Seeds of Service: Serving Where You Are Needed

The following is a submission of mine accepted by a project called Seeds of Service.  It is a book that will be a collection of stories from many faith-based volunteers reflecting on the lessons they learned during their time.  It is in limbo at the moment and may never be published but this is what I wrote regarding my time at The Farm:

After graduating from the University Of Notre Dame in 2009, I spent 14 months in Vanceburg, KY working for The Glenmary Farm.  The Farm brings in high school and college aged youths for a week at a time to partake in a service/ retreat/ immersion experience.  I was one of the long term volunteers who work as liaisons between the volunteers and the larger Lewis County community.  We spent time working with a non-profit low income construction company, packing food boxes for a local food pantry, sorting clothes at a local clothing pantry, visiting individuals in a local nursing home and senior center, and visiting with people in a center for the mentally and emotionally compromised.  It was a truly transformative experience that gave me a more clearly defined lens through which to view the world and my interactions with it.  During my time, I kept (sometimes more fastidiously than others) a record of my thoughts and reflections of the weeks in blog form.  I chronicled the significant events that happened during my time and how they related to the overall message of The Farm- that simplicity and service are not relegated to service trips and retreats but can be integral parts of everyday life if you allow it.

I wrote one such entry after a week where we welcomed a group from Louisville, KY to The Farm.  Their time happened to coincide with one of the worst snowstorms to hit Lewis County in the last 25 years and they were snowed in on The Farm for a day and a half.  They grew restless as they saw their opportunity to have an impact on Lewis County seemingly get buried under feet of snow.  .  While the situation was not the most ideal, as I reflected on it I realized that the obstacles presented by the situation had provided the girls with a unique opportunity to grow and embrace The Farm.  I wrote:

   “So the girls struggled with being stuck on the Farm, which I think was a good thing. It's those challenging situations in life that promote growth. This was certainly a challenge for the girls as they tried to temper their enthusiasm for service and channel it toward what they were asked to do. But a funny thing happened; some of them began to really take the message of the Farm to heart and began to be in the moment and savor the opportunity to do service, no matter where they did it. The next day, instead of worrying about whether they would be able to get off the Farm, the girls began to throw themselves into the tasks at hand. […] As the girls embraced focusing on the tasks at hand and really made strides in their awareness of the moment, the weather seemed to reflect their progress. Where the day before they had been clouded by their worries concerning the future, this day they were able to clear that out of their minds and see the value in what they were doing. The weather, having been convinced that the girls were learning, relented and broke and allowed the girls to take their new found appreciation of being present into the wider community. Watching the concordant progress of the girls and the storm was really special and an example to me of the presence of God in the week.”

            This particular episode really throws into relief a couple of the most powerful lessons that The Farm taught me.  There are many charisms, or special ministerial gifts, that The Farm nurtures.  Chief among these are the concepts of being present and serving where you are needed.  Following in the footsteps of Jesus, the Farm looks to invert the most familiar paradigms of modern society.  Whereas the so-called “real world” is continuously obsessed with what comes next and where we are going, The Farm asks us to stay here in this moment and be present to those we encounter.  We ask volunteers to sacrifice cell phones, television, and even make-up in an effort to get them to get rid of those distractions which so often prevent us from truly connecting with others.  Where the “real world” judges the worth of acts based on their scale, The Farm emphasizes that it’s often the small things that we do that have the greatest impact.  During their week, the volunteers see just how meaningful just listening to someone can be and how significant their simple presence can be to those they serve.  We often introduced volunteers to the week by saying that while they had chosen to serve; they could not always choose how they serve.  Many of them, understandably, have designs that they are going to rebuild the county single-handed.  But often, where we think we are needed and where we are actually needed are two very different places.  The whole idea of what is service is turned on its head.  This topsy-turvy world view can be disorienting when one first encounters it and can take some adjustment.  This is exactly what these girls experienced when they came down to The Farm. 

            Likewise, the experience was valuable to me at the time as it showed me the true joy and peace that comes with accepting the ideas of The Farm.  I could see, firsthand, a living example of the struggle to accept the idea that service doesn’t always involve grandiose gestures or hard physical labor.  The call to service requires a response and not a dictation.  To truly answer the call we have to set our ego aside and be willing to take up the task, regardless of what that entails.  Being able to see this struggle played out over and over again by the groups was a real boon to my perspective during my time at Glenmary.  I could see just how difficult it was for people of all types to be able to let go and accept their role.  The reward was being able to see what happened after they allowed themselves to serve wherever they were needed.  In the case of this particular group, I could see the transformation happen before my eyes as they suddenly abdicated their control and trusted that what they were doing was really service.  In other words, they had found a true purpose.  Once they did that, they could truly live in the moment, no longer burdened by worries about what was to come next.  There was a sense of acceptance and peace that came with this realization.  As a long term volunteer, it was an invaluable lesson.  It was easy to look forward to the next day, the next task, or the next group.  You could easily slip into a mindset where you counted success by the number of food boxes you packed, the amount of firewood you chopped or the insulation you could install.  But seeing the groups struggle and eventually triumph over that mentality gave me the inspiration to do the same.          

