Digging up the theological roots of the environmental crisis

A sermon preached in chapel at Phillips Theological Seminary. This is one I can't let go of. It doesn't feel as well-developed as I'd like for it. Nonetheless, it's done for now. This was a different kind of sermon that I typically preach. I am more of a narrative preacher, rather than a theological expositor. This falls more in the category of theological exposition.

Here's the podcast, where you will hear me stumble over my words a lot. Glad this one is over.
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Digging Up the Theological Roots of the Environmental Crisis

Genesis 1:26-31

Phillips Theological Seminary

April 24, 2012

I want to start with some congregational participation. I’d like to see how many of you have ever heard one of the following responses regarding global warming and other environmental issues from a co-worker, family member, friend, etc.:

1. We need to be concerned about people, not the planet. God will take care of the planet. He created it and sustains it. We don’t need to worry about it.
2.  People before animals and earth. That’s the way God ordered things.
3. God gave us the earth for us to use as we see fit. We are to have dominion over it, to rule it. That’s what the Bible says.

Even if we don’t personally hold any of these views, we are affected by them every day of our lives. These views and the theology that’s used to justify them are at the heart of the environmental crisis and our country’s response to it. As shocking as it may seem, intelligent, well-educated people hold to these views. My partner Lisa met someone who is well-educated and holds an upper level administrative position in a university who told her, “We don’t need to worry about things like plastics in landfills, etc. God will eat the garbage!” Where does that theology come from and what are we to do about it? That will be our focus today, because as one who is theologically trained, environmentally aware, and deeply concerned about the issues we are facing regarding the environment, I believe it is of utmost importance that Christians and others be able to address the concerns from a theological perspective. As religious leaders, we need to pay close attention to what the Bible says and doesn’t say to help us respond to those who use it to justify practices and opinions that endanger the future of the earth. If theology is at the heart of the problem, then perhaps theology can help lead us to solutions.

The book of Genesis opens with a declaration of God’s creative work. It states that what existed when God’s creative work began was a formless void, covered in darkness. God swept over the darkness like a wind, and with God’s own words, spoke into existence light, a separation between sky and earth, a separation between water and land, vegetation, stars, sea creatures, animals, and finally humans. At the end of each day, God declares that creation is good, and at the end of the sixth day (the day on which humans were created), God declares that it was very good. Traditional Christian theology holds that this story establishes a hierarchy in creation. The story is a narrative that builds to a climax at the creation of humankind. God says that God’s work on each of the first five days is good, but upon the completion of God’s work with the creation of humans, that it is all very good. I grew up learning that humankind is the pièce de résistance in God’s creative work, a bit ironic, I think, considering how terrified some in my church were that we kids would all become humanists if we paid too much attention in school.

At the point of that climax in this story, God says to humankind, “Have dominion over” the earth. A mere 26 verses into the Bible and already we’re in trouble. It’s that word dominion that has caused us trouble. What does dominion mean? I wish we could find an alternate translation that reveals more a sense of care and less of power. Instead, some have taken it to mean that all of creation was made for the sake of humankind. In the hands of humans for far too long the idea that humans were given dominion over the earth has been used to justify hunting of animals for personal gain, for sport, all with no concern for the hunting’s impact on the species themselves, drilling of oil and extraction of other natural resources for the “good” of humankind, with no concern for the impact of the methods used or the amount of the resource taken from the earth. This view is used to justify the commodification of animals, plants, and other resources of the planet. Coupled with a firm commitment to God’s ordaining of free-market capitalism as the way things are meant to be, animals, plants, habitat, all are considered expendable if growth of human wealth and progress is to be gained. [i]

As good students of the Bible, you already see the problems with an interpretation of dominion that justifies exploitation of creation. Many have called for a tempering of this interpretation and claimed God’s intent was not for us to rule the earth, but to be good stewards of the earth. It keeps a hierarchy in place, but puts God at the top of the hierarchy and moves humankind to a position of being God’s managers, ones who use the resources wisely. This view was explicitly stated in a comment from Republican presidential candidate Rick Santorum who said the following about the Endangered Species Act, “It’s a radical ideology that says we are here to serve the Earth instead of man having dominion over the Earth to serve him and to be a good steward of that Earth.” In light of a more exploitative approach to our relationship with the earth, the shift to understanding ourselves as stewards seems helpful, on the surface, because it at least recognizes that there is not an endless supply of resources, that not all of humankind’s uses of those resources are good, and that we have responsibility for determining the right use of them. There are problems with this view, though. In the hierarchy of God first, humans second, and everything else existing to serve humankind, there is a devaluing of the earth. Such devaluation leaves the earth vulnerable to human exploitation. Viewing the earth as a resource to be used for our own benefit is not sustainable. To end the current environmental crisis and to ensure the future good of the environment, a different kind of relationship with the earth is needed.

             
So, can the creation stories from Genesis be understood in a way that points to a different kind of relationship with the earth? For starters, it helps to read the creation narratives together to enable us to see to more dimension to the relationship we are to have with creation. The second creation narrative in Genesis 2 helps temper any tendency to understand dominion as a justification for exploitation. Hebrew Bible scholar Richard Lowery points to the second creation narrative which tells us that the earth was a formless void until humans were put on it to “serve” it. Repeatedly, this story tells us that God put humans on the earth to till it and to keep it. So, Rick Santorum had it completely backwards in his critique of environmentalists. Earth does not exist to serve humans. Humans exist to serve the earth. If humankind is to serve the earth, dominion then, can be understood more clearly to be a relationship of care, of bringing some discipline perhaps to what might otherwise be utter chaos. It is the work of humankind on the earth that helps creation to flourish. Neither exists without the other.

             
This turn in interpretation can lead us to see the earth as a subject with whom we are in relationship, not a resource which can be used, whether wisely or not. It privileges interconnectedness, rather than power. But we are far from living this in reality. We live in a world where science often serves corporate wealth and greed, rather than the earth and its inhabitants. We inhabit a place where those who would spend their lives working to provide us with food become indebted to corporations bent on engineering food, sometimes even in the name of ruling or subduing the earth. We are witnesses to environmental disasters that destroy habitat for all living things, humans included, all in order to feed the insatiable hunger for petroleum which fuels the nation’s economy.

             
If we are to have hope for the future of the earth, as faith-full people, we need to work to help shift the cultural understanding from a view that gives humans superiority and unlimited power to one that privileges interconnectedness with all of creation, that no longer views the earth and all of creation as resources to be used, but as subjects with whom we are in a mutually supportive relationship. It requires us to temper our consumerism, to ask ourselves how our relationship to things impacts on our relationship to the earth. It requires us to consider outcome for all of creation against outcome only for humankind. Though it is important to continue pressing on specific issues related to the environment, no real change will come until we make a cultural shift away from a hierarchical view to one of interconnectedness. I think we have to start with ourselves, by asking where do our own self-interests leave the environment vulnerable to exploitation. My partner Lisa and I work hard to use sustainable practices in our farming and in our lives. We have not arrived at a place of complete sustainability. We ask ourselves constantly what we can do differently to be more sustainable. We seek to hold in reverence the interconnectedness of our lives with the earth. It’s evidenced in the way we structure our farm. Each creature has a purpose. Chickens provide food, but they also help clean up parasites on the pasture after the goats and sheep have fed there. The goats and sheep supply fertilizer which helps restore nutrients to the earth after what we plant absorbs them. When we’ve harvested all we can from the garden, the goats and sheep go in and feast on what’s left. We plant cover crops and leave plots unused for periods of time to allow the land to rest and restore. We use natural approaches to pest and weed control. We compost our waste from food preparation to return nutrients to the earth. Still, the relationship we share with our environment calls us increasingly to ask how do we better serve the earth.

