Holy smokes, it's April.
Doesn't it still kind of feel like February? I feel like winter has become that old Saturday Night Live skit (ca. 1980), The Thing That Wouldn't Leave. Our girls were outside playing on Friday in short sleeves, amongst the unmelted snow pile that FINALLY melted yesterday.
It was an Easter miracle.
So today, with the sun, the promise of warmer temps (the promise...), and the beginning of April, I find myself ready to face my computer as a tool to update and educate on all things going on at our farm.
I will tell you, there were many days I wanted to fast forward through February and March, however.
Joe is an excellent, caring, and hard working herdsman, but there have been several calves born into circumstances we cannot control, thanks mainly to the weather. There have been calves born in snow that although we tried to will away, could not stop from coming. We have bloody Carhartts on our back porch because of a mama who "prolapsed." Simply put, upon delivery, her insides came out. Yikes. That was a late night vet call and a very, very thankful Joe for that particular vet. She's okay, I'm happy to report, but you can't plan for events such as that, so we'll just fast forward.
Life on the farm is a series of events that you'd rather freeze or fast forward, I'm coming to realize. Today is a day that we'd like to freeze. Kids are home from school, which means, Anna is with her dad all day, enjoying fresh air, sunshine, and time spent learning how to continue to be a junior herds woman. Jack is of the age where, "me, too!" is his favorite phrase, and although he is too young, puts on his rubber boots and cowboy hat over his jammies to spend time outside looking for baby calves. The two middle girls are just happy to be around, flouncing around in their frilly nightgowns.
Life is good.
But then there's the difficult aspects of our life on the farm, and in our life. While Joe knows that he has to tend to the ever growing herd at all times, that time spent is some times at the expense of family/church/friend time. Now that all the heifers have calved, he's a little more relaxed, and able to get away for more than three hours at a time, which is good, considering we've been sticking close to our family, thanks to that crummy "c" word that has creeped into my 6 year old's prayers at night. While it's yucky to watch a family member be sick, we've been freezing the great moments in our memories, trying to be more present when we're all together.
But we can't be in charge of our lives like a DVR. We can't choose which seasons-whether it's parenting or marriage or health or farming- will be easier. So, we deal.
I feel like lately, we here on our farm have had to deal with more than others, but I have to remember that I haven't been given the short stick. While we're dealing with a beloved family member with cancer, we see the good shining through people and are trying to stick close to our faith and family, and freeze the good days. Calving has been hard. The weather has been harder, but we're all so lucky to have good people around us to help when it's tough, and to encourage when it's tougher. While I'd like to fast forward a lot as of late, it's all do-able. It's at least all freeze worthy for a good story, right?
So today, I'm looking at our life as a series of freezable moments. I'm going to stop organizing the closet to play catch with my boy. I'm going to listen and be present to my girls' stories of playdates and calves, and I'm going to stop freaking out when Joe has to check just one more time, and respect the care of his animals.
Remind me of that when we're all at dinner, and Joe's still outside, okay? I'll need it.