Looking back at it now, those lessons of serving where you are needed and being present are the ones I hoped (and needed) to bring back with me after my time at The Farm the most.  As I have incorporated them into my life (albeit slowly) I have found just how powerful they can be and the value they have in the face of today’s hustle and bustle.  Remembering that you serve where you are needed is a much needed lesson in humility.  I spent time in Kentucky building houses, packing food boxes, and repairing fences.  But I also spent time chasing down renegade cows, spreading manure, and bathing dogs.  Each task, as an act of service was as valuable as any other.  I did not always get to choose what job I got to do but was instead a willing worker.  I had to realize that I often do not dictate the terms.  Service does not take place on my time.  I had to take myself out of the equation.  It’s not an easy thing to do, but one that is essential to truly performing service.  Because once I got rid of any sort of ego, all that was left was the concern to do something for others.   

Being able to experience ministry of presence during my time as a volunteer opened up a whole new world when it came to service.  The idea that sitting and talking with someone or playing cards with them or singing to them can be forms of service is really very empowering.  I recall fondly, afternoons at the behavioral health center playing Canasta with the women or helping a client put together a puzzle.  I am also reminded of time spent with nursing home patients, playing Yahtzee or just sitting and listening to them talk about their family and friends.  The small things that we do really do have an impact, something I was blessed to experience everyday on The Farm

Leaving the cocoon of service, however, was a sobering experience.  The Farm was a place where service was a byword and all the distractions of the world were put on hold so we could see the big picture so clearly.  But the world outside was not so forgiving.  I recall going home for Christmas four months into my tenure as a Farm Manager.  For the first few days, I held the tenets of The Farm as best I could.  But try as I might, old habits crept back in and I began to retreat back into the presence-killing technology that was seemingly everywhere.  It was a frustrating experience to say the least.  I had been a full time volunteer for four months, had none of those lessons I thought I had learned sunk in?  My mom said she could see a change but when I pressed her, all she came up with was that I “seemed calmer”.  This was not exactly a ringing endorsement of the kind of sea change I was expecting.  It seemed as if any progress I made at The Farm would inevitably be choked and stunted by the hectic pace of the “real world”.  But during the rest of my time at The Farm and afterward, I formed a new perspective on growth.  As I began to do more Ministry of Presence and saw the real impact that simply being there for someone could have and the power of small things, I began to think about the impact on myself.  If day in and day out I saw the effect that small gestures or acts had on others, it stood to reason that they have a similar effect on me.  So instead of being frustrated and discouraged by the lack of large scale transformation, I could be encouraged by those little things I noticed that were changing about myself.  I had learned the power of small things so I could appreciate the progress that was signaled by small changes.  In the same way, I no longer balked at the task of trying to simply pick up and transplant my entire Farm experience onto my outside life.  To attempt to do so would be futile.  Instead, I worked to incorporate small gestures and changes into my life.  My appreciation of these little things allowed me to reevaluate where I stood and what I could do.

The incredible result of these lessons is an exciting worldview where service is possible at any point and time.  Letting go and realizing that I don’t dictate the terms of service means that I can be ready to serve whenever I am needed.  Being aware of the impact of small acts and the power of presence means that I can take the willingness to serve into every interaction I have with others.  Fr. Larry, who was there during my 13 months, once said that as a priest he felt like he didn’t particularly do much.  He just looked at every day as an opportunity to meet people.  So that’s what he did.  He would go to the supermarket, to the local diner, and to the various churches, hoping to meet someone.  And when he did, he would seize the opportunity to be a living example of Faith to that person.  I can’t help but feel that The Farm showed me that this is exactly what it means to do service on a daily basis.  Every encounter we have with people is an opportunity to do service.  Every conversation turns into a real chance to connect on a deeper level and be present to someone who needs it.  Those opportunities don’t always happen at our convenience but our job isn’t to worry about whether it’s convenient.  Our job is to serve.

As I reflect, I realize what a profound gift The Farm gave me.  It showed me that service can be performed anywhere and at any time.  It is an incredibly liberating thought.  Service transcends physical ability, location, mental capacity, or occupation.  Someone working a 9 to 5 job in an office has the same capacity to do service as someone doing volunteer work in some country abroad.  I have been given the gift of having my eyes opened to a new sense of the world, where opportunities to serve are limited only by the number of people I meet.         

Peace Came And Stayed Track 3: I'll Fly Away by Allison Krause/ Gillian Welch

I am reflecting on The Glenmary Farm through the lens of a playlist of songs that have a strong connection to my time there.  The playlist is called Peace Came And Stayed and can be found in its entirety on Spotify:


3) I'll Fly Away - Allison Krauss/ Gillian Welch off O Brother Where Art Thou (Soundtrack)

Peace Came And Stayed Track 2: Furr by Blitzen Trapper

I am reflecting on The Glenmary Farm through the lens of a playlist of songs that have a strong connection to my time there.  The playlist is called Peace Came And Stayed and can be found in its entirety on Spotify:


2) Furr- Blitzen Trapper off Furr




So if you're gonna' get made,
Don't be afraid of what you've learned

I think I may have played this one a few times during reflection.  Aside from being a great song, I'd like to think it's a nice parallel to the journey that volunteers going to The Farm often take.  The song chronicles the story of a man who is lured into the woods by the sound of Angels and slowly becomes fused with the woodlands around him.  His skin turns to fur and he becomes almost wild.  But he is eventually brought out of his reverie and his forest home.  His fur once again turns to skin and he enters into this world he no longer knows, still dreaming of running through the forest again.