             
Not all of us can farm. That’s not really even the point, but whether we farm or garden or not, whether we even enjoy the outdoors and appreciate nature for its beauty, we are dependent on the health of the environment. We are all in relationship with the earth. It’s up to us, though, to decide what the nature of that relationship will be. Today, I ask you, how would you characterize your relationship with the earth? For starters, when was the last time you paid attention to who you share your space with. I don’t mean just the inhabitants of your home or workplace. I mean all of creation that exists in your space. Do you hear the birds singing in the morning? Do you see the scores of bugs that crawl through your yard? Do you know what the plants are that grow in your yard, in spite of your best efforts to have only the most beautiful grass? Pay attention to these things. Cherish them. Ask them that what you can learn from them. Then ask yourself what you must do to honor your interconnectedness with all of creation.

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[i] Ariel Edwards-Levy, “Rick Santorum Worries Endangered Species Act Values ‘Critters Above People,’” Huffington Post, March 12, 2012.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/12/santorum-worries-endanger_n_1339896.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009 (accessed April 21, 2012).

Yogurt Waffles

So, this week's share comes with the following:

1/3 lb lettuce mix
1/2 lb spinach
1 bunch Tokyo turnips
1 bunch French breakfast radishes
1 bunch of arugula
1 pint yogurt
1 7oz container of garlic-herb chevre
1 dozen eggs

The first meal using the share was yogurt waffles and fried eggs for breakfast this morning.  Some of our CSA members have commented that they don't eat yogurt, or on occasion forget that they have it and are concerned that it may be too old to eat.  I LOVE yogurt, especially our goat milk yogurt, so I seldom ever have a problem considering how to use it.  I'm happy to have it with a little honey for breakfast or an afternoon snack.  However, yogurt, like buttermilk is great for baking, acting as a leavener to give bake goods a nice fluffy appearance and texture.

Here's the recipe for yogurt waffles:
1 1/2 cups flour
1 Tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 Tsp honey
3 eggs
1 1/2 cups yogurt (plain, whole milk is our preference)
1 Tsp cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla

Preheat waffle iron.  Mix flour and baking powder and set aside.  In a separate bowl, mix the remaining ingredients.  Add wet ingredients to the dry, mixing just enough to get the batter blended.  It will be thick.  Do not over stir the batter.  Doing so will make the waffles tough.

Add a little oil to the waffle iron, pour batter on (1/3 cup for standard size waffles).  Waffles are done when they are a light brown.  Once cooked, enjoy with yogurt and fresh fruit or with butter and maple syrup.

This recipe makes 10 standard size waffles.  Though we don't eat that many, I cooked all of the batter and froze the leftover waffles.  They'll be good for a quick breakfast another day, placing them in the toaster to heat them up.

Yogurt works well as a replacement for buttermilk in most of your favorite recipes.  I use it in corn bread, biscuits, Texas chocolate sheet cake.  Oh, sheet cake!  That sounds good!

Sunday meal planning for the week of Oct 2-8

Sundays are our weekly meal planning days. We take inventory of what we have already, look at the calendar to see what who is available and for how long to fix dinners, and then we decide what we’ll have each night. A new commitment to having healthy, low cost options for lunch at work means that I will also be considering what I can cook that will ensure leftovers, or what I can prepare ahead of time to have on hand to take to work. Once meals are planned, we make a list of the things we need from the grocery store (we can’t, after all, provide our own flour yet!). This is an especially important step for us, though we aren’t always good about sticking with it, because we are 9 miles from the nearest grocery store. Although I do pass several on my commute to and from work, our time is limited enough that making one trip for all that we need for a week really helps. We’re trying to get better about that.

I did an inventory today. I walked through the kitchen with a pad and pen and wrote down all that we had on store that could be used for meals. It took about five minutes to do it, and already that five minutes has saved time (and, I suspect, money) on the meal planning front. While doing the inventory, I was able to identify several things that I could potentially make this week. Here’s what we’ve got to work with:

CSA Share

The shares provided a lot of fun stuff to work with this week….some of my favorite things since it’s greens season.

• ½ pound of broccoli rabe and/or ½ pound of Asian braising mix (contains bok choi, red mustard, pea shoots, and broccoli rabe) (My share has both so that I can provide recipes for each.)
• ½ pound of baby arugula
• 7 oz each of a choice of two cheeses: feta, cottage cheese, plain chevre, jalapeno chevre, and garlic herb chevre (My share has feta and cottage cheese.)
• A few sweet peppers and/or two servings of okra (My share has both, again to provide recipes that use each.)
• 1 pint of yogurt
• ½ gallon of goat’s milk
• 1 dozen eggs

Pantry

Here’s what we already have on hand in the pantry (not including spices, oil, etc.):

• Sweet potatoes
• Potatoes
• Onions
• Garlic
  
• 2 cans of crushed tomatoes
• Corn meal
• Flour
• White rice
• Brown rice
• Pinto beans
• Great northern beans
• Spaghetti noodles
• Polenta
• Barley
• Lentils
• Dried morita chilis

Freezer

Our freezer is a little bare right now, except for a few frozen roasted peppers from last summer (2010) which probably should be thrown out, a couple of pounds of pork fat, and several packages of lamb ribs, about three or four bites of homemade salted caramel goat’s milk ice cream in two containers that need to be eaten or thrown out, and Lisa’s empty ice cream bowl and spoon (when you have an ice cream craving, you don’t want to have to walk the extra steps to the cupboard, you know).

This Week’s Plan for the CSA Share

So here’s what I plan to do with the CSA share this week:

• The ½ pound of broccoli rabe will be braised with an anchovy paste and served with creamy polenta and marinara sauce. This will feed the two of us for dinner and provide some leftover for lunch the next day.
• I’ll make an Asian salad with the Asian braising mix (it’s young and tender and can be eaten raw) with miso dressing and serve it with fried tofu and rice. Again, it will serve the two of us for dinner, and provide some leftover for lunch.
• The arugula and peppers will be used for two salads for lunch and one for dinner to be served with pan-fried okra, lentils and rice. The rule in our house is that salad dressing has to be homemade, so I’ll post a recipe for a basic dressing.
  
• I’ll take the cottage cheese to work to have on hand for a quick afternoon snack.
• Eggs and yogurt are for breakfast.
• Goat’s milk will be used in coffee and will be heated with vanilla and honey or almond extract and honey for a warm evening beverage before bed. I may use it for other things as well.

Pictures and recipes will be posted as I cook this week. What are you planning for meals?

