At first life on the farm intrigued me - every conversation stuck itself to my cerebrum, every meal out of the garden was a delight - but as the days became regular and mundane, as using the outhouse lost its charm, as long hours under the sun engendered back aches, creaky knees and poison ivy, I often wished I were someplace else doing something more impacting. As my other friends travelled Europe, learned languages, loved orphans and praised God in India, I struggled to see relevance in leaning over a bed of weeds and eating hard boiled eggs. "Establish the work of my hands, oh God, establish the work of my hands," I echoed Moses' prayer in Psalm 90 as I pulled thistles out of potato beds and inspected zucchini plants for bugs to squish and their eggs to crush. Then one day it hit me.
This is important. Learning to see my own selfish habits and assumptions and how to love God through loving his earth and the people who live here is a privilege.
I returned from the farm just over a week ago. Everything I learned about plumbing, living off the grid, marketing and sales of organic products, the ins and out of retail and wholesale, eating seasonally and living local have begun to settle into a subtle yet important paradigm shift. I have never before been as convinced of the importance of self-sustainable living. Previously, my eyes were clouded to the extent of pure greed with which the American food system and consumerism is ridden. It is impossible to point a finger, though, because we ourselves are products of the system's values. Hoarding, bigger is better, appearance matters, and deserved success course through our veins. I don't know that I'll ever own a lot of land and have a farm where I grow food to feed myself and my neighbors, but I have come away with a list of short- and long-term goals:
- buy organic food
- waste less
- support a local farm by joining a CSA
- live off the grid someday
- eat seasonally and locally
- keep learning