I think there is something a little primal about the Farm experience.  The charism of Simplicity that's so pervasive is literally a stripping away of all the worldly trappings and distractions to get to the heart of the human experience.  Some of my favorite experiences at The Farm revolve around God's Time Room.  Some simple couches, a couple chairs, and a bevy of board games were all that comprised that place, but there was something a little magical about the way that room encouraged true human connection.  The absence of clocks and the need or even the knowledge of having somewhere to be was, at first, a disorienting experience.  The Farm throws into stark relief just how beholden we are to our schedules.  We start counting our experience in minutes that only gain meaning because they signal when we should move on to whatever it is we are doing next- ery Prufrockian.  Given the chance to hang out with friends, we so often (intentionally or not) choose to keep intact the roadblocks that prevent a truly deep and meaningful connection.  Whether it's our choice of venue (crowded bar), our choice of activity (playing video games, seeing a movie) or just that fact that we all-too-often give into the temptation of having a small computer in our front pocket, its often hard to focus on the people around us.

Now, those previously mentioned places, and activities, and even the cell phones aren't inherently evil.  But it can be a struggle to remained actively engaged among all the activity of our lives.  So even during times where we may want to connect with others, we can be our own worst enemy.

But  at The Farm, given the chance to live with those we are serving and serving with, this beautiful, collective slow-down happens.  Without that pressure of where to be next, we start appreciating where we ARE, and that's where the transformation begins.  Now every moment, every interaction, becomes infused with presence.  Where you would be side-glanced to all hell if you suggested a night of playing Canasta to your friends, here it becomes a wonderful opportunity to laugh, share, and connect.  And through this, every moment becomes one of service.  There is not distinction between construction work where you put up insulation in the Kentucky heat and the UNO game you share at the end of the day.  The skin turns to fur and you begin to feel a little more of the moment, than merely experiencing it.

Unfortunately, for all of us, that can only be temporary.  Something has to interrupt our reverie, bringing us out of the wilderness.  Now we are ushered into this world we do not know but our time in the woods was real.  We've been in this world of deep connection and presence that clashes mightily with the fast paced reality of life beyond the Farm.  It's a jarring experience, and an unpleasant one to return to a life that now feels harsh and confused, like trying to speak a foreign language.  And so I think a lot of us end up dreaming of running careless through the snow.  But I think the last line of the song is one to remember.  So if you're gonna get made/ Don't be afraid of what you learned.  The lessons of the Farm are meant to be taken out of the physical place.  It may be difficult to carry them out, but we can't shy away from the gifts bestowed upon us there.  We're called to take a little of that wild back with us.

Peace Came And Stayed Track 1: Wildflowers by Tom Petty

Music has always been a source of comfort for me and an outlet of expression when I often don't have one.  Now, I should clarify by saying that I cannot actually PLAY music.  That takes actual hard work and effort.  But I CAN listen the heck out of music.  I like to think I have a decent ear for it and can sometimes strike the right mood or convey the right sentiment cribbing the hard work and self expression of those much more talented than I.

As Rob Gordon, in one of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite movies, High Fidelity, says, "You're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel.  This is a delicate thing".  While my current emotions and thoughts about The Farm's imminent closure are varied and vacillate, I thought it best to try and direct my thoughts and reflections through the making of a mixtape of sorts.  I'm going to go through each track one by one on the blog but if you want to listen to the whole list, it is on Spotify:



1) Wildflowers- Tom Petty off Wildflowers




Far away from your trouble and worry,
You belong somewhere you feel free

Those volunteers that came down to The Farm during my time will likely recognize this one.  It was played as the entrance song as groups entered the chapel on the first night of reflection and so I think it's only appropriate that it starts this playlist.  It was Jamie's suggestion during our first planning session.  I don't know if Colleen had ever heard the song before, but I had not, only being familiar with Petty's more anthemic offerings.  But much like the rest of our year would unfold, the three of us came to a quick agreement (perhaps relieved to have made a choice so quickly).  McNicholas seemed pretty receptive to it.  Looking back, I have to laugh because I don't think we could have picked a better match of song for chaperones than this one with Hutch and Sara.  The next time during our planning meeting it seemed so natural once again to use the song...and a tradition of sorts was born.

It's a little weird to think of this titular song on a divorce  album as the welcome song to The Farm but I guess context makes all the difference.  Everything about this song reminds me about the peace of The Farm.  The folky guitars and the jangling of the piano keys meander their way about, and I can almost hear the crickets singing us up to the chapel.  And the central sentiment of this retreat to a very natural and peaceful freedom is just so perfect for what The Farm represents.  It's this incredible oasis of peace in a hectic world.  Turning down Lower Kinney Road did at times seem a little like time travel.  It's like you were going back to a time where human connection and interaction were paramount and things like busy schedules and glowing screens only got in the way.  It's pretty incredible what would happen during those weeks when we removed those self-imposed shackles.  No longer worried about what was to come, we became enamoured with what was happening at that moment.  It afforded us the opportunity to truly and deeply connect with those we encountered and made it so that people we knew for a week became fast friends.  This incredible Presence is something I cherish and something I strive toward (often unsuccessfully) as often as I can.  I think that for me, the idea and image of Wildflowers is forever linked to those intense and energizing feelings of true connection.  