A year of eating seasonally

The conversation usually starts something like this:

Lisa: What do you want for dinner?
Linda: [After a quick mental note that “I don’t know” usually results in disappointed glares] Ummm…what do we have to cook with?
Lisa: The usual. The same kind of stuff we harvested for the CSA. Cheese. Eggs. Lentils. Rice.
Linda: Well, I could make lentils and rice with feta. That’s one of my favorites.
Lisa: Why don’t we have soufflé, braised greens, and some roasted potatoes.
Linda: Sure, that sounds good. I’ll make the potatoes.

What’s behind all of this, of course, is the difference between the way an average cook, used to shopping in a grocery store for what she fixes, a wide array of options available to her on the shelves of the store, anything to feed whatever craving may strike, and a trained chef, who has the creative ability to see a fabulous meal in the oddest combination of ingredients, function when it comes to meal prep. Unless I plan ahead and know exactly what I’ll be fixing and can assure that we have the ingredients on hand, I’m stumped, driven only by a craving that can’t be satisfied, or so I think, and unable to see a simple, healthy meal in the beautiful food growing in the garden. I want to get over that stuckness and expand my cooking skills enough to have a much wider repertoire of dishes I know how to prepare so that I can more fully participate in meal preparation at our house and more fully live into the values I claim and which drove my desire to be closer to the source of my food.

I live on a farm, with a farmy chef for a partner who raises all (and, believe me, I mean all…well, almost all, until she figures out how to raise crab in the ponds out here) of her favorite foods. I have an abundance of good, healthy food at my disposal and all too often I’m struck with culinary dumbness. I have no idea what to fix for dinner and after 15 or 20 minutes of mulling it over, by which time I’m usually starving, I’m ready to go out for cheap Mexican in the next town over, food made tolerable only by the immediate gratification of chips and the slightly spicy ketchup with passes for salsa and the dulling of the margarita consumed before the food arrives. That’s a habit I want to break. I have much better use for that $25.

We are a farm that operates largely from a CSA model. CSA stands for community supported agriculture. The idea behind the CSA is to have a community of consumers who wish to support local, small farmers and have access to good healthy fresh food on a regular basis. CSA members pay a fee at the beginning of planning and planting for a coming season. In exchange, they receive a weekly share of the harvest. Being a CSA member requires a person to be willing to cook 4 or 5 nights a week, to try new things and be open to whatever is available seasonally, and to understand the highs and lows of farming, such as the effects of extreme heat on the egg production of laying hens or the rampant infestation of squash bugs on the zucchini and squash harvest.

I have asked Lisa and Kathleen to harvest an extra CSA share each week beginning next week. That food will serve as the basis for my meal planning for the week. I plan to do this for a year. So, in effect, it will be a year of eating seasonally. I know that the CSA share does not cover all meals for an entire week and so there will be room for the occasional out of season, not local indulgence, but the discipline of cooking with a CSA share should help me focus on learning better to prepare meals using the bounty of the farm, and thus, to better live into the values that led me to a life of farming to begin with. I’ll share the experience here, including pictures and recipes, what worked, what didn’t, solicit ideas, and provide a space for our CSA members to exchange ideas as they seek to be as creative with their shares as well.

So, stay tuned for my new culinary adventure. You might find some interesting recipes. You might learn a lot about what NOT to do. I suspect you’re pretty much guaranteed an occasional laugh, and who knows, maybe someone else out there will be inspired to live much closer to the source of their food.

The ridiculousness of hope: A sermon for the fifth week of Lent

Ezekiel 37:1-14

Audio recording of this sermon delivered in Meinder's Chapel at Phillips Theological Seminary, April 7, 2011.

Is there a more vivid image of utter hopelessness than a valley full of dry bones? The lifeless structure of what has been, left behind, bleached and brittle, nothing more than a reminder of what has been lost. It is not just a scene of death. It’s a scene of annihilation, perhaps a battlefield or the scene of a horrible disaster. The explanation for the bones’ presence in the valley is unimportant. The vision of the dry bones is given for its impact on our psyche, for the feelings of hopelessness that it evokes. Unlike Lazarus, in the gospel text for this week, who has been dead a mere four days and, in the words of the beloved King James English, stinketh, the life that inhabited those left behind in this scene of destruction in Ezekiel is long gone. With Lazarus, we’re tempted to think like the wise Miracle Max from the movie The Princess Bride, “He’s not dead….he’s MOSTLY dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive. With all dead there’s only one thing you can do. Go through his clothes and look for loose change.” Lazarus still had flesh and muscle and sinew, signs that blood flowed through his veins and breath through his nostrils, an indication that maybe life could return, a ridiculous prospect, true, but perhaps more believable than seeing the potential for life in dry bones.

Have you ever known hopelessness? The kind that sucks the life out of you, sapping you of any energy, leaving you wondering if you can go on. Perhaps you’ve seen it in others when tragedy strikes or when years of suffering and struggle catch up with them and begin to turn their vision away from the future and back to the past. Hope, in the words of pastoral theologian Andrew Lester, is “the configuration of cognitive and affective responses to life that believes the future is filled with possibilities and offers a blessing.”[1] He explains that theologically speaking, it “describes a person’s trusting anticipation of the future based on an understanding of a God who is trustworthy and who calls us into an open-ended future.”[2] There are times when that sense of God is lost and when the future seems overwhelming, for it,in our mind,promises nothing more than what we’re already experiencing, more suffering.

Ezekiel explains to us in this passage that he is speaking of Israel. We understand that Ezekiel’s vision came at the period in the history of the Hebrew people when their nation had been destroyed and they’d been sent into exile. All that they had hoped for as a people was lost. The future no longer held for them any possibilities. Their trust in God’s goodness and justice was lost.

How does it feel when you’re confronted with hopelessness? What goes through your mind on your way to sit with a family who’s suddenly lost a loved one? Or when someone talks to you about their experience of being without work for months? What about when you see children and youth caught up in cycles of violence and abuse?

What must it have been like for the prophets, like Ezekiel, looking at the destruction and hopelessness of the people of Israel? When I stop to consider the times when I’ve looked hopelessness in the eye, Ezekiel’s vision takes on a distinct quality of ridiculousness! Speaking to dry bones of life? Saying words of hope to the hopeless? Sometimes ministry is ridiculous. It calls us to trust in a transfinite hope, to use a concept from Andy Lester again, one that defies reasoning, a hope and trust in a God we are sure keeps promises of deliverance, liberation, and salvation. It assures us that what is now will not always be. That trust compels us to stay present with those who are suffering, to offer the smallest dose of hope that can be tolerated.

The process of bringing the dry bones to life in the Ezekiel text mirrors that of the creation stories in Genesis. First the body is created, then God breathes into the form the breath of life. The measured way in which the dry bones are returned to life reminds us that the process of returning to hope is one of recreation, enlivened by the spirit of God, and the minister’s task sometimes is simply to speak the ridiculous words of life in the midst of lifelessness, to be a non-anxious presence, sites fixed on the future promised by a God who does liberate and save.

Now, before we get too excited about participating in this work of restoring hope, I want to ask us to slow down and make an observation about this passage’s presence in our Lenten journey. There’s some introspective work required here, I believe. If we have any expectation whatsoever about staying with the hopeless in their efforts to regain hope, we must first face whatever hopelessness exists within us. There is a risk in life that we get so preoccupied with the tasks facing us in the present that we bury our own hopelessness, paying no attention to it, ignoring it because to look at it carefully is to feel our very breath being sucked out of us. What makes you hopeless? What steals your confidence in the possibilities for the future? Where do you need to experience the breath of God blowing through you like a strong Oklahoma spring wind, fueling fires that burn up all that’s dead, making room for newness and life? Are you willing to uncover it and face it?

