Category: Grace

Community, Down On the Farm, Family, Farmers Markets, Friendship, Grace, Gratitude, Opal's Farm, Relationships, Spirituality, Thoughts From the Porch, Unity Unlimited, Inc., Urban Farming

Maybe the End is in Sight?

gregoryjoel

It’s another graceful morning out on the porch – a reminder of God’s creation and the grace by which I get to live and enjoy another day. I must admit though I traded the glorious morning for air conditioning and my desk after about thirty minutes and one cup of coffee. It is August in North Texas, and I’ve been blessed with a day of rest from the long, hot days at the farm. The triple-digit temperatures just go on and on with no relief in sight until at least until the middle of September. This year has the dubious distinction of having hottest average temperature from January through today on record, but hey, climate change is a hoax, right? I’ pretty sure that those who deny the changing climate have jobs in the air conditioning…

I even got to sleep until 7:30 this morning. Margaret and I were up beyond our normal bedtime last night. We shared a meal with our son, his wife, her mother, and some friends of their family. They’re part of the Iranian diaspora here in Fort Worth and the conversation wove in and out of English and Farsi all evening. Even though I didn’t understand the language, I fully understood the laughter and love surrounding the dinner table – and what a dinner it was. Plates were overflowing with various Persian foods I’d never tried before and watching everyone enjoy the feast was something I haven’t got to experience in a long time.

Photo by Malak ka on Pexels.com

There’s something special that takes place when people break bread together. New friends instantly become old friends. Language and cultural differences no longer matter. Warm-hearted fellowship eliminates all misunderstanding, and each one is drawn closer to the other. I think that’s why I love farming so much. Food brings everyone together, walls are lowered, and the language of the heart eliminates misunderstanding. In a time of deep division and extremism maybe we should all just sit down at the dinner table together. It can’t hurt right? I wish it were that simple…

Opal’s Farm is closed to the public through the Labor Day holiday, but Opal’s Farm Stand will still be open every Saturday morning from 9 AM-Noon. Our produce selection is a little limited due to the heat, but we still have fresh, locally grown produce available from both Opal’s and Tabor Farms. Come see us at the corner of Rosedale and Evans (one light east of I-35) and check out all our vendors.

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Grateful for Iowa…

gregoryjoel

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning here in Fort Worth. The weather folks are predicting hundred degree-plus temperatures for the next ten days, but the porch was blissfully peaceful and cool in the early morning. Every August I’m determined to retire from the farm, but it’s time for Fall planting so I’m once again dreaming of getting the Fall crop to our neighbors and getting back to work.

Margaret and I spent a week with my stepson Paul and his wife Nicki in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Our vacation got off to a bit of a rough start when I had to spend our first night there in the ER. It turned out okay and we were off the see Northeastern Iowa where my wife had lived and Paul grew up. It’s beautiful country although I was thinking to myself “if you’ve seen one field of corn or soybeans you’ve seen them all”. Then we came to the bluffs overlooking McGregor, Iowa and the Mississippi River. The vista before me was unexpectedly beautiful and made the long drive well worth it. I’m a lousy photographer but I took a lot of pictures to remember our time there.

I’d originally intended to write about our travels while Nicki and Margaret were having their “girl’s day out” the next day. Unfortunately, my laptop crashed while I was in the middle of writing and left me unable to get online. I was extremely displeased with the situation at the time, but as the days went by, I discovered what a blessing it is to be unplugged from my devices for a week. No daily bombardment with depressing news stories and no interruptions and distractions – just enjoying time with my family, listening to great music, and relaxing.

It was a fifteen hundred mile round-trip, and I spent the drive time talking to Margaret and reflecting on the many blessings that have showered down from, as St. James says, “from the Father of Light”. Gratitude has become a staple in my life. I’m under no illusions that I’ve “made it on my own” or that what I’ve been so graciously given that I’ve worked for. It’s all a gift, and an undeserved gift at that. That’s how grace is defined and everything is grace. How can I be anything but grateful?

I’m not oblivious to the fact that we’re living through exceedingly trying times. It’s a constant onslaught of division, attacks on anyone defined as the “other”, and difficult economic times brought on by people who could care less about folks like me and you. I’m not spouting some Pollyannish BS about how it’s all going to be okay, but gratitude reminds me that “it’s all going to be okay”. I’ve already been given so much more than I deserve or could have ever imagined. How can it be otherwise?

It doesn’t mean there isn’t work to do either. I’ve come to realize how many good people there are around me. It’s easy to forget that loud and hateful can be countered with quiet service to our loved ones and our community. We all have a part to play in building the community God intended for us. Part of that work is coming in November. One vote may not feel like it makes difference, but thousands of votes speak louder than one can imagine.