There's another important aspect to the song and that's the feeling of belonging.  It's the confirmation that you, yes YOU, belong in this place.  You deserve to be among the beauty, the quiet, and the peace.  I think in a society built on schedules and achievement, we becomes so hard on ourselves.  Shortcomings become condemnation rather than constructive learning experiences and we work so hard to scrub out any sign of them.  I think there is certainly value in learning and growing and moving onward and upward but I think we're so anxious to get past those moments that we often don't fully heal and don't fully forgive ourselves for them.  But this song speaks to the idea that we do indeed deserve to be happy and at peace and we have a place we can do so.

I think The Farm functions as that place for many.  It's a place to belong, regardless of who you may think you are or what you may think you deserve, The Farm, with its commitment to valuing connections with each person it encounters, affirms again and again that you belong in this place.  I experienced it myself and saw it happen to countless other volunteers.  The Farm is a pretty foreign concept to most.  The rural setting, the pace of life, and the sometimes head scratching rules are unfamiliar on their face.  But somehow you get this sense of rightness when you're there.  I can still remember driving back from Construction when I was a volunteer in college, trying to decide what I was doing post graduation.  And the more I thought about it, the more I could picture myself there, at The Farm.  I found a place I belonged.

To this day, this song still has a centering quality for me.  It's a reminder of days spent laughing, working, sharing, and being with others in the most intense way possible.  It's a call to always be present, to always have fun, and to always love.  It was such a blessing to be able to live in that for 14 months, 14 months where I got to be far away from trouble and worry and somewhere I felt free.

A Morning at Wild Woman's

Long term volunteers at The Glenmary Farm are actually Americorps volunteers, which means we are entitled to an Americorps scholarship reward at the end of our time.  As part of the Americorps requirements, we had to submit what they called a "Great Story".  It is essentially an open reflection on an aspect of our time as an Americorps member that affected us or encapsulated our experience.  I chose to focus on an experience that sticks with many volunteers- their visit with Wild Woman.

A Morning at Wild Woman’s

“This is old Weasel Evans.  He used to be down at the Fly Branch, where we used to go for country music.  One day he asked me to dance so I picked him up, twirled him around, set him back down, and told him that’s the best I could do.  The Colonel’s wife told him ‘You need to find yourself a woman like that’ but he said “Oh no, she’s too wild for me!  She’d throw me through a barn door.’  And that’s how I became the Wild Woman of Trace Creek.”

Thus begins a morning with Edith “Wild Woman” Smith.  What ensues is the epitome of hospitality and love.  She has had a relationship with the Glenmary Farm since 1989/1990 and has welcomed over 11,000 first time visitors into her home (and quite a few return guests).  Each of those 11,000 experiences a morning filled with jokes, advice, pictures, cow feeding, laughter, and love. 

The day begins with the opportunity to feed her cows.  She keeps 5 or so cows on hand at a time specifically for volunteers.  The cows quickly make their way over once they see the hay being brought out and begin to crowd the fence, jockeying for position as the volunteers tear off pieces of the thistle to dangle in front of them.  Only the most courageous of volunteers dare to feed them with their mouths, chancing an encounter with the long, leathery tongues of the bovines. 

Once inside her home, volunteers read a series of jokes and funny articles collected by Wild Woman over the years.  They are a gathering of what we might recognize as those annoying spam mail chain letters that our older relatives insist on clogging our inboxes with to our chagrin.  Our gut reaction is to banish things like these to our trash bin.  But the beauty of a morning at Wild Woman’s is the ability to transform the commonplace or mundane into a communal experience filled with joy.  Of course, it is Wild Woman herself who helps the transformation through her presence and attitude.  She sits in a chair as the volunteers read off her stories and jokes and laughs right alongside them.  Her anticipatory giggles before an especially funny line or her outright guffawing at a volunteer’s reaction punctuate the proceedings. 

At first, it can be difficult for volunteers to understand why we bring them to visit Wild Woman.  They question where this falls in the spectrum of service and wonder whether, despite the fact that she is a wonderful person, time might be better spent out building houses for people.  To be fair, it can be difficult to grasp the abstract concept of ministry of presence for some and while it is fundamental to the work that the Farm does, it is often the last piece of the puzzle to fall into place for volunteers.  Giving of one’s self, and the vulnerability that comes with that means that a strong connection can be formed with those we serve.  She teaches this through her own example and, in a magnanimous gesture, allows those who visit to do the same for her.  The idea that service can be done as much in the living room of a 90 year old woman as it can be at a construction site is an invaluable one.  She imparts the critical lesson that service is attitude as much as it is action on every volunteer she meets.  She sees every person as an opportunity to encounter, to reach out and touch a life and hopefully be affected in return.  This is a true gospel of Love, where her heart is always open to the heart of those she meets and the world is always seen through those Love-tinted glasses.  She is a paradigm for service and so she becomes the perfect frame for the volunteers’ week of service at The Farm, which is reason enough to visit her. 

It’s amazing to think that she has heard the same jokes hundreds and hundreds of times before because she is always so enthusiastic.  Every time seems like the first time she has heard them because she takes so much joy in the joy of others.  The enjoyment of the volunteers in turn becomes her own.  And that is the wonderful life-giving cycle of a morning at Wild Woman’s.  She and the volunteers engage in this dance of reciprocating joy.  The volunteers get so much from sitting and talking with her and she gets so much energy from talking with the volunteers.  Maybe that’s why some volunteers have a hard time associating that morning with service.  It all comes so easily and is a source of such joy that it doesn’t feel like service at all.  At the end of it, both sides have cups that runneth over.  She often says “Half of the time I’ve got patches on my britches, but who can say they have the opportunity to meet people as beautiful and as wonderful as all of you?”  I and the other 11,000 volunteers can certainly say the same about our time with her.