You see, we’re getting close to Easter, a time when the focus is on resurrection. Many of us sitting here is this room right now know the dread that comes every year, that dread of focusing on something we’re not really sure we believe in anymore. We get caught up in theological arguments about where the notion of Jesus’ resurrection originated, was it in an actual true event? Or was it a story told by those closest to him for any number of reasons? And while I am the first to line up for a good a theological debate on this very issue, I wonder if our preoccupation with it doesn’t sometimes keep us from believing in resurrections that are truly possible for us right now, ones that come when hope is restored in what seems to be the most hopeless situation. The person who has been hopeless and has experienced the return of hope knows resurrection is real. If we don’t confront the hopelessness pushed aside in our own lives, we will never have the confidence to stand as Ezekiel, calling forth the breath of God from the four winds to restore life where it seems it will never exist again. Are you willing to do that? To make yourself truly ready to hear the message of resurrection when we get to that empty tomb on Easter morning?

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Lester, Andrew D. Hope in Pastoral Care and Counseling. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1995.

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[1] Andrew D. Lester, Hope in Pastoral Care and Counseling (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995), 62.

[2] Lester, Hope in Pastoral Care and Counseling, 62.

Exposing the editor in my head

I wish I could download the dialogue going through my head right now. Exposing it might shut it down. Let me give it a try:

Linda the blogger: I wonder what I should write about today.
Linda the editor: Don't write about the farm. People are going to get tired of hearing about that.
Blogger: I doubt they're getting tired of it.
Editor: Okay, maybe they aren't but people at work might think you don't like your job anymore.
Blogger: Why would they think that?
Editor: All you ever write about is the farm.
Blogger: That's silly.

Am I the only one who has conversations like this in my head? I know better than to pay attention to them, but I'll admit to getting shut down by them from time to time. Sometimes the conversation doesn't even get past "What am I going to write about?" The thought of arguing with the editor in my head is too exhausting, so I move on to reading the newspaper or Facebook or something else entirely and give up on writing. I thought I'd write about this craziness today in an attempt to steal some of the editor's power and move beyond getting shut down. I'm not looking for advice. I know what to do. I'm just being honest about what goes on in an attempt to change it.

I think I have to make up my mind that writing is my choice. Whether or not anyone reads it is her or his choice. Writing for me serves a purpose well beyond entertaining a reader. It's a way of capturing my experience in the world and making meaning from it, however tentative and fleeting that meaning may be. To the extent that it connects with someone else, a reader, is going to vary from time to time, but that doesn't make the process any less valuable to me. Like all good disciplines, just doing it on a day when the greatest meaning I find is "Well, I did that," helps ensure that I will be where I need to be to do what I need to do when the times come for finding treasure in my experience, for new understanding to emerge out of the words that flow from my mind onto the computer screen or paper, sometimes with barely any consciousness of them before they appear in front of me.

Commuting

I did a quick interview with a local radio station yesterday. A friend texted me saying a reporter he knows was looking for someone who commutes into Tulsa from a rural area. He wondered if I'd be willing to talk to her. I agreed to do it.

It was a short interview, only about two minutes, maybe three. She wanted to know how far I commute, why I do it, whether or not I have any special vehicle, and how I pass the time. What more is there to say about commuting? Not much, but I'm blogging about it anyway.

I commute 100 miles round trip four days per week. I don't really think about it much anymore. I do it because we have this amazing opportunity to lease the farm we're on, a place that's a great match for what Lisa does. Anytime I get bummed about how far I have to commute and how much time I spend in the car, I think about the cabin where we hold the dinners and the ohs and ahs of guests when they see it for the first time. I think about walking in the woods when there is time for a hike. In my mind I see sheep grazing on rotation and goats running up from their pasture when I call them. It's really hard for me to stay bummed when I think about all that I have here. A long commute is a small price to pay.

The thing the interview didn't touch on (it was a FOX news radio station, after all) is how I feel about the environmental impact of my driving. I really regret that part of it. It runs counter to what we're about on the farm. I have a truck. I've toyed with the idea of trading for a more fuel efficient vehicle, but then I think about all the times that it helps to have both trucks here. I start doing the math and realize, while I could save some money, a more fuel efficient vehicle will not be so significantly less that it's worth giving up the value of having the other truck on the farm. I don't know of anyone in this area who commutes into Tulsa, so at this time, carpooling is not an option, though it's something that I remain open to if I make the right connections. If I had the extra cash, I'd consider a compressed natural gas conversion for my truck, but I don't so that is not an option right now either. For the time being, I'm stuck being a gas-guzzling, long commuter.

Any thoughts on other ways I could cut back on the environmental impact?

A change of pace

It's been a quiet week on the farm. I've been home for 10 days, except for a couple of days early last week when I went up to my mom's. Lisa and I have relaxed a lot and while I don't doubt we needed it, there were a few moments when we got a bit stir crazy. Apparently we like to be busy.

One day from last week illustrates the change of pace. Lisa worked in the greenhouse and I did odds and ends around the farm. We knew there was a hole in the fence where the goats were getting out. It hadn't been a huge cause for alarm. They always come straight to the back yard and stand by the gate until someone let's them back in the barnyard. Nevertheless, most of them are pregnant and a little on the wide side. We had some concerns that a couple of them might get stuck trying to get through or under the fence. So, I went in search of the hole.

Ordinarily, such a search happens an hour before both of us are about to leave for the day. It's a little frantic. When the hole is found, everything within 20 feet of the hole is fair game for blocking it until a couple of hours can be spared to fix it properly. The repair is made and then we dash off to whatever demands our attention next, praying the fix holds and we don't return to find goats in the hen house or garage.

On this day, I headed out to the pasture and noticed that Jai, the miniature dachshund was following me, on the other side of the fence, right into the woods that border the pasture on the south side. Coyotes live in those woods, so it's not a good idea for him to go traipsing around in them. I went out the gate and around the fence to the area where he was now chasing a rogue chicken. The hen was running wildly in circles around and through the trees, doing her best to lose him, but he matched her step for step, paying no attention at all to my calls. I called and called. Nothing. He disappeared for a few minutes and after what seemed like an eternity, reemerged, head high, panting and tail wagging. A tired chicken could be heard squawking in the background. Jai sat down 20 feet away from me and refused to come. I took one step toward him and he started running around again, so I stopped and waited until he was tired of his game and finally came to me. I picked him up and took him to the house.

On my return to the pasture, the goats followed me out. I walked slowly along the fence line and found a spot not far from the barnyard. It's an area where water rushes into a dry creek after it rains. There has been a lot of erosion. The dirt under the fence crumbled away just enough to allow for the goats to get out. A couple of the goats were curious about what I was doing. I stood back to watch what they did around the hole. One pawed at it and started to go under, then turned and saw me and pulled back. I knew then that I had the place they'd been using.

