Friday, February 25, 2011

February 25th, 2011

So many things I could write about tonight.

Many remembrances of Philip, who died last year, on this date. Silly memories, funny memories, passionately romantic ones, painful, working through the hard parts of life memories. We lived our life together to the fullest, traveling to far away places, restoring homes in nearer places, taking care of aging parents (his), having babies. Coming to the farm and starting our little farm church seemed so logical.

I could write about the amazing support network we have. Once again, I wrote a nice little essay the other day. It's about how grateful I am to our community, but I can't figure out how to cut and paste it over here to the blog and don't want to write it out again. Gotta get these smart kids to teach me. But if you have been reading this blog for any time at all, you have a clue. The relationships we have with our friends in this valley are powerful. Good. The tragedy we have experienced has helped us to be very aware of the amazing power of community.

But I suppose I will write that even as my body felt a heaviness today, I found some little reserve which enabled me to go out and milk. Perhaps it was related to addiction. I haven't been milking, and that means no heavy cream and that means no coffee for me. I have been drinking tea the past few days, and I like tea, but it doesn't compare to coffee with Coco's cream.

So, as I milked, I marveled at the warm temperatures, the opening leaves on the willow tree and the crazy looking sky. Bright blue, swirling clouds, dark gray moving back and forth. The breeze was playful.

An hour later, the wind was like a youngster, gone completely wild. Plowing over the pond, slamming into the house, tearing through the trees on the ridge in a fury. I wondered if, perhaps, the wind was anything like this when it came along to dry things up for Noah and his ark.

At first I thought the wind was a messenger of doom and gloom.

Then I thought about the possibility of the wind being a bringer of new things. The power of the wind to sweep rain storms into our valley, and then out again. The power of the wind to funnel warmer temperatures into our region.

Today I don't hate the wind. I find her comforting, in a frightening sort of way. She nearly blew us off the hillside as we gathered in the cemetery this afternoon. But she didn't.

And one more think I must mention, how it relates, I have no idea: We are getting plenty of eggs these days. Our eggs taste so much better than the supermarket eggs. Even though we have little grass, the chickens must be finding plenty because the yolks are deep orange. The children are happy to eat eggs again, now that we have our delicious ones available for breakfast.


Jayme said...

I'm proud of you and the kids. I know Philip is too! Love you all!

Brent said...

Hi, I came across your blog in a roundabout way but I just wanted to know I appreciate your writing. I am the son of a mom who is going through the same thing, and I thought the pain of losing dad was the worst thing in life but I see witnessing my mother's grief that for her it must be incomparable.

I can't imagine what you and many others are going through, but maybe if your kids can't yet express it themselves (I think they're youngins, not sure?) I will tell you that we are thankful for strong mothers like yourself. Like a younger cousin of mine said on dad's passing, "I think God just needed a strong man in Heaven". And we need strong women like you at home :)

God bless and I hope with each passing day memories grow fonder. The pain reflects how strong the love for your husband was and is still. I'll be praying for you.