She became something of a grandmother figure during my time at The Farm.  She sees the Farm as a part of her family and takes the Farm Managers under her wing.  She would call to warn us of any bad weather headed our way or any particularly good deals at the local grocery stores.  Being in a rural setting far from home, it was reassuring to know someone was always looking out for you.  She invited us over countless of times to watch the reality show du jour- whether it was Survivor, Big Brother, or Amazing Race- always followed by marveling at the various concoctions on The Food Network.  But the moments I enjoyed the most were those spent on her porch just “shootin’ the bull” as she would say.  It was in these moments I could really focus and absorb the tremendous gift that she represents.  The love in her eyes and heart radiated out from her as she told us about her childhood or past Farm groups, weaving us into the beautiful tapestry that is her extraordinary life.  Those moments resonate with me as I look back on my year of Americorps service because they represent the essence of service.  It is the extension of heart and hand to a stranger until they become family. 

John Norman: Welcome To The Farm!!

Back in the 80s, a man by the name of John Norman started taking groups of students from McNicholas High School in Cincinnati, OH to the Farm.  He became enamoured with the place, as many do, and continued to take groups to experience its Simplicity and Service.  When Colleen and I arrived, our first group was from McNic.  John Norman was no longer taking groups himself but had passed that duty on to others.  But as a way of connection and benediction for the new group of McNic students, he wrote a missive.  Part poem, part welcoming, part prayer it was an incredible piece of writing that perfectly summed up and framed the Farm experience.  It spoke to the atmosphere, discoveries, and lessons that lay in that piece of land and during that week of service.

In fact, we felt it was so perfect a welcome, that Jamie, Colleen and myself would read it to every subsequent group that came to The Farm during my time there.  The Farm operates under the assumptions of the Archbishop Romero prayer, where service happens where it is needed and our part to play may be a small patch in a larger tapestry.  We liked the idea of a past Farm group reaching out and welcoming the current one, much like how their week of work laid the groundwork for the current one's.

For the 3 of us, I think it had a very centering effect.  No matter what was going on or how many groups we had in a row, hearing John Norman always snapped us back into Presence and keyed us into the wonderful gifts of The Farm.  I know that as I spent more time on The Farm, it took on new meaning and I would latch onto different stanzas at different times.  It was sort of this living and breathing guide through my year and I often find myself thinking about it as a way to center myself even now.  

So with out further ado, here is John Norman's welcome (affectionately known as JNorm):

My Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ: Welcome to the Farm!!!

Open your eyes and see the beautiful expansive sky, blue by day and speckled with diamonds by night.

Open your eyes and see the dawn mist over the hills and the countless spiders’ webs.

Open your ears and hear the birds singing in the valley and the water rolling over the stones in the creek.

Open your ears and hear the chorus of insects singing their nightly hymn as well as the dogs howling in the distance.

Open your heart to the presence of the Divine who loves you in the midst of this valley. 
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground.

Open your eyes and see the heart of each person here…see them truly for the first time.

Open your eyes and see that each person, however different from you, is a treasure waiting to be discovered.

Open your ears and listen carefully to each one you encounter for their story needs you in order to be shared.

Open your ears and you just might discover wisdom for your journey.

Open your heart to the presence of the Divine, who loves you in the midst of these people. 
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground.

Open your eyes and you might see yourself in a new way...you might discover the real you that has been lost from view.

Open your eyes and your eyes and in the midst of the laughter, the work, the play, the service, the conversation, you might find the authentic you...

Open your ears and listen and you might hear a stirring in your heart... that the simplicity of The Farm... the simplicity of life in these hills is a part of you... a part worth keeping.

Open your heart to the presence of the Divine, who loves you in the midst of quiet simplicity. 
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground.

Open your eyes for the Divine Creator is present, permeating this time... this place.

Open your eyes for the Living Christ is present in the one sitting beside you... working beside you... laughing beside you.

Open your ears and LISTEN, the Eternal One who has shared life with you is speaking to you this week... yes, to you!!!

Open yourself to Immanuel... "God with Us" and you might see the "face of God."
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground!!!!

Peace be with you,   
Your brother in Christ,

John Norman

Loras College: What the Hell is a Duhawk Anyway?

Right before Easter 2010, we welcomed Loras College, a small school in Dubuque, Iowa, to The Farm. This was a week that would definitely be one of those roll with the punches type of weeks and actually was the harbinger of just how much we would have to roll with the punches in the coming months.

Thankfully this group was full of volunteers who were certainly willing to be flexible. Their good humor and easy going attitude definitely made what could have been a really difficult week one that was focused on service and supporting each other.