I pulled the fence down, took a thick branch that had fallen to the ground, weaved it through a few sections of the fence and pulled on it until it weighted the fence down and kept it at ground level. Then I put some other debris in front to prevent the goats from breaking my fix. Two or three of the goats hovered around me while I worked, occasionally nudging my arm, an attempt to distract me perhaps or just to beg for a little attention. Goats are curious animals, never satisfied to leave us alone if we're anywhere close.

With nowhere in particular that I had to be after I finished the "repair," I turned my attention to the goats. I sat on the ground and waited for them to come to me to rub their necks and jowls. Several crowded around me, butting others out of the way to get to a position in front of me. I love sitting where I can look them in the eye and see the soulfulness deep inside each animal. It's a treat to spend that kind of time with them, but such moments usually have to be stolen here and there. On this day, I had no concern for the work that was being neglected while I spent time with the animals. It was pure pleasure.

While I was occupied with a few of the younger goats, I looked up to see Teeny Tiny, one of our milk goats, head for the place in the fence where the hole used to be. She stood staring at it for a good while, then pawed at it, trying to get the branches and debris out of the way. Obviously, she's the leader of the break outs. I have suspected as much. Frustrated with my work, she gave up and turned to a broken down round bale of hay. A chunk of the bale rested on the ground, creating a small hill. She climbed on top, ready to challenge any goat who dared to get up there with her. Others grazed nearby, eating dried leaves and the occasional acorn off the ground. I sat back and watched, feeling the warm sun and breeze on my face.

Reverb 10: Gift

Gift: This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What’s the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year? (Author: Holly Root)

Early in the year one of our CSA members contacted us about some English shepherd puppies they had. They knew we were researching herding dogs and planning at some point to get one. Initially, we said no. We were swamped and felt that any dog we brought into the house at that time would likely become just another pet for lack of proper attention to training.

The conversations continued, though, and through their persistence and after further research we decided an English shepherd might very well be a good match for us and the opportunity was one we could hardly pass up. They brought a couple of the puppies by the market for us to meet and a decision was made that the best of the bunch would be Lachsmi, a female that was bossy with the rest of the dogs. We thought she'd make an excellent herding dog. Sometime in early May, we met them in Tulsa and picked her up.

What happened after we returned to the farm is hard for me to write about. While walking with the dog, I tripped and fell and dropped the leash. Lachsmi ran. The leash caught hold of the leg of our barbecue grill and sent it flying, landing on the ground in a big crash. Lachsmi bolted and ran for the garden. I went after her, trying not to let my panic lead me to do things that made her think I was chasing her. I found her in the garden, against the fence on the far side. I was slowly approaching her when a truck with a cattle trailer came down our road, banging and clanging and making a lot of noise. Lachsmi bolted under the fence and out to the road. I ran back to get my truck so that I could try to catch her. By the time I got out to the road, our neighbors pointed across the highway, saying she'd gone that way. I slowly crossed the road and parked. I saw her in the field. She stood and looked at me for a minute. I called her name and took one step toward her. She bolted again, disappearing into the tall grass. I never saw her again.

I searched for her all afternoon, talking to everyone in the area where she disappeared that I could find at home. We made fliers to post. I put them up at intersections in the area and in a couple of stores in the small town close to us. I searched again the next day, walking all over the field where I last saw her, driving up and down roads, walking through more fields. I saw no sign of her. The friends from whom we'd gotten her came out with Lachsmi's mom and the three of us plus the dog searched again. Nothing.

I felt horrible. I still get a sick feeling in my stomach every time I think about it. The thoughts of what happened to her as a result of my clumsiness and failure to keep things under control were hard to bear. It didn't help that the situation reminded me of another painful experience with a dog that had happened a little over a year earlier. I wondered if I was destined to keep repeating the same mistake over and over. I was sure I should never be trusted with a dog again, maybe no animals at all. It was hard to sit with the awareness of how many people and animals had been hurt by my clumsiness and lack of control in those two situations.

Days went by and my heart ached. I found myself looking for her every time I drove by the area where she disappeared. I even stopped a few times and walked along the roads calling her name. As time went by, I began to accept that she was gone and so I prayed that she was safe in someone else's home, someone who simply never saw the signs we posted or didn't get a visit from one of us when we went door to door.

I went out of town on business and the time away helped. The pain began to ease up some and I found myself starting to let go a bit. A few weeks later we received an e-mail from the friends who gave us Lachsmi. They had another pup and after a lot of conversation in their family, had decided that it would help them with their healing if we would receive the other pup as a gift, no charge, and train her to be a sheep dog.

Tears streamed down my face as I read the e-mail. I did not feel at all like I deserved such a gift. I was scared to death that I would blow it again. But I could see in Lisa's face that she really wanted her and knew that it was the right thing to do. I knew that I had to get past the experience if I was ever going to survive living on a farm with so many animals under my care. We agreed to take her and responded to them with appreciation for the amazing grace they demonstrated in making the offer to us.

The next Saturday, they brought Gaia (now called Maya) with them when they came to the market. When market was over, they handed her off to Lisa who brought her home. I was nervous at first. I found myself keeping my distance. We kept her inside for a week, taking her out on a leash to go to the bathroom. We walked her around on a leash outside, slowly introducing her to the animals. Her response was completely different than the other dog's. She was calm and curious, very attentive to us, clinging to Lisa's side whether in the house or outside.

With fear and great concern a week later, we let her out for the first time without the leash. She sniffed around, did her business, ran around the yard a bit, but came back to the door, showing no signs at all that she was going to run away. Gradually, we began to relax more and trust that she was going to stay.

In the months since, Maya has found her place on this farm. Though initially intimidated by the animals, she is becoming less and less afraid to be around them. She's right at our side now whenever we work with the sheep. She goes out for hikes with us, always running up ahead of us several then stopping until we catch up to her. She is our miniature dachshund Jai's best companion, playing with him in all his craziness.

And with time, I let my guard down and let her in. Every morning, she jumps up on the bed and lays next to me while I journal and write. She lays at my feet at the dinner table and when I come home from work, she runs to greet me.

Sometimes I look into her dark eyes, the serious gaze that comes from her sober face, and I see the greatest gift of all this year, the trust of a dog who found her way into my heart and the grace of friends who decided to give us another chance.

Reverb 10: Ordinary Joy

Ordinary Joy: Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year? (Author: Brené Brown)

There was a time not long ago when I wasn't exactly sure what joy is. It had been so long since I had any that I just didn't know what it felt like anymore. Those days are gone, thankfully, and joy, both ordinary and extraordinary, have returned to my life.

For me, joy is more a state of being than an experience. Certainly my experiences can bring joy, but if I am not open to feeling it, the most common joyful time will not break through the darkness and fill me up. I've learned there are things I can do to cultivate my heart so that joy can be experienced. Writing, journaling, exercising, spending time outside, listening, laughing...all of these are ways I make room for joy to take hold.

It's hard for me to choose one most joyful ordinary moment. There are many everyday, from the moment I wake up lying next to the person I love to the first deep breath of fresh air when I step outside or the time spent around the lunchroom table with colleagues and students and again at the kitchen table having dinner with Lisa. I feel joy when a goat nudges up against me, nibbling at my coat sleeve or when I watch lambs and kids hop around the barnyard. Jai, whose very name is an expression of joy, exudes it running around the farm at top speed. It's present when I introduce prospective students to the seminary and the great things offered there and when I sit with my small group for the ITE class and watch as the group members discover new ideas for the first time. Joy fills my chest when I hear the laughter and chatter from the porch at the cabin on the night of a farm table dinner, the gasps of delight when guests take first bites of each course brought out to them.

