Huckleberry Farm’s PlumFund

This is a post I never dreamed I’d write, but then again, I reckon I never dreamed I’d be making the decision to begin life again on my own at 45. I’m writing this to give some background. To let you know why we are where we are. Another piece of my story in the never ending novel of life.

Many will say that we ask for what we get, good or bad. Maybe we do. I like to believe that, if we surrender our lives to {the reason I believe we are placed on this earth}, to worship and to serve, that we are nearly always placed exactly where we are supposed to be. It may not be what we dreamed of, and many times we certainly do not understand the five W’s:  who, what, where, when, and why. But when we believe with our heart and soul that it’s all going to work out for the greater good and our gut feeling reaffirms we are where we should be, if we stick it out, amazing things can and will happen.

Those who know me well enough know that I made a big decision a couple of years ago. A life altering decision. For months prior to that, life was becoming a place of uncertainty, everything I thought I had falling apart at the seams. Dreams shattered. Promises broken. Still, I trudged on. That’s what we’re supposed to do, right?

Looking back, we always see our situations more clearly. Now I see that those people reaching out to me were concerned for my wellbeing. The stories and explanations I was being told of why our lives were becoming so strapped and goals not being reached were selfish fabrications not centered and focused on our family unit,  but on one individual and that individuals’ sole desires. The bills that were chosen to remain unpaid for years (yes, you read that correctly-years) were business accounts that were solely in my name, not joint accounts. The promises broken were not only personal. In fact, the majority of them probably didn’t affect me directly. But indirectly, they hurt my very soul.

I will never forget the day that I had a grown man in tears, crying on my shoulder in my milk barn. The night before he had basically been told that he was stupid, he would never understand farming and the only thing he had to offer was labor. He had dedicated the previous two years of his life to the farm that he was supposedly not smart enough to be on and had a dream of having his own sustainable farm to support his growing family. But the complete insensitivity and lack of encouragement he had received the night before cut him to the core. And even though I was flabbergasted as the comments made to him, the best advice and support I could give him the next morning was that he only try and understand the person from whom those comments came. He was a stern man, being hardened by life himself, lacking empathy and ultimately, kindness.

Weeks later I realized how hurtful my own comments must have been. I offered no real advice or inspiration. No comfort or reassurance that he was working hard towards an attainable goal. I was crushed. Disappointed in myself. And I finally realized then what I had been avoiding and trying to cover up for years.

The light began to brighten and I began to fight for what I knew was right. I realized that our customers, friends and family should not have to be the ones to pay the high price for our selfish goals and desires. I realized that bigger wasn’t always better and I had no desire to feed the world. If I couldn’t even feasibly take care of my immediate community around me, how in tarnation would it even be a possibility to try to feed the world?

Long story short (or not!), my concerns, thoughts, opinions and arguments were not well received. In fact, they weren’t given any merit at all. And I realized I was fighting a battle I could not win by staying on the front lines. I grew weary of being the one formulating explanations to define behaviors I couldn’t comprehend. This was a battle that I would have to retreat from and re-engage from a different direction.

Fast forward. In May, 2016, I left the battle with the encouragement and support of my adult daughter, Taylor, and a very limited number of true friends close to the situation. And do you know one of the biggest concerns I had?  My customers. I couldn’t say a word. We just disappeared off the face of the earth for several months. We were in hiding, I guess, to maintain the safety of our animals that we had taken with us. That’s the only reason. Never was I worried about me. Nor my daughter about herself. But I feared for the safety and wellbeing of my Jersey cows and Taylor for her flock of sheep.

Truth of the matter is, had I said anything, I would never have been allowed to take my animals with me. They’re my girls. My livelihood.  No one else put the time and effort into them that I did. And Taylor owned her sheep from the beginning when she purchased them at age 15.  Everything else we walked away from.

Everything. For me, that meant leaving behind 1,000 acres, the herd of beef cows, the pigs, sheep, laying hens, meat goats, vehicles, retail food, marketing and agri-tourism business, neighbors, friends, church, 16 years of everything.  Well, except the debt of those unpaid bills for our business that were in my name.  Remember those?  Yeah, I got to keep those.  Oh, and six chickens.  Of course, walking away without fighting for some monetary value from the history of 16 years was against the advice of everyone I confided in.  But you see, it was never about money for me.  It was never about feeding the world. And fighting for something that came with knowing there were moral and ethical issues attached for me was unfathomable.  Was walking away from everything against better judgement?  Maybe. Against peace of heart and mind?  Never. There was never a doubt that I was going exactly where I was supposed to be.