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It’s Almost over

Monday marked the official beginning of winter – the winter solstice. The first day of winter was sunny and seventy degrees. It doesn’t look like a White Christmas is in the plan. The winter solstice is also the longest night of the year. That sums up the whole year – one long, dark winter night.

In January there were reports of a new virus spreading in China. On March 11th, the World Health Organization declared it a global pandemic that’s taken almost two million lives since then. The economy shut down in March. Even when states began reopening economic recovery remained questionable at best. To top it all off, people lost all sense of sanity and decency over simple masks. Apparently, the right to go without one and violate common sense precautions trumps (yes, folks – pun intended…) everyone else’s right to health and safety. Don’t get me started. I have friends who have lost fathers, mothers, aunts, and uncles – many times in rapid succession. Please folks – this is serious so please be kind enough to respect your neighbors…

In February, the primary election season started. By August, candidates had been nominated and the real dogfight began. We were constantly bombarded with negative ads, blatant lies, bitter division, and juvenile behavior. We prayed for November 3rd to finally shut it all down, but that didn’t turn out to be the case. Donald Trump threw a hissy fit over his loss like a petulant child. His insanity and inability to deal with reality continue to stoke divisiveness and hate. Sometimes it feels as if we’re on a downward spiral that never ends.

In May, George Floyd was murdered by Derek Chauvin, a Minneapolis Police officer, who stood on his neck for eight minutes and forty-six seconds setting off a summer of mass protests. Black people, especially Black men, are killed all too frequently by white police officers. The growing list of people of color who died at the hands of white officers has often faded in public awareness as the news cycle changes to something shiny and new. Although there have been many media reports in the past about police killings and people of color, this one was different. The video showing Floyd’s murder was particularly heinous. It got everyone’s attention. Summer of 2020 came to be known as the summer of “racial reckoning. We can only hope…

Opal’s Farm lost one of its best friends on September 7th. Chuck Briant, or “Food Truck Chuck” as many called him passed away suddenly and left a void in the hearts of all of us at Opal’s Farm. His passion for feeding people and healthy eating was contagious. He brought more people to the farm than anyone could have hoped. He was one of our biggest fans and a friend of mine. I miss him and can’t help but get a little teary-eyed when I’m watering the farm. That was Chuck’s job. It’s hard to picture Chuck without a water hose in his hand.

Personal tragedy hit on May 29th, 2020. My son Jeremy was found dead in his apartment. This has been the darkest five months of my life. Jeremy’s was born on Christmas Day in 1982. My holiday spirit is understandably lacking. There are days when the grief seems too much to bear. I get to spend a lot more alone time at the farm during the winter. Most days are sans volunteers. That’s both good and bad emotionally. The winter solstice reminds me of the “long, dark night of the soul” St. John of the Cross wrote about.

Today is a new day. The winter solstice has passed. The light will stick around a little longer with each passing day; at least for the next six months. Then the cycle will begin all over after the summer solstice in June. That’s the way it is with the seasons and it’s that way it is with life – up and down, round and round…

I don’t know what 2021 has in store, but I have faith that, like the day after the winter solstice, the light will last longer with each passing day. COVID vaccines recently became available and perhaps they will help end, or at least diminish the destruction of the pandemic. Maybe we learned a few things over the last few months. We might even discover a better “normal” when all is said and done. We can certainly hope…

On January 20th, a new Administration will begin and maybe some civility will return to our socio-political discourse. I’m not overly optimistic but anything is an improvement over the last four years, even Washington as usual. The faces change but the song remains the same…

The racial protests of this summer start real conversations that lead to real changes. The Juneteenth caravan this summer was a diverse group of people celebrating Juneteenth. Onlookers – white people – held signs “We are listening”. Listening, not simply hearing, real listening and building new diverse relationships is the beginning of change. My friend Jim always told me that “once you’re aware you can’t become unaware”. I pray the solstice has come and the light will get longer and brighter on our struggle to build a just society.

I know I’m not the only parent to lose a child (and yes, Jeremy may have been 37 but he’ll always be my kid). I’ve joined “a club that no one wants to be a part of”, as my friend Edgar says. Grief doesn’t have an expiration date. 2021 will not be “better”. It will be “different”. I’m blessed and tremendously grateful for the friends I have today – friends who have allowed me the space to grieve and are still there to offer love and support. Some people are left to grieve in isolation. No one should have to do that.

Christmas and New Year’s will be emotionally onerous this year, but it doesn’t take away what Christmas represents – the birth of Immanuel, “God with us”. Each time I think of the gift God gave us I find hope. Despite all the hardships this year I know God is with us. He hasn’t given up on His kids. After all, the winter solstice reminds us of the light – the light that’s always there.