I agree that our most profound joy is often experienced in the most ordinary moments. I think this is true because it isn't the experience itself that causes joy. Joy comes when we are awake to it, when our hearts have been opened by grace, and we know that it's the ordinary things in our lives that save us everyday. It's an expression of our deepest delight in being alive.

Reverb 10: Soul Food

Soul Food: What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went into your mouth & touched your soul? (Author: Elise Marie Collins)

I could write about this for days. It probably isn't fair how well I eat every single day. The food grown on this farm and Lisa's preparations of it are one of my greatest pleasures. But there is one meal from this year that stands out.

On the 4th of July, we went for a hike on the farm. While walking through the woods, we noticed some beautiful orange mushrooms in several spots. We harvested a few, pretty well convinced they were chanterelles, but not certain enough to harvest a lot. We brought them back to the house, did some research online to make sure we had the right thing and then cleaned them. During the hike, we also gathered blackberries and sand plums. Lisa's mind went immediately to work on the perfect way to cook the mushrooms.

That night I sat down to a dinner of seared pork chop with a chanterelle-sand plum-lavender sauce. The first bite sent me soaring. Lavender and chanterelles are the perfect marriage of flavors and the fruitiness of the sand plums added another dimension, tart and sweet at the same time. It was the best meal I had all year. Later, we went out with the interns and harvest enough chanterelles for Lisa to use in one of the Farm Table Dinners. Not completely satisfied with how tart the sand plums were, she switched to peaches in the sauce. Also heavenly, but by then I was no longer surprised by how perfect the combination of flavors is. Still, it was absolutely amazing.

I'm not a big fan of mushrooms, but the chanterelles have a fruity flavor and nice texture that make them exceptional. I can hardly wait for the 4th of July to come again so we can harvest some more.

Reverb 10: Travel

Travel: How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year? (Author: Tara Hunt)

I travel quite a bit for work and 2010 was no exception. I go to exotic places like Wichita, KS, or Jefferson City, MO, or Oklahoma City, OK. These are destinations I can easily reach by car and generally rent one to make the trip. Depending on the time of year, the drive isn't bad and sometimes the scenery is pretty decent, but these are not necessarily the locations that rank high on my list of places to visit for anything other than work.

Work travel did afford the opportunity to travel to the west coast this year and ordinarily that is occasion for great rejoicing. It was to be a quick trip to Eugene, OR, with a couple of quick meetings in and around Portland, and of course, a detour along the coast long enough to fill my salty-air-starved lungs with some ocean breeze. I made it as short a trip as possible so that I could get back in time to see the first of our baby goats born.

Alas, that was not to be. The Oregon trip was, shall we say, a bit longer than I'd planned. In fact, what was to be a 2.5-day trip turned into a week. I learned a lot on this trip. For starters, I learned that it is worth every penny of the $20 charge with Southwest to have them automatically check you in early. I learned Southwest Airlines is very well aware of the limits of our rights as travelers and will exploit them, no matter how well known they are for customer service. I learned that Enterprise Rent-A-Car remains true to their customer service reputation.

Being stranded for 4.5 extra days was infuriating to say the least and it took me about 3 of those just to calm down. I hiked and walked along the beach and then returned to my hotel room to write, only to feel the anger rise again. The irony is that under completely different circumstances, I would have been thrilled to spend a long weekend at the coast.

So, how will I travel in 2011? Hmm....not on Southwest Airlines, if I can avoid it. That said, I do hope 2011 brings some opportunity to travel for fun. Lisa and I are planning a long weekend trip to Seattle in late January or early February. It will be our first overnight trip together in some time and we're pretty excited about that. I look forward to seeing where she grew up and to sampling some of the restaurants she loves from that area. And, of course, it will be good once again to drink in that salty Pacific air.

For work, travel will take me to New Orleans, Minneapolis, and Nashville, in addition to the usual local exotic locations. Fortunately, these three offer some great eating opportunities, which is always a priority in travel for me. Sadly, Cafe Brenda in Minneapolis is now closed, so the opportunity to revisit one of the best meals I've ever had will not happen, but I'm sure I'll find some other good places, perhaps Spoonriver, for example. In Nashville, there are already plans for several of us to eat at Tin Angel. And New Orleans, where do I start? Maybe another visit to Dooky Chase's?

Traveling is all about eating and nature for me.

Reverb 10: Future Self

Future Self: Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?) (Author: Jenny Blake)

Advice for my current self from my 50-year-old self: The joy you feel is real. Enjoy it. But...that back of yours isn't going to last forever. Take good care of it.

Dear Linda in the 36th year of your life,

It's nearly Christmas and this year for your gift I'm giving you a top-10 list of things you should know to save you a lot of heartache and anxiety in the coming 10 years:

1. The llama will get out and head for the road, but the crazy black dog that just showed up on the farm is actually a rare breed herding dog. No one's trained her, but she knows exactly what to do. Trust her.
2. Llama? Farm? That...well...that part might be best left to discovery.
3. It is not failure to stop doing something that isn't working for you.
4. Jesus was wrong about the sheep versus the goats. Goats are superior animals. And it's okay to occasionally act like one yourself.
5. 35 is not too old to find love. In fact, 43 isn't either. It isn't necessary to settle for the first woman who comes along after you are honest with yourself about who you are. Therefore, don't waste another day stuck in a bad relationship. See #3 above.
6. Start writing. Now. Don't stop.
7. Get outside as much as you can everyday. The clean, fresh air filling your lungs, the sun warming your face, the freedom felt in the expanse of the sky will save you, over and over again.
8. Go with the spikey hair. You know you want to.
9. Hold on to the leash. Whatever happens, don't let go.
10. Love may not be constant from any one person, but it is always present in your life. Keep your heart open to it.

With love,
Your much wiser 45-year-old self

P.S. A bonus #11: There is life in Oklahoma. Really. I wouldn't lie to you.

Reverb10: Beyond Avoidance

Beyond Avoidance: What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?) (Author: Jake Nickell)

Looking back at blog posts from this year, the intentions I had around writing are obvious. That's about the only thing I did actually write about. A glance at my journal and writing notebook reveal pretty much the same thing, although I did do pretty well with journaling early in the year. And as for the Bonus prompt, the answer appears to be yes, thanks to this Reverb 10 project. It's been good to flex the writing muscles with these prompts and while I'd say I'm not particularly happy with the writing I've done, the daily exercise is helping me make writing a habit again. Hopefully in time, perhaps when I'm back to writing without the prompts, I'll write something a bit more inspiring.

The answer to the question of why is multi-layered. Writing for me has been a way of figuring things out. That I actually wrote pretty well came as a surprise. That people actually wanted to read what I wrote was practically unbelievable. Writing helped me make some important changes in my life. I felt a sense of urgency about writing. It was saving my life, so of course I'd make time for it. Now that things in my life have settled and I'm pleased with where I am and what I'm doing, it seems like a luxury. And in the economy of my busy life, I admit it feels like a luxury I can't afford.

