One Week at a Time

While in the moment, it’s difficult to quantify what a change has done to you. I’m sure it will take a long time for me to fully understand it, but after the first week at Idle Acres, I can tell such a difference in myself.  

Friday was the first time in years I got to the end of a work week (and a tough one at that) without feeling like my head was going to explode from the stress. Maybe it was working outside, breathing fresh air all day and, when time permitted, writing to the rhythm of the trees. Maybe it was the constant dodging and swatting of the bees and wasps that kept me distracted from the stress at hand. Who knows?  

But Friday marked the first time in my life that I had ever worked a full day at my job and then walked a couple hundred yards to work in a field of blueberry trees. I felt so connected to them. With weed-eater in hand, I carefully navigated the bases of the trees, using the big plastic guard as a protector so that no damage would befall the trees. On one of the taller trees, the top of my weed eater bumped a branch and a few unripen berries fell to the ground. I felt distraught. I felt as though I had taken a bit of life from the trees and that I had somehow hurt it. But then I looked at the tree and saw what looked like millions of berries still growing, and it eased my mind.  

Generally, though, I get off work and spend the rest of the night (or weekend) still thinking about work. I’ll dwell on the minor mistakes I made or anticipate the workload of the next day. It’s natural, I guess. Especially with jobs that are always fast paced. But I didn’t do that on Friday. Instead, I had somewhat of a shared moment with the field. My wife was out there with me, mowing and trimming, and when the work was apparently done for the day, her mower ran out of gas at the same time my trimmer ran out of line. We just looked at each other and thought, “Well, I guess something is telling us we’ve done enough work for the night.”  

So we stood there and looked at the field that was so much more beautiful at that moment than it was before we started, and without even realizing it, work was the furthest thing from my mind. We put our tools away and sat down for a minute, drinking a cold glass of water, and still no thoughts of work. The sun started setting and we poured ourselves a beer and talked about the land we will own ourselves in the future. We made plans about things that will make us happy, not about what will get us through to the next pay day. I wasn’t thinking about all the things that need done around the house. The work, the supplies, the bills. Upkeep on a yurt is basically non-existent. I had worked a full day, did some farm work, and still had time to sit and enjoy some peaceful moments with my wife.  

Then on Saturday, we drove to Greensboro to see my grandparents, cousin, and aunt. It was an amazing visit. My cousin Heather is the sister I never had, and she gets more beautiful every time I see her. And my grandparents… they continue to amaze me. The last time I saw my grandmother, she could barely stand on her own. Her hips are simply shot. But at one point I was standing with my grandfather as he was showing me a picture of his grandmother (who, I learned for the first time, was named Lucinda), and I looked up to see my grandmother running – RUNNING! – after Heather’s son Noah. I couldn’t believe it. She was laughing, she was playing, and most of all, she was happy. A little later, someone said to her, “Ruth, you don’t look so down today as you have lately.” “I have my family with me today,” she said.  

As we were getting ready to leave, I said to my grandfather, “Grandpa, I hope you have a great Father’s Day tomorrow, and I’m so happy I got to spend this day with you.” 

“Well,” he said, “if tomorrow is as good as today, I don’t know what I’ll do.”  

Regardless of whether it’s Father’s Day weekend or not, at that moment, I realized that I want to feel that way every day. I want to be thankful for days as they come and not dwell on what may or may not happen in the future. All I’ve done for years is dwell on the negative, and I feel like I have missed out on so many beautiful and happy thing. I don’t know that I will stop dwelling on things completely, or even if I will at all. Habits that are as entrenched as that one is for me take a long time to break. But I’m going to try.  

And I would be remiss if I didn’t thank Kelli and Sonia for the amazing Father’s Day dinner that they prepared for Tim and I. You all treated us like kings, and I appreciate it so much. (I also appreciate the Jonathan Franzen book, too!)  

And to my kids, thank you for letting me be your dad. You all make life worth living.  

And to my own dad, in whatever corner of Heaven you are in, I miss you more than you could know.