No Charisma

Very soon now my beloved family milk cow Moo will give birth to her 5^th calf. And Kirkhaven will have milk again. Fresh, rich, milk. Delicious. Organic. Healthy.

And we will have homemade butter.

And any flavor of ice-cream we can dream up.

And tangy sour cream.

And yummy cheese spreads full of fresh herbs from our late-summer garden.

I love everything about milking my sweet Moo. I love getting up early to meet her at the stall gate. I love humming and chatting as I wash her udder and tie her in the milking station.  I love the satisfied look on her face when I pour grain into the bucket at her head. And I love folding myself low-to-the-ground to reach beneath her short-statured udder.

There is no fanfare about it. When the rest of the world is still in bed . . . or getting their morning coffee . . . or preparing notes for their next meeting . . . or trying to get children dressed for school  . . .  I am sitting on my tree-stump milking stool. The television is broadcasting the latest news about the election, but I don’t hear it. There are wars in foreign countries, but I am not experiencing them. People are blogging and tweeting about themselves, or their accomplishments, or their opinions, or their passions, or their crusades, or their disdain for other people’s opinions and passions and crusades . . . but I am not reading any of it. There is only Moo, me, the sound of munching, the feel of her ample belly against my cheek, and the uncomplicated rhythm of squeeze-and-squeeze-and-squeeze-and-squeeze.

Cows have no charisma. I think that is what I love the most about Moo. There is warmth and acceptance in her eyes. There is a quiet regality in her posture. There is a practical intelligence in her demeanor. There is even a charming agreeableness in the way she willingly cooperates with her farmers. But there is absolutely no charisma.

None.

In a world that deifies advertisement and self promotion, charisma is everything. You need to be gorgeous. You need to carry yourself with pride and confidence. You need to be quick witted and sharp tongued. You need to be talented and specially gifted. You need to be passionate. You need followers. And you need to be able to cut your opposition off at the knees with one quick flick of the tongue.

But Moo needs none of these things.

And when I am milking Moo, I need none of these things too.

My husband and I did not begin our farming journey to learn the secret of a charisma-less life. But sometimes the journey you begin to take will follow a path you never knew was there.

So I wait . . . with great anticipation . . . for Moo to have her new calf. My heart longs for the simple joy of hand milking Moo. There is a deep thirst in my soul for a rich, meaningful life that transcends the shallow popularity of charismatic living. I am ready for the lessons.

I want to find the treasures that are hidden ...

instead of manufacturing crass trinkets for popular display. 

I want to relish the effort of working hard ...

instead of expecting easy benefits from effortlessness.

I want to understand the real importance of faithfully stewarding the tasks set before me ...
instead of wishing to be someone else doing something else somewhere else.

I want to walk through my day with a nurtured sense of gratitude ...

instead of feeding a desire to always want more.

Dear Lord, you were a carpenter by trade. A scholar by heritage. A servant by choice. Teach me the lessons that will forge my heart into a sanctuary for the kind of Truth that is real . . . and the kind of living that is really Good.

Free from the burden of charisma.

I am waiting.

And I am ready.

And Moo will help.

Unembellished Miracles

We now have three calves at Kirkhaven Farm!  Violet and Yetta have given us two beautiful black heifers and Adelle just gave birth to an adorable bull calf.  Maggie should calve within a week or two.  Moola is due in August.  As I stand on my beloved brae and watch the babies yippie-skippie across our East Tennessee hill top, I am stunned by how fulfilling and rich my quiet life is.  

Our whole farming adventure is so plain.  Hands-on and earthy.  So very simple.  We feed the cows and chickens.  Muck the stalls.  Water and weed the garden.  Add fresh well-water to the bass pond if it hasn’t rained in a few days.   Check the apple orchard and grape vines for invading beetles or caterpillars.   Nothing truly noteworthy happens during our daily routine . . . except that all of it is so quietly miraculous.

Bird nests . . . with their tiny eggs . . . so perfectly tucked into odd nooks and crannies in the barn.

Sunshine streaming through open stall doors as daylight dawns over the eastern ridges each morning.

Sleepy calves nursing one last time before they snuggle beside their mothers on soft grass each evening.

