F is for our Farm {What it represents for me.}

Our kids were the first to call it a farm. When the appraiser came to our door, right after our other house sold, he opened the front door and announced, “Our house sold! Now we’re moving to a farm. And we’ll have cows and chickens and horses!”

Um … not quite.

Some of you know how much of an animal-lover I am. 🙂 There will be no horses or cows grazing in these pastures. I might concede to getting a goldfish but that would be a stretch. Maybe chickens down the road because I’d love the fresh eggs but that would be a ways down the road.  I’m in no hurry to add more daily chores to my plate.

I do have aspirations for a garden. We already have four large fruit trees, and the neighbor has an enormous, lush, plentiful garden I can see from my bedroom window, and I daydream of one for us too. However … yesterday while I studied for 3 hours for an upcoming women’s conference, I noticed that my neighbor spent those entire three hours weeding her garden. Hmm… a garden that big may need to wait a few years. Like 50 years. Until I’m retired.

But despite our decided lack of corn or wheat or jersey cows, we’re set on calling it our farm anyway. What are our hopes for crop yields this year?

We’re simply hoping to grow some godliness and raise a small crop of kids.

Certainly we can do that anywhere. It doesn’t take acreage to get those results. But for us, I must say it is a refreshing change to have a spot of earth and breathe deep and run hard and track a little mud into the house every once in a while. I don’t know exactly what it is but the moment I walked in this place I could feel my soul expand.  Like, Oh, I didn’t realize I was choking to death until I finally was able to breathe.  Maybe it’s the fresh air or room to run or maybe it’s just walking in grace and simply  and unapologetically being Jeff and Kari Patterson: Children of God, made in His image, and imperfectly reflecting His glory in all our lovelimess. 

Because I’ll confess: I know what it’s like to walk in shoes that don’t fit. Haven’t we all had those moments when we looked down at our painfully pinched toes and wondered, “Whose are these and why am I wearing them?”

Certainly walking in the freedom of grace and simply being who God made you to be does not always require a new address. Probably never. But oh my is it fun to tune down all the other voices and turn His up real loud.  His voice brings peace, clarity, calm.

His voice stilled the disciple’s raging waters. And it stills ours too.

For me, this farm represents the peace and calm of surrendering to His will, following His still, small voice, walking in the unique path hand-created for me. This farm, my little treehouse that rises above it all, represents God my refuge. In all the chaos and conflicting voices of our world, He lifts us up, calms the storm, silences the cacophony, and whispers His love, His grace, His simple instructions.

{Where, friends, is your place of refuge? Can you find a closet where you can crawl up onto His lap, wrap yourself in His Word, and hear nothing but His voice alone?  Any ways today that perhaps you might slip off shoes that don’t fit? We’re much more effective for the gospel when we slide into a pair hand-crafted for us, amen? Thanks for reading…}