To each of you I wish a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

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“And take up their cross.” That cross is already there, ready, from the very beginning; we need only take it up. But to keep us from believing that we must simply choose any arbitrary cross, or simply pick out our suffering as we will, Jesus emphasizes that each of us has his or her own cross, ready, appointed, and appropriately measured by God. – Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God Is on the Cross: Reflections on Lent and Easter

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A Quick Update…

Ah, Monday morning… I haven’t been on the porch much for the last week. I’ve alternated between the hospital and Opal’s Farm and had a few late nights, so the porch has been a bit lonely. I was able to catch a breather this morning and so, here goes…

As most of you know, Margaret has been in the hospital for the last week. I’m not going to share the details. Her condition has been moved from critical unstable to critical stable. Things have been up and down: on several occasions the doctors thought they had the problem solved only to erupt again. However, after several tests and procedures they believe it may be taken care of. We’re in a wait and see mode today. We’re praying all is well and the final option of surgery is no longer necessary.

While there’s never a good time for a medical crisis, this one came right in the middle of fall planting at the farm. We are so blessed to have friends and family as well as a short distance to the farm from the hospital. I’ve been able to spend some time watering the new seed and finishing preparations for the next round. Thanks to Charlie Blaylock for helping us out. We’ll be able to plant the next phase by Tuesday.

The farm has been a saving grace during this situation. A couple of hours working the soil here and there gives my mind a break. It provides time to speak with God (I’m sure the cyclists and runners on the Trinity Trail wonder who I might be talking to…) and most importantly, clear my mind and change my perspective from fear to hope. It’s difficult not to be hopeful working in a garden.

I had a long stream of thoughts this morning: far too many to share. It’s time to go back to the hospital and down to the farm. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers. Hopefully, we are on the upside of Margaret’s situation and I’ll see you all at Cowtown Farmer’s Market next Saturday.

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In the sorest trials God often makes the sweetest discoveries of Himself. — Author Unknown

A quick note to my friends: I’m posting quickly this morning so I can get to the hospital to be with my wife, Margaret. I don’t want to go into details, but I do want to ask my friends for prayers. She’s having a test today which should (hopefully) give us some answers. Not knowing is difficult. I hope to keep everyone updated.

The greatest fear most of face is the unknown, the “what ifs”. Please pray we walk through the fear with acceptance and trust that God has got this (as He has everything else in our lives!). We know we are blessed beyond measure even when life comes barging in with its friend, fear.

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Happy Birthday and Thank You…

Thoughts From the Porch: I slept in an extra hour this morning. You see, I turned sixty-one years old at about 2:58 AM. Happy Birthday to me, right? It had more to do with my body feeling my age rather than any secret celebration. It’s been brutally hot for the last couple of weeks. It simply caught up with me last night. Such is life…

I’m unsure of whether it was the oppressive heat or completing another trip around the sun that made me a bit reflective this week. I’m not where I thought I’d be, but I am right where I’m supposed to be.

I never thought I’d be farming in triple digit temperatures in my sixties. My goals were much different in my youth. But life has come full circle. Dreams have come true in ways I never imagined. My friend Charlie says I’ve found my ikagi: my reason for being and the thing for which I get up for in the morning.

I was born on the tail end of the Baby Boomer generation. The sixties, and unfortunately, the seventies and eighties, shaped much of my perception about success. I wanted to change the world when I was in college. Idealism isn’t all that unique for college-age. However, idealism doesn’t make one wealthy and that’s what everyone else deemed success. So, I traded idealism for pragmatism and chased whatever I thought was pleasing to others. I got lost somewhere along the way.

I won’t bore you with the details. I will tell you I was in my fifties before life ever began to make sense. That’s only because God began to make sense. Not the judgmental, punishing God of my youth, but a loving, forgiving God: one whom I could trust to have my back. The relationship I have with God today is the foundation for the life I get to live. It’s changed my perceptions and made me whole.

If the metric for success is salary, celebrity, or how many followers one has on social media, then I surely missed the mark. If, on the other hand, it’s about doing what you love and the people in one’s life, then I am rich beyond measure. I get up in the morning and know the day is a success even when it doesn’t feel like it, and it doesn’t at times. I’m still responsible for the bills. There’s usually more month than money…). I rarely understand how we make another month financially…

That being said, I trust God will take care of us even when I can’t possibly see how it’s going to be done. I show up, plant seeds, and water what comes up. It’s like that at Opal’s Farm. It’s like that in my life. I’m always surprised by the harvest.