I want 2011 to be a year in which I claim writing as a creative process for myself, time when I get to work on creating something. It's purpose will be different, perhaps only slightly, but it will require a different motivation and a different commitment than I've ever had. I want to learn writing as a craft, where I'm learning technique and ways of critiquing it and editing it to improve. And, while it scares me a bit to put this out there in such a public way, I want to submit something for publication before 2011 ends. I'm not sure what the next step is after writing everyday, so I'll have to do some research to figure that out.

There you have it blogosphere. Feel free to hold me accountable.

Reverb 10: Lesson Learned

Lesson Learned: What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward? (Author: Tara Weaver)

I have been busier this year than I have in a long, long time. My job at the seminary has evolved a lot, and the attention it has taken to learn how to do what I do in a new educational environment (given our new online program) has required a lot of thought and creativity. Then there's the farm.

January is the only relatively quiet month on the farm. By quiet, I mean, I don't have to be outside in the milk barn at 6:00 a.m. The goats are dried up. The sheep and chickens are on their winter pastures. There are relatively few (if any) parties at the cabin. The greenhouse is in maintenance mode. There's a lot of cleaning and dreaming and planning that goes on, but there are also nice long evenings to watch a movie or to play dominoes.

In February, we start back up with dinners and parties, planting and kidding. There's more kidding, lambing, and planting in March. And in April, market season starts, and then things really heat up.

On Saturdays during market season, it is not uncommon for us to get up at 3:30 a.m. and work until we collapse in to bed at midnight, exhausted and barely able to move. These are the days when we have dinners at the cabin on top of selling at farmers market. On such days, I don't dare sit down for more than five minutes or I won't be able to keep going.

So what does all of this have to do with lessons learned? In spite of the busyness and while we do know there are aspects of it that are outrageous and unmanageable long term, the pace of the farm suits me very well. I need to make some adjustments to allow for time to write, but the level of activity and the time outside has conspired to leave me happier than I've been in a long time in my life, perhaps ever.

Now, of course, a great deal of this happiness is due to the love I've found with Lisa and to finding a life that I love, full of animals and physical activity and an opportunity to provide something for people that leaves them healthier and truly satisfied, on top of a full time job where I work with people I truly enjoy and that enables me to do something that is meaningful. But, I've come to realize that my past struggles with depression may be largely due to lack of physical activity and, brace yourselves, boredom.

There is no time to be bored here. None. And I'm a better person for sending boredom packing. In these slower days of winter it's tempting to entertain it from time to time and in very brief moments it feels like there is actually nothing to do, but the reality is that there is nothing urgent to do. When I make friends with the slower pace and realize it means I get to be more thoughtful and intentional about my work, that I get to use the extra space to be creative, the boredom that is lurking in the shadows quickly fades. I'm able to use down time to rest and relax, but it's purposeful and helpful; it is not boring.

For me, boredom is that passionless sense of just biding time until the next important thing starts and occupies our time. I'll stay off my high horse today, but I want to state emphatically that I believe boredom is behind a lot the diagnosed depression in this country. I do not say that to minimize honest struggles and pain, but I am deeply aware, and I include myself in this, that many people can't name why they are depressed, and for many of them it may be simply because it never occurs to them that boredom and depression could ever be linked.

Now here's the startling revelation of the year. Brace yourselves. I've been looking for a good excuse to confess this in public and I can't think of anything better than a post on lessons learned as a springboard for coming out with this.

I like manual labor.

Did you catch that? Let me try again. I like manual labor!

There. I said it. Send me to the loony bin. I don't care. It's true. Sometimes there just isn't a more satisfying way to end the day than to have worked with my hands, mending fences, moving shelters, putting up new walls on the barn, harvesting vegetables, cleaning up the farm yard, mucking barns, moving hay, whatever. I like the feeling of muscles that have worked, tasks that occupy my attention such that my mind can't wander, sweat pouring down my back, mud and dust caking my hands, and the sense of deep satisfaction that comes from seeing the fruits of my labor, of being able to sit back with a cold beer and look at what I've accomplished and consider the ways in which it will make life better for someone on the farm.

This does not mean I will be giving up my desk job anytime soon. I do still like it, after all. But, I'm just grateful that I have something that fills my life up in a way that leaves me satisfied and happy, to know that in those free hours, when I'm off the clock, I have purposeful work to do that requires my body as well as my brain to accomplish it.

Reverb 10: Friendship

Friendship: How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst? (Author: Martha Mihalick)

One way in which Lisa and I are very different is that when there is a decision to be made, I like to think about it, consider the options, wait for awhile and then, usually with an external nudge from somewhere, finally go for it. Lisa, however, is more decisive. She thinks about things and considers options, asks for input from others, but in a relatively short period of time knows what her decision is and acts on it.

I think this difference can actually be summed up more in terms of tolerance for risk. Lisa is more of a risk-taker. No, that's not really it. I think it's more that I see risk where she doesn't. And this is where I believe she has really changed my perspective over the last year. Being part of a multitude of decision-making moments with her related to the business of the farm, I found myself watching how she considers options and quickly goes with what she thinks is best. Nothing has collapsed around here. No one is in mortal danger. There's been a good measure of success, in fact, and much of it due to some quick thinking on her part and her willingness to jump in and try things.

I'm finding myself becoming more decisive as a result, less concerned about risks or potential risks and willing to just see what trying something different will do. It seems there's also been a corresponding change to more quickly acknowledge when something isn't working and stop doing it, instead of feeling like, having gone through the painstaking process of deciding to do it, I have to make it work no matter what. This, my friends, is a very freeing shift.

The change has been gradual and is by no means complete. She might even chime in here with a chuckle and say it's barely noticeable, if at all. And perhaps she's right. I do, however, know that there has been in a shift in my thinking about these things and given a few more good decision-making opportunities to try it out, I'm pretty sure it will be obvious.

Just don't ask me what I want for dinner.

Reverb 10: Action

Action: When it comes to aspirations, it’s not about ideas. It’s about making ideas happen. What’s your next step? (Author: Scott Belsky)

Keep writing. Everyday. Plain and simple. No need for any more explanation than that. And on that note, I'm switching to a more interesting prompt from Lisa.

What do you think about when you're milking the goats? What is your experience while milking? What do you see and hear?

Milking is one of those tasks that allows for some good thinking time, but it's tricky, because if I let my mind go too much, I end up not noticing when the goat is getting antsy and is ready to kick the pail. It's happened more than once. Believe me.

I milk in the mornings before the sun is up. I walk out to the barn with the pails in hand and open the gate. Sally always goes in with me and waits for me to move the stool off the stanchion. Lately she makes a beeline for the mineral bag in the corner of the barn and helps herself for a few minutes while I settle in. After she hops up on the stanchion, she dances around a little while I get the feed bucket out of the barrel. Once everything's in place, I sit down and go about cleaning her teats and checking the milk.

Once I've checked her out and I'm in my milking rhythm, I start listening to the sounds of the farm. Sometimes it's the surprisingly quiet sound of one of the cats chasing a bug in the barn. Often I listen for the birds as they wake and begin to sing in the morning. Always, I hear the busy scratching of the roosters and rogue hens looking for any little scrap of grain that's fallen to the ground from the picky goats who forage around in the bucket. I hear Daisy, our little doeling, bleating, trying to get my attention for one reason or another or just to hear the sound of her own voice. I hear the chorus of sheep off in the distance calling to make sure we remember to feed them.