Their student leader, Cassie, had been to the Farm the year before, and I think that experience was a real help to her and provided a strong base for her leadership. This might seem like a pretty obvious statement by me. You might think that "Of course being familiar with the Farm would be a strength". And while that seems pretty logical, it's not always the case. One of the key charisms of The Farm is the concept of God's Time and living in the present. Our time, with its agendas, plans and schedules to keep often gets us locked into a mindset where the ticks on a clock become more precious than the people we meet. We get more excited about finding a new way to increase efficiency than we do about the opportunity to connect with someone. The Farm, with is emphasis on being present, really challenges us to remove ourselves from this trap. Being present means just that, living in the here and now. However, for those that return to the Farm, they can just as easily fall into the trap of living in the past. I think it's safe to assume that those who return to the Farm had a decent experience the time before that. When they return, things aren't brand new anymore. They have expectations, the burden of the past. Some come back with the unconscious hope to recreate their prior experience. So while they may be able to give in to the Farm's call to keep their eyes from straying toward the horizon, they ironically struggle to keep both feet planted firmly in the present, dragging their one foot behind them to tyr and anchor themselves in the past. But Cassie did a great job in allowing the week to take her where it would and not attempting to try and steer it in a direction she thought it should go based on what she had come to know the year before.

There was also a volunteer who had a relatively prominent stutter. But instead of letting that limit his enjoyment or his participation during reflection, he used it as a point of connection. He would crack jokes about it, using it as a "threat" whenever there was a pregnant pause after we asked for volunteers to lead prayer. He never shortened reflections or minced words on account of his stutter. I thought that there was a important lesson and poignancy in that. First of all, it really showed that it doesn't matter the way in which a thought is conveyed that makes it particularly profound; the message itself is what matters. There are plenty of reflections that I've heard that are simple, yet powerful and plenty that get so twisted up in their fancy verbage that it's hard to discern the point. I suppose it's the embodiment of the Shakespearean mantra: "brevity is the soul of wit". Secondly, I think his reflections were a great lesson to us in patience and its rewards. I'll be honest, there were times where I would be siting in reflections, hoping they would wrap up in a timely manner so I could squeeze more precious moments of sleep out of the night (Farm Managers often struggle with the lessons of The Farm as much as volunteers do, despite the appearance that we are CharismBots).

So listening to a reflection that was slowed by a series of stutters wasn't necessarily easy. Many times when he was stuck on a particular word or phrase I would have to resist the urge to finish it for him, partly out of frustration and partly out of a desire to help. Instead of focusing on what he was saying, I was too wrapped up in what I thought about how he was saying it. Once I was able to let go of that, I could actually begin to internalize the message he was trying to convey. It was the prefect lesson in patience and what happens when you employ it.

Likely the thing that stands out the most about this week is what happened with the chaperone. After we gave the normal tour of The Farm and were finishing dinner, their chaperone came into the kitchen asking if he could talk to us. He told us, on the verge of tears, that there had been a family emergency right before he left for The Farm and he was hoping we would understand if he needed to use the phone a little more than normally was allowed (there's only one line for the Farm so we tend to limit its use). We told him that, of course we understood. We also informed him that if he wanted to, we could drive him to an airport so he could get home. He seemed really relieved about it and said that he would see how the situation progressed and make a decision from there. As it turned out, he needed to return home the next day. I volunteered to take him to the Columbus airport. While I was bummed about having to miss a day at the Farm, I felt fortunate to get this opportunity to connect with the chaperone. I learned that he worked in the maintenance department, which I thought was interesting. Most of the time, the chaperones are teachers, professors, or parents of students on the the trip. I asked him how he came to be connected to the trip. He told me that it was just a decision he came to while walking by the sign up table the students had set up. Service trips were something he tried to do as often as he could. He said he liked how they humbled him and how they were generally good for his soul. He started opening up and telling me about how the family emergency had literally happened just hours before the group was scheduled to leave. Instead of delaying their departure or trying to find a replacement, he made sure everything was as stable as he could leave it and trusted that it would work out. He said that he felt a responsibility to the group and that he realized that he couldn't deprive them of this opportunity. It was a great conversation and one of those moments I loved the most about being at The Farm. It was an example of a pure, profound example of service and sacrifice from an unexpected source. Here was this man who didn't necessarily have the most lucrative job in the world sacrificing to benefit a group of people he had met with only a few times before this (the volunteers) and a group of people he had never met before (the people of Lewis County). It really showed to me that the capacity for service isn't limited by status or occupation but by the capacity to love and share with others.

March Madness Week 3:

From March 14-20 we welcomed students from Eastern Illinois University (EIU), University of Wisconsin LaCrosse and St. Edward's University in Texas. This being the third week or March Madness, Jamie, Colleen, and I were a little loopy but the volunteers did a great job of being involved and pulling us through.

First, I will apologize for my lack of detail for this week. The aforementioned fatigue meant that I didn't absorb everything as well as I normally did plus the fact that I'm a lazy bum and didn't update this blog for almost a year means the next batch of posts will likely suffer from a dearth of clear recollections.

This week's group was memorable for its interesting make up. First, there was one student and one leader from St. Eds who were graduates of Hoban H.S. in the AK Rowdy. It's no secret that The Farm loves Hobanites, so this was a welcome surprise. St. Ed's is reppin' the cross and anchor of Holy Cross along with Basil Moreau's thousand yard stare, which also was a welcome addition to The Farm.

Secondly, we actually had 2 girls (and a guy who happened to be one of the girl's fiancee but honestly, no one seems to give a crap about the groom at these wedding things) who were preparing to get married in the near future. They were from different schools and so it was a cool thing that they happened to end up as part of the same mission trip to Northeastern Kentucky. Because of my unparallelled laissez faire attitude when it comes to the completion of this blog, both Julie and Lisa (and Kyle, don't worry I appreciate the importance of the groom beyond a wedding cake accessory) have tied the knot. Marital props and snaps go out to you all. Hope you were able to take some of the lessons from The Farm into your respective marriages. If nothing else, you can realize that if your husband or wife doesn't feel like showering for a day or two, it's no big deal.