I’ve learned that gratitude isn’t simply a noun or a warm and comfy feeling, but a verb, a word that demands action. The more grateful I am, the more I love and serve others – the more I become a part of the community I live in. I’ve also learned the value of unplugging from the digital world and plugging into daily living and working with the other folks I’m so grateful for. Sometimes it takes a vacation from the day-to-day routine to remember that. Sometimes it takes a vacation to remember how important the work we all do is for each other.

In closing I need to say thank you to some special people who made this last week possible. Amir, thank you for taking care of the irrigation while I was gone. It’s been an unbelievably hot and dry August, and the farm never would have survived without your hard work. Amir has been a vital part of the farm for the last couple of years and I’m so grateful for your friendship and love for the farm. Jay and Vicki, thank you for keeping Opal’s Farm Stand open for business while I was away and for all the work you do to serve the Opal’s Farm community. Thank you to all who’ve chosen to be a part of Opal’s Farm family.

“So, my very dear friends, don’t get thrown off course. Every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven. The gifts are rivers of light cascading down from the Father of Light. There is nothing deceitful in God, nothing two-faced, nothing fickle. He brought us to life using the true Word, showing us off as the crown of all His creatures”. (James 1.16-18 The Message Bible)

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May 29th…

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I haven’t written much this month. May is not one of my favorite months. Although I love springtime at the farm, it tends to be emotionally draining for me and my family (I think I drain them…). You see, my youngest son, Jeremy died on May 29th, 2020. It’s been six years and I still have a hard time with every anniversary. I miss him every day, but the 29th is the most difficult of all.

You would think I’d be better at figuring out why I’m suddenly distracted with day-to-day work, forgetful (more than usual…), and feeling overwhelmed. It’s usually the week before the 29th that the light bulb comes on and I have to go and make amends to those I’ve been short with. Fortunately, I have some wonderful people in my life who understand I’m why I’m not handling everyday interactions very well, showing me much more grace than I feel I deserve.

One thing I’ve learned over the last six years is that grief has no expiration date. Well meaning friends have given me the space to grieve but they don’t always understand why the feelings are so strong after six years. They don’t come right out and say it, but it often feels like they think I should be “over it” by now. Grief has a way of distorting reality. I’m sure no one (well, at least most people) really thinks ill of my grief. I often must remind myself that feelings are not facts.

Last year I started writing a collection of stories about Jeremy and I. I’ve shared the first couple of them with my friends and readers. The others have been slow in coming. Writing time is a prized possession around here. My wife, my home, and the farm fill my cup to overflowing, leaving little room for the reflection honest storytelling requires, especially when it comes to being honest about my own demons and an often turbulent, yet tight, relationship with my son. They’ve been full of ups and downs, joy and despair, but I hope to share more of those stories as the coming year allows.

Just for today, I’ll let the feelings come. I’ve been told that grief becomes easier to bear as time goes by. I’m not sure it gets easier, but I know it gets different. I’m often reminded of all the joy Jeremy brought into the world – my world – but there’s always a deep sense of loss underneath the surface. Maybe that’s a good thing. It’s also a reminder that I get to honor Jeremy and the God who loves me by how I celebrate each day through my family and my work. Moreover, I’m constantly reminded that the loss is only temporary in the grand scheme of things – that one day we’ll all be together again in a world free of the tears that this world so often has.

So folks, if I’m a bit melancholy and irritable today, please allow me my feelings and know it’s a hard day for me. Maybe if we could all remember that everyone has difficulties in life we may not see, we could all be a little more patient and loving towards others. That would sure make living easier for all of us. Please remember too, that sometimes the greatest gift one can give to a grieving person is their simple, silent presence. There are no words of comfort, only the reminder that we are loved.

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Remembering the Stone

gregoryjoel

A blessed Easter morning to all! I’ve been thinking a lot about Easter this past week. It was never a religious holiday in our home when I was growing up. My Church of Christ upbringing prohibited the celebration of “religious” holidays if the specific date wasn’t mentioned in the Bible. I pointed out to them that we knew when Easter was because of the Hebrew calendar and Passover celebration. They simply said the Bible didn’t say anything about “celebrating” Easter. Henceforth, since there was no such thing as a liturgical calendar (way too Catholic- those heathens!), Christmas and Easter should be relegated to Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny with no mention of Jesus. It wasn’t until many years later that my own spiritual journey led me to a much different view of such things.

Easter and the resurrection of Jesus began to take on true spiritual meaning for me some twenty years ago. That’s I found recovery from the alcohol and addiction that had plagued me for many years. I’m not one for “war stories” about the years prior to December 1, 2005, but suffice it to say that failure, degradation, separation from all things spiritual, and loneliness had become my way of life. Not for the sake of having tried to leave those ways behind, mind you. If I had a dollar for every time I quit or tried rehab, I’d be a wealthy, but probably dead man.

