Sunday, June 28, 2009

Call of the Wippoorwill

There are few sounds that can transport me back to a lazy summer day of my childhood more than the sound of quail calling out from the field and orchard. This beautiful bird sat all morning on top of the gasoline tank and called out to me while I finished brushing paint on the east side of the house, preparing it for the new farmer family who is buying the farm. As I listened to it sing its familiar tune I couldn't help but be filled with overwhelming gratitude to my family for the happy memories of growing up in this beautiful place. I am also grateful to my dear husband for returning here for the past 9 years, allowing me to experience farm life as an adult with all the joys and frustrations that come with it. I also couldn't help but think how I am going to miss this place that has been home to my family for 45 years. There is something sweet but a little bit sad in the call of the Whippoorwill. It's what leaving the farm sounds like.


  1. oh mother, thanks for making me cry

  2. What happened? Are you selling the farm? Where are you going? This is all new to me, and I never even saw the farm.

  3. Yes, we have signed papers to sell the farm to a sweet, young, organic farmer couple. The deal is scheduled to close August 3. We will temporarily live in one our Talent rentals until Sanford finds a mobile home park to buy, then we will move where ever that is. I have been preparing myself for this change for years but still find it difficult to accept. I have chosen Jeremiah 17:7-8 for my 2009 verse. I am choosing to trust in the Lord and put my confidence in him. My mind keeps trying to sabotage my heart and worries and regrets continue to threaten my resilience; but I continue to hope for fruit to bear in my life, that God will lead Sanford and I into a place where I will flourish like a tree planted by a year round stream. Was this how Sarah felt when Abram told her they would be moving to an unknown land somewhere west? Did she ever feel as those she was firmly planted; or, is the desire for a home only found outside this earthly pilgrimage, in the "City who's builder and maker is God?"