Thirdly, we had the embodiment of Hanz and Franz that week in Wesley and Dan. Both were lacrosse players and were the outward embodiment of the athlete type with plenty of muscle jokes and Anchorman quotes. I think it's part of the beauty of the Farm that it can welcome volunteers of all types. Some would think the sort of bravado and ridiculousness of these two would be incongruous with service but to believe so would be pretty narrow minded. Service, at its heart, is giving yourself to others. The way in which you do it matters little as long as your heart is in it. And while the guys certainly maintained their outward appearance, I could tell they truly gave of themselves during the week. So proud.

The group from Wisconsin also brought a priest with them, which is always a great thing to have at the Farm. First, as I've mentioned here before, it's great to have the option of Mass in the Chapel since it can really frame a work day and provide a good time for reflection. In addition to giving us the option of mass, priests come with a mindset that is already so attuned to what The Farm is all about. Obviously the various vows of a Priest are very much in line with the charisms of the Farm. So in a sense, having a Priest on board is like having an extra Farm Manager when it comes to making sure the volunteers grasp the charisms. I remember distinctly how during one particular reflection, one of the volunteers began reflecting on the struggle to bring lessons learned during experiences like The Farm back home. Fr. Mark, who followed with his reflection gently reminded her that we were only a few days into our experience. We hadn't even learned everything we needed to from the journey yet, so how could we worry about bringing lessons back with us yet? It was the perfect embodiment of the charism of God's Time living in the present. And the impact of having someone in their own group say it was really very important. Farm Managers tell chaperones before the work week begins that having them buy into the charisms is so much more meaningful to the volunteers that seeing the Farm Managers do it. The volunteers don't know us outside any other context than The Farm but they do know their chaperones outside of Tne Farm. So the chaperones buying into The Farm is a tangible change whereas with the Farm Managers it's status quo.

At the end of this week, the Farm Managers were all ready for a well deserved break. But the mixture of different people in the group was a good reminder to us that The Farm is a special place where people with different backgrounds, pesonalities and places in life can all come together and serve. As long as service remains at the core of what we are doing, The Farm will always be that place of solidarity and community. The people who volunteer are those who shape the weeks but they are united by the desire to serve those who need it.

March Madness Week 2: ND, St. Joseph's College, UGA, LUC

Week 2 of March Madness certainly lived up to its name as we welcomed four different colleges: The University of Notre Dame from South Bend IN, St. Josephs College from Maine, The University of Georgia, and Loyola University Chicago. All in all there were 39 volunteers! It was our largest group together as Farm Managers to date. It also marked a few special arrivals and anniversaries. For Jamie, it marked an exciting time as we finally welcomed a group from Maine, home of the GREATEST VACATION DESTINATION EVAH (Portland, ME). For myself, it was exciting to welcome my Alma Mater (Notre Dame) back to the Farm. In addition, Alex, Devyn and Sam, who had been down to the Farm when I was here as a volunteer. Finally, this week marked the one year anniversary of the first time I came to the Farm as a volunteer.

It was a pretty crazy week from a logistical standpoint. Having 39 volunteers here means a lot of planning and means that we have to run in a million different directions. There are only a limited number of sites that we send volunteers to each day. There are also a few of those sites (like the clothing pantry, food pantry, and construction) that require us to be there with the volunteers. So when we get groups that have 5 or 6 small groups, it doesn't leave us with much wiggle room for a schedule. Planning for these weeks is often like a twisted game of schedule sudoku.

I think this is an actual picture of Jamie during planning

One of the amazing things about this week was how quickly the groups meshed. With four different schools at the Farm, it would be easy for the volunteers to stick with what they know and associate only with people from their own school. It can be overwhelming to have so many new people to try and meet but the volunteers were extremely willing to extend themselves. By the end of the week it was difficult for us to tell who was from which school. There were multiple days where the free time after work sites turned into a party with 40 people sprawled across the lawn playing cornhole, frisbee and baseball. It was a true joy to watch how quickly everyone connected. I told the group at the end of the week that it was groups like this one that make me love the Farm and what we do.

During the week we had the opportunity to help Greg, a new architect who had just come on board with People's, move in to his new house in Maysville. Dave hadn't told us who it was we were helping to move in when he asked for our help (or more likely, I was too tired in the morning to put two and two together) and so it was a surprise to me when we pulled up to the house and it was Greg. I had met Greg rather briefly when Dave had brought him around the Farm when he was first thinking about moving down to Lewis County. It turns out that the storage company he had been using in Louisiville, where he was moving from, had agreed to deliver the storage unit to outside their normal area but with the stipulation that he could only have access to it for a few hours. So he had asked us for help moving all of his stuff into the house in the alloted time.

This is exactly the kind of task that illustrates what the Farm is all about. One of the beautiful things about the Farm is that it often expands your idea of what is service. Those coming down to Lewis County for a service trip might expect and be prepared for helping people in desperate living conditions. They have no problem digging through garbage or cleaning away muck and grime. It is easy to see the need in those situations and you can come away with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you have truly made a difference. Ironically, it is often more difficult to see the service in helping someone who is more well off. Without the telltale signs of need, we struggle to see why our work is needed. But one of the mantras of the Farm is serving where you are needed. This was a case where we were definitely needed. Greg had everything in one of those P.O.D.S., which reminded me of the little bastard child of Optimus Prime. There were moving parts and levers galore. I was half expecting to find The Cube lodged somewhere in there. Greg also was moving into a triple level townhouse, which meant a lot of stairclimbing. With the help of the group we were able to get all Greg's stuff inside the house.

