Kim I can connect with you in so many ways 😉 I too thru my gramma and family long to live and am most at home in the bush , in the forest the boreal forest. I know the trees, plants , walk , smells etc.
Yet I too know He asks me not to be attached to one place but Him . There are other places where I thrive though like the forests in MX as well and some I do not some I feel drained and though He is with me I know I cannot be the best me in some of these places so I leave just as He asks me not to paratke in harmful relationships I believe He asks us to leave places too .
You are also so right what matters is where Your heart is , and where Your heart is is exactly in the right spot , with Him 😉
I love how you are writing this, how you are sharing it with us. Blogging is so very public and private at the same time: akin to a newspaper column, and a paper journal, both together.
God blesses us no matter where we walk or lay our heads. I am looking forward to continuing to follow you on your journey.
peace,
~ Ellie
You sound at peace, so very pleased{{}} Praying for you{{}}
Beautifully said Kim. God bless you and your family on your new adventure. 🙂
I can sooooo relate to this. To this day just the briefest scent of horse feed, well-oiled leather, or freshly turned soil can nearly bring me to my knees.
But you know, life is so good in so many other ways I would never have known if I had not had the courage to let go of one dream in order to follow new ones.
God bless you and your new dream.
Lovely photos to go with lovely memories!
Which ocean are you going to cross?!!! I’m waiting to hear the rest over here on the other side of the Pacific. :o)
Hi Kim,
I read your blog faithfully but never comment. I just want to tell you that I can relate to you right now. We are having to leave our little family farm. I thought we would be here forever. We are being relocated with my husbands job. I am also finding homes for all of our animals, and starting to pack up. Every time I walk out to feed the animals my eyes fill up with tears, bittersweet tears. My family is also being called in a different direction. Big changes.
Anyway, thank you for sharing so beautifully. I will remember your family in my prayers
God Bless!
Kirsten
Kirsten
What a beautiful post, Kim! I’m so glad you were able to recover the joy and peace you once felt on your grandmother’s farm. I can relate to that sense of “coming home” to a sense of security. It mirrors my own experience of Colorado. Whatever your future holds, I am sure it will be fun and exciting, and you will carry your brave, optimistic, pioneering spirit with you. I’m very curious (nosy?:-)), but will leave it to you to tell us in your own time (I’m guessing Australia:-).)
Take care and all the best!
Dammit. Quit making me cry, you! Glad I got online today and read this. xoxo
Its been a long hard road hasn’t it Rebecca. I am going to give you a public shout out here because you know I couldn’t have done this without you and Allen. No way. Thank you friend.
{{{{Kim}}}}
I am praying hard for you. Please know that I am thinking of you often and when I do, I always send a prayer up for you. I will offer up any pregnancy ick I have for your intentions too…THAT should shower grace down…lol…hormones, after all, are very powerful things…haha!
{{{{HUGS}}}} to you and yours!!
This is amazing, it fills my heart with gratitude tonight for my little farm. Peace to you and yours sweet lady:)
Oh Kim, this post is so beautiful. I was so into the words that I had to go back and look at the photos later. I wish you peace on your journey. And I look forward to reading more.