
“An individual has not begun to live until [they] can rise above the narrow horizons of [their] particular individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

everyone has a story to tell
The intended “I’m going to post every other day in 2021” hasn’t gone as planned. I purposefully avoided calling it a resolution thinking that would help. Resolutions are a set up for failure in my book. major life changes – stopping bad habits and starting new ones – rarely come to fruition no matter how strong my resolve. Besides, the little committee between my ears loves it a resolution falls by the wayside – they love to remind me I’ve failed again. I’ve learned not to give them ammunition to use against me. My brain is often not my friend…
I don’t want to make excuses, but it has been a hectic start to the New Year at Opal’s Farm. We’ve increased the production area by 66%. Planting for early Spring crops is almost completed. Evenings are filled with virtual conferences, classes, and the office “To Do” list. Winter hasn’t slowed us down. Rain is predicted for the next three days. Maybe we can take a breather…
Late last year, we plowed, tilled, and planted an Elbon Rye cover crop on a new 1/3 acre. We’ve been able to take care of a bigger area thanks to the Kubota tractor provided to us by Zimmerer Kubota and a 48” tiller implement purchased for Grow SE growers by Blue Zones Project Fort Worth. WE realized that the tractor would free us up to do an additional section. We added another 1/3 acre and have completed most of the beds. Spring is looking good.
Winter is the time to plant cold friendly spring vegetables. We already had several winter crops in that will produce through early Spring. Now we have our cilantro, snow peas, kale, and onions in. I’d still be planting onions if the Paschal High School Key Club hadn’t been there Saturday morning. The young people were a planting machine! They got in over half (approximately 1500 to 2000 onions) in less than two hours!
We intend to be at Cowtown Farmers Market this Saturday. Come on down shop local!
I finished my morning prayer and meditation on the porch this morning and headed for the desk. I found this gem from Chalice Press in my inbox and had to share it with you all. Chalice Press is a great publisher with some amazing writers.
In honor of this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, we share this prayer from Rev. Dr. Michael W. Waters from his new book, Something in the Water: A 21st Century Civil Rights Odyssey.
Dear God,
teach me to pray
with my feet.
The steps of the ancestors were sturdy and strong.
They somehow carried them to cut down strange fruit
dangling in the breeze.
Up and down Montgomery’s hills,
To mass meetings, lunch counters, and courthouses
To face canines, tear gas, and water hoses
As bullets and bombs wrought martyrs,
Their blood still crying out from the deep.
LORD God,
teach me to pray with my feet.
For those felled while adorned with hoodie, for those who still can’t breathe, for those whose hearts have been broken under the weight of fathers suffocated on the street,
with hands raised,
“Don’t shoot!”
For Water Protectors,
For Flint,
For Women,
For Refugees,
For Hijab-wearing Sisters and their Brothers,
For the Dreamers,
LORD God Almighty,
teach me how to pray
with my feet,
That I might become a drum major for justice,
To march around Jericho’s walls
And monuments to White Supremacy,
Till they come stumbling down;
That I might say,
As did Mother Pollard to young Martin,
“My feets is tired, but my soul is rested.”
And that You, LORD God almighty,
May one day say to me,
“You have beautiful feet.”
Amen.
The Reverend Dr. Michael W. Waters is founding pastor of Abundant Life African Methodist Episcopal (A.M.E.) Church in Dallas, Texas. As a pastor, professor, award-winning author, activist, and social commentator, his words of hope and empowerment inspire national and international audiences. (from Chalice Press newsletter, 1/18/2021
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“History, despite its wrenching pain
Cannot be unlived, but if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.”
– Maya Angelou, “On the Pulse of Morning”