There’s really nothing witty or sharp to Tweet about.

Nothing spectacular to display on a Pinterest board.

No great revelation to unveil in a book or preach from a pulpit.

Just simple, unembellished miracles.

The kind that leave your hands tired and your heart completely at rest.

Only a Miracle
When calves are born at Kirkhaven,
There isn’t much to see . . .
Just tiny, shiny, sleepy heads
With wibbly-wobby knees.

There’s no loud celebration,
No cheering revelry . . .
Just mama softly lowing
A lullaby for three.

One day it will be different . . .
On hillsides green and free . . .
With romping ‘cross the grassy brae . . .
And mooing ‘neath the trees . . .
And venturing in pasturelands . . .
And grazing peacefully . . .

But now there’s nothing newsworthy
To blog or tweet or see . . .
There’s just this newborn miracle,
With cow and God and me.

Yetta and her newborn calf . . . sweet little Patience . . .

From the Ground . . . Up

“So what kind of cows are THESE??”

I lost count how many times I answered that question.  Our stalls were at the far end of the cattle barn at the Florida State Fair.  Visitors walked down several stall-lined aisles before they got to our section.  They saw many different colors, shapes, sizes, and kinds of bovine before finally arriving at the Dexter Cattle section.  And most of them really didn’t know what to make of our “little cows.”

“Awwww . . . they’re sooo cute!”

“Wow, are these full grown?"

“Why do you raise these little cows?”

“OMG I want one!”

Listening to their comments and answering their slightly predictable questions was so fun: 

Of course Dexters are cute!

Yes, the sweet cows standing there with their adorable calves ARE full grown. 

We raise these wonderful bovine to produce nutritious milk, healthy & delicious beef, and life-enriching companionship. 

And you CAN have one . . . if you are ready for the adventure!

I really never IMAGINED I would EVER own cattle, much less SHOW them at fairs!  We don’t have a livestock trailer.  We don’t even own a truck!  But through the generosity of precious family and friends, we were able to patch together a transportation scheme that got us to Tampa safe, sound, and on time.

Thank you Sally & Warren, for transporting all of our Dexters to Florida ... and for helping us succeed in showing our beloved cows.

Thank you Dave & Rach, for letting us use your trailer to carry all Kirkhaven & Freedom Farm equipment . . . which left the Freedom Farm trailer free to haul all of the Dexters.

Thank you Missy & Al Dunse for hosting Sally, Warren, Haden, me . . . and all ten of our Dexters . . . for a relaxing, refreshing night at your beautiful Florida farm on our way to Tampa.

So what should I tell you about our Florida State Fair adventure?  I could describe the difficulties and eventual victories we experienced in procuring transportation for us, our gear, and our cattle.  I could explain all the time and preparation we invested in seeing that our Dexters were presented in their BEST possible condition.  I could tell you about the ribbons we won.  I could tell you how enchanted people were with Mo’s soft red coat and unbelievably adorable face.  I could describe how Reuben actually basked in all the attention and seemed to “ask” passers-by to rub his head and scratch his neck.  I could tell you how rich and nourishing the fellowship of our friends was.  But as I think about our Florida adventure, I find myself simply quieted.

Somehow Father knew we would thrive in this simple farming lifestyle.

He knew our faith would grow and our hope would bloom as we watched His generous Hand provide for our every need.

He knew that new friendships and brand new experiences would weave beautiful patterns into the tapestries of our lives.

And He knew . . . even when we could have never guessed it . . . that healing and strength and prosperity of heart and soul would pour into our lives from the ground up . . . as we collected eggs and planted gardens and cared for our sweet Dexters and stewarded the land He so generously placed into our hands.

From the ground up.

Blessings from above, flowing . . . from the ground . . . up.

As I walked Rainbow, my first entry, into the show ring at the Florida State Fair, I felt so very blessed. Blessed from the bottom of my cowboy-booted feet to the top of my slightly disheveled head.  Blessed from the ground up.  Blessed by all that the Lord had grown and was still growing . . . on my farm, and in my farmer’s heart.

Here is Reuben sporting his new show-cut.  Isn't he absolutely handsome??