This weekend, Keith and I were able to spend time with my paternal grandparents in New Paris, Indiana. My grandpa has worked and lived on a farm since he was a child, and I believe that next to his love for God and family, he is truly in love with farming.
And what’s not to love about a peaceful green field of spring grass, spotted by grazing calves?
Farewell, for a while
Most people who hear we’re moving to New Zealand are excited for our adventure. Some of them say they wish they could do the same. But many of them insist they could never leave their family. It’s just too far, too hard to justify.
And I would agree, it’s very hard. But both Keith and I have been given family who encourage the pioneer spirit. They posses a security of identity and clarity of purpose, and can’t be turned away from their goals just because, well, it’s hard. Or out-of-the-box. Or kind of crazy.
Believe me, farming is kind of crazy if you look at it from the right angle.
Like from the ground after you’ve been kicked by a cow. Or jumped from a run-away horse. Or landed face-first in manure.
I’m thankful for my family. I’m thankful that they’re strong, God-fearing, and full of laughter.
I’m glad we’re only saying farewell for a while.
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