There are no more beautiful sounds on earth than these things. Starting my day to this soundtrack has been one of the best things that's ever happened to me, and while it's tempting to let my mind wander and think about important things like how to use Facebook to market the seminary better, I often name the intrusive thought when I notice it and return to listening to the farm.

And I'll admit it here for God and everyone....one of the things I hear is my own voice. I talk to the animals. I tell them thanks for the milk. I tell them that I love putting my face on their stomach as I milk. I apologize for having to spray cold cleaner on their teats. I tell them they're beautiful. I tell them that they're good girls. Silly, maybe but there's something about the intimate connection of milking that makes saying such things seem important, if not for the goat, then to remind myself that what we're doing here is a partnership.

What I see is the narrow view of the rear end of the goat, particularly the back legs and the teats tucked in between them. I notice all of the small pieces of hay and debris clinging to their udders and undersides and brush it away to keep it from falling in the bucket. I watch their legs for movement, hoping to avoid having feet in the pail. I see the milky white stream flow into the pail and erupt into a splash as it hits the side of the pail. I watch as the teats become limp and wrinkled once their udders are empty.

Once I'm sure of my rhythm and that my hands are positioned right to hit the pail, I see the cats exploring the barn, jumping up on the stack of bags of grain, then onto the counter, and finally up into the rafters. I watch as they circle the edge of the barn's ceiling looking down on me and the goat, and I pray that they neither fall nor jump when they get anywhere near the stanchion. Sometimes I see the new pups watching from the barn door, cocking their heads to get that curious sideways glance. I see the chickens searching, searching, searching on the barn floor for the smallest specks of grain.

And with all that good stuff to watch and hear, I still let my mind wander and think about what I'm going to do that day. Often, I'll plan my day or make a mental note of things I need to do or take care of. I think about projects at work or on the farm. If there's a problem we're trying to solve, I consider solutions to it. If I'm upset about something, I think about it obsessively until a rooster jumps up on the stanchion with the grace of a drunk trying to step off a curb and brings me back into the moment.

And always, always, I think about how incredibly grateful I am for this life and that it found me ready and available to live it....and then three goats crash the gate and come running in to the barn in a race to the stanchion and I'm back in the moment, sorting out who's supposed to be there and sending the others back into the barnyard to wait their turn.

Reverb 10: Body Integration

Body Integration: This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present? (Author: Patrick Reynolds)

I have these moments pretty frequently, actually. Most of my life they've come as a result of running and while my running suffers from my farming habit, I'm grateful to have had the experience of using a daily activity to work on consciously seeking that body integration. Like many things in life that are good, this takes practice. Long ago, basketball also helped. I was well-known for my court presence when I played. I had a sixth sense about where I was on the court in relation to the ball and the basket that resulted in some great shots and occasional blocks from time to time.

On the farm, herding animals often poses the bests opportunities for consciously seeking to be fully integrated. Take for example the day when we were moving boy lambs to a new grazing rotation. One of them was not cooperating and kept running away from where we needed him to go. He was tricky too. He'd slow down and seem willing for us to walk up to him, only to dart as soon as we were within striking distance.

Lisa and our intern, Kathleen, and I were working together to get him headed in the right direction. He ran up against a fence and was moving south toward the gate. I quietly approached closer, took a deep breath and as he darted in front of me, I lunged forward, eyes wide open, fairly well aware of where I was in comparison to the lamb, the fence, a big tree that he'd run behind, and the ground. I kept my eye on him the whole time, and in a moment that seemed perfectly choreographed, I caught hold of his leg and held on for dear life, while I fell to the ground in a thud. His leg securely in my grasp, I scooped him up under me and stayed still until someone got over to pick him up from me, not daring to stand and run the risk of losing him. I may also have been hiding the fact that landing the way I did made getting up quickly a near impossibility.

It was a comical scene, actually, perhaps not the almost mystical, spiritual experience that body integration often provides. But I did feel alive, deeply aware of myself as an integrated whole, focused solely on ending the ridiculous chase that was preventing us from moving on to the next thing on our to-do list. I had bruises to show for it when I finished, and a deep sense of satisfaction that would rival any I ever felt from those glorious moments of eyes on the ball all the way up in the air, matching stride for stride my opponent's moves, until with a long stretch of my arm and a perfectly timed move, I cleanly blocked a shot on the upward part of the arc toward the basket, with not even a brush of a finger against the hand or arm of the opponent.

Reverb 10: 11 Things

11 Things: What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life? (Author: Sam Davidson)

1. At least 1/2 of the remaining consumer debt I've carried for far too long;
2. Approximately 1/2 of the stuff in the boxes stashed in the corner of the garage;
3. Some lingering stress, anger, frustration, and grief with my family for not accepting that I'm gay and welcoming Lisa into the family;
4. Refined sugar in it's various forms;
5. The junk pile between the garage and shed;
6. My farm jacket that is ripped and torn to the point of being almost useless;
7. Any remaining clothes from the pre-weight-loss days.

I honestly can't think of anything else. I got rid of a lot of stuff in 2010. I live a relatively junk-free life. I'll add to the list if I think of something else.

Reverb 10: Wisdom

Wisdom: What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out? (Author: Susannah Conway)

Shortly after the new year, I approached my supervisor about the possibility of working from home on Fridays. I had been taking occasional days at home to work and it seemed to go well for me. Lisa and I had taken a long look at our finances and set some budget goals, most of which focused on each of us getting out of debt so that we could move toward sustainability at the farm. As we looked at where our money was going, I quickly noticed that one of my biggest monthly expenses was gas and toll associated with my 100-mile round trip commute to work each day. The possibility of dropping that item 20% by working from home one day per week seemed like a good plan. It also felt as though it would get me one step closer toward living out the values I hold around sustainability and environmental impact. When I approached my supervisor, she readily agreed and immediately noted ways in which she thought the seminary would benefit from me doing it.

It's hard to say if that was the wisest decision I've made this year, but as I sit here in the comfort of my home this morning, having milked the goats and done other chores, enjoyed a good breakfast with Lisa and am now ready to settle into the day's work, there's no question it was a good decision, and not just for the money saved.

Working from home gives me back the hours I spend commuting each of the other four days a week that are taken away from time spent with my favorite person in the world. While she does farm things on Fridays and I do seminary things, it's great to take a break together and go for a walk or to slip outside for some fresh air and to give her a hand with a quick project that really requires two people and not just one. I'm able to get laundry done and some other things, like occasionally fixing dinner.

The thing that really surprised me, though, is how much more I'm able to get done on some of my projects at work. Early on, I noticed that one day per week working somewhere other than my office allowed me the option to organize my work a bit differently and to start thinking of what tasks require me to be in the office and which ones benefit from the fewer distractions I have when the only one stopping in to visit with me is a dog who is really just interested in laying down next to me to sleep. The space I have to think on Fridays, I believe, is helping me be more creative at work.

You'll excuse me, now, while I go put another load of laundry in and start on the web analytics for the seminary.