This morning I received a call from my mom, who was at work, that when I was out of the house, my grandparents (dad’s side) called. They talked to my dad about their latest project that was going on at their farm in Minnesota.
Apparently (two) days ago, the Amish came, as hired hands for my grandpa, to take down the barn.
As my mom began telling me this, I began moping and feeling like a piece of me is torn away, after all, what is a farm without a barn?
Some of my favorite memories revolve around my grandparents farm and that barn was a special part of its life.
After hanging up with my mom, I called up my grandparents, for I was hit with a strike of wit while chatting previously. I called to ask how the ‘big project’ was going; how they pulled it down, if you could hear it when it fell over, etc…BUT, my main reason was to ask if they could save some scraps for us grandchildren. I can vouch for my cousins that it would be neat to take home, and cherish, a part of what we’d grown up around.
Every summer over the fourth of July, all of my dad’s side of the family, gets together for around a week and we all just reconnect and bond. At least our last family picture (this past summer) was with the barn in the background…maybe that was intentional….
The farm has a special place in my heart…it might just be one of my favorite atmospheres I’ve ever been exposed to.
This past Christmas:
I watch patiently as the birds fly around on the feeders, while icicles melt slowly in the sun with grace. Trees surround the peaceful farm day after day as the sun rises and sets. Feet of snow withhold the green grass from declaring its happiness and bounce. Blue skies reflect off the icy crystals blended with snow, creating a magical delicacy. An occasional breeze shakes magic off the great pine branches, while a lone swing sways in rhythm. An inch of glass separates me from the cold outdoors, but a candle provides the scent of pine; connecting the two worlds.
My mug of coffee, hand blended by my cousin, steams on the table by a stream of sunlight. I hear grandpa’s instrumental music fill the air, while my observing commences.
I’ve visited the farm many times in my life, so many in fact I cannot count. Every time I visit I make it an objective to have “Sarah time”. This is the place where I lose myself in the surrounding beauty, grace, and freedom. Time itself nearly disappears as if the farm is within a bubble of peace. My soul fills with poetry and blossoms with freedom from trials. How could such a place exist on Earth? Indeed, it is one of a kind. Fosston, Minnesota is where my escape is; the holder of the miracles. Miracles? Yes, miracles; surely even the light gets counted for, the magical snow, the lives that the farm-house holds when family visits–these are undoubtedly miracles of God. So, why would the Creator place me in such a beautiful circumstance? I have wondered.
Why would He bless me with such fervor? Just like the snowflake that falls on the ground in a storm, I am only one little life in all of creation.
Three days after Christmas, I had taken a walk for the main purpose of taking pictures to capture the magic that snow contained, but I received the added bonus of falling in love with God all over again. Just looking at the beauty that surrounded me, allowed me to focus on the awesome power of the Creator, and the many blessings that He has given me.
Psalm 16:2 “I said to the Lord, ‘You are my Lord; apart from You I have no good thing.’ ”
Psalm 57:5 “Be exalted, O God, above the Heavens; let Your glory be over all the earth.”
Psalm 145:3 “Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; His greatness no one can fathom.”