In the twelve step programs I’d tried they all talked about hitting bottom and I was there. A friend once asked me where the bottom was. When I replied I didn’t know, he said that it’s wherever I “put down the shovel”. So, I did. I simply quit digging. That’s when I learned what Easter is all about – resurrection.

I certainly don’t have all the answers nor the right to advise others on their spiritual life and a relationship with the God of their understanding, but my experience is that resurrection is real. I was dead, but now I’m alive. I’m alive because God loved me long before I loved myself. Jesus died on the cross and rose from the dead on that first Easter morning to offer new life to me.

Photo by Brett Jordan on Pexels.com

I used to wear a cross necklace as if the cross and the crucifixion were the most important things to remember. I’m not talking smack about cross necklaces, but I think I needed a new perspective on my reality. It wasn’t the cross I needed to focus on (although that was a necessary step in the process), but the stone that was rolled away from the tomb to allow a new, resurrected life to rise for everyone. Unfortunately, a stone is a bit too big to wear around my neck. I should know. I wore several for a long time, just not the same reason…

Today I want to be an Easter person, a resurrection person. I’ve been blessed in more ways than I could ever imagine, and I get a chance each day to be a blessing to others. I can even love others and accept the love and grace of not just my friends, but of a loving Creator. It’s the new life I always dreamed of and could never have on my own. My prayer is that we all focus on the stone and the new life that awaits us all each day.

“We humans mistrust, murder, and attack. Now I see that it is not you that humanity hates. We hate ourselves, but we mistakenly kill you. I must stop crucifying your blessed flesh on this earth and in my brothers and sisters.

Now I see that you live in me and I live in you. You are inviting me out of this endless cycle of illusion and violence. You are Jesus crucified. You are saving me. In your perfect love, you have chosen to enter into union with me, and I am slowly learning to trust that this could be true.” Fr. Richard Rohr

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Bumps in the Road

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Farming has its challenges. The weather is either too wet or too dry, too hot or too cold; equipment breaks down at the most inopportune time; pest pressure; the list goes on. The latest challenge – water level on the Trinity River, which provides water for irrigating our crops, dropping lower than our pumps can reach, leaving us high and dry with new Spring seed in the ground. The Tarrant Regional Water District has construction going on by the Fourth Street dam just upstream from us and had to lower the water level in our section of the river to complete the work. It may be a month before the water level returns to a normal level. The farm can’t go for a month without water, and the weather forecast isn’t looking favorably for us. “Houston, we have a problem…”

The immediate issue was getting water on the new seed as quickly as possible. To make a long story short, it was too muddy to get our other pump close enough to the water to get to suction hose in, so I filled four fifty-gallon water barrels at home each morning, drove to the farm, and hand watered the new seed, all the while praying to seek a better solution. The process was long, slow, and really hard work for this old man.

I trust that God hears my prayers and always answers even though I don’t always listen very well (and if I’m honest, I’ll still try to figure out things my way because I don’t like the answer, but that’s another story). Still, I’ve gotten better as I’ve gotten older at watching and listening for God’s instructions.

This week, the answer came from one of our regular volunteers and friends of the farm, Amir (I haven’t asked his permission to use his full name and picture on social media yet). Amir is one of my favorite people. He comes most Thursdays and Saturday mornings to help at the farm and often brings his young son as well. He believes his son needs to learn the value of helping others (that won him Father of the Year in my book). When he saw our problem, he called to meet me at Opal’s Farm on Friday morning. He wanted to put our heads together to see if we could find a solution to the irrigation problem.

We pondered our options and then it occurred to Amir that we could pull the pump from its pipe to the river, extend the Pex piping and electrical wire and push the pump farther into the river. Great idea! I was fully expecting Amir to have to go on to his work and do it over the weekend. He looked at me and said, “If we can get the parts this morning, we should have water this afternoon”. Needless to say, after a very long Friday and very cold Trinity River water we have irrigation again.

The reason I mention this is because I need to tell you how blessed I am to have great volunteers, and especially Amir. He sees his time as an investment in Opal’s Farm, our mission, and our future. He gave up his work time to help at a critical moment. That’s the kind of people that God has blessed me with over the last seven years at Opal’s Farm. I just want to give him a special shout-out.

Texas Farm Bureau Day

We were also blessed to have a group of college students from around the state and the Texas Farm Bureau come by on Saturday morning. Many of these folks have production farming experience so the amount of work and the initiative they brought to Opal’s on a Saturday morning was beyond amazing. Thanks to these young people our tomatoes are planted, most of the trellises up, and the beds are weed-free (at least until the next rain…). Thanks to Kyndal with the Texas Farm Bureau for putting all this together!

If you would like to volunteer as an individual or as a group, please feel free to call 817.602.8225, but hurry as Spring dates are going fast.