I smelled trouble when Sam Witwicky was the one driving the POD

I had a couple things that struck me while I was talking to Greg during the course of the move-in. I asked him about his journey to Lewis County and learned that he had attended OSU for his degree. While there he had had the call to work on low income housing. He told me that his coursework touched on it but didn't emphasize it enough to satusfy him. In the same way, the firm that he had been working for before People's had also dabbled in low income housing but hadn't had enough of a focus to whet his appetite. Greg told me that he had been interested in the low income housing because of the challenges it presents. The ultimate goal is to put out a quality product that people will be proud to own. At the same time, you want the product to be as affordable as possible. The tension between the two desires means that the architect has to be creative with his/her design. The need for a new challenge and the desire to help those less fortunate led Greg to come down to Lewis County.

Another thing that struck me when talking to Greg was the conditions surrounding his current move. During a break in the moving, Greg told me that he had put all this in storage 3 months ago. That just floored me. Those who have been to the Farm know that one of its charisms is simplicity. We ask the volunteers to give up their cell phones, laptops, TV, daily showers, and makeup among other things. But the volunteers are only here for the week, after which they return to their homes with all the comforts they were used to before they left. Meanwhile Greg had been at home and couldn't access a large portion of the things he owned. It had to have been frustrating for him to be at his house yet missing those little things that had made it home. That sort of sacrifice really puts our own efforts into perspective.

If there was an unofficial theme for this week, it would likely be poo. During the week, Jamie had the unenviable task of mucking out Wild Woman's barn. So they spent the afternoon knee deep in cow pies. Unfortunately, it wasn't the last time we had poo problems that week. Toward the end of the week, one of the volunteers informed us that the toilets in the bunkhouse were backing up. Ok, no problem, we have the toilets in the bathhouse. A short time later we were informed that two of the three toilets in the bathhouse had also become stopped up. Thus that meant we now had one toilet for 40 people. Luckily some of the volunteers were handy enough to fashion a homemade snake and braved the commode catastrophe to fix the problem.

Like I said earlier, the week marked the one year anniversary of my coming to the Farm as a volunteer. It was also just about the halfway point of my time as a Farm Manager. So it was sort of weird to look back and see how far I had come. A year ago I literally had no concept of what The Farm was about and now I had all these memories and experiences revolving around it. It had become a part of my story. In that years time, I had met people in the community who had affected me greatly and had become like family. The week was a great check up to see how far I'd come.

March Madness Week 1: Walsh University, St. John's and St. Ben's

From February 28 to March 6 we welcomed Walsh University, and St. John's/St Ben's from North Canton, OH and Collegeville, MN respectively to the Farm. They were our first group in what is affectionately called March Madness around here. March brings the onslaught of college spring breaks. Many schools offer alternative spring breaks that introduce students to cultures and service opportunities much different than those they know. The Farm is an alternative spring break destination for many schools. To maximize this time, Bossman likes to schedule multiple groups in a row. College and High School groups come with their own unique blessings and challenges. While high school groups are a lot of fun and normally very enthusiastic, it is a truth that they require more supervision. The greater independence offered by college groups means that March Madness is a time when we can really get a lot done in the community without having to divide our energy into supervising.

Being the first of three consecutive weeks of March Madness, the details of this week are a bit fuzzy (again, sorry for my epic fail in trying to keep this thing updated). However, there were a few things that surfaced in the soupy mess that is my memory. Each group usually connects with one aspect or charism of the Farm particularly well whether it's simplicity, God's Time, community or any of the many others. This particular group really enjoyed being out in nature and the beauty that the Farm's grounds offered. They took advantage of the opportunity afforded by being away from the hectic atmosphere of everyday life and used Nature as a reflection source. While this was inspiring to watch, the three of us Farm Managers had forgotten over the winter what it was like to have access to the Farm's grounds so we hadn't emphasized that groups should check approximately how much time they had for hiking/ exploring after getting back from their worksites. That led to this hilarious scene:

We had gotten dinner prepared one evening. Whoever had dinner duty had guided preparation of the meal and had paged the staffhouse. We rang the bell and were gathered upstairs in the kitchen, waiting for everyone to show up. We waited...and waited...and waited. There were still a few volunteers that had yet to show up. Naturally, we started asking where they were. The volunteers that were in the kitchen responded that the missing ones had gone on a hike. So we sent one of the volunteers on a mission to retrieve their missing comrades. After a little bit she reappeared. We waited with bated breath for her to reveal where the rest of the crew was. She informed us simply that "They are across the creek in a tree and they'll be here in a bit". Needless to say we didn't really know how to react.

Her kitchen was a mess but she had a great grasp on the charisms

Besides our volunteers morphing into monkeys (though thankfully not contracting Ebola) there was another thing that stuck out to me. The Johnnies and Bennies left a day before the Walsh girls but we still had a reflection that night with the Walsh girls. It was a really excellent reflection that showed a lot of honesty and thought from the girls. I could really see how the Farm and its many gifts had affected them. No two reflection sessions are alike and there's really no way to differentiate a "good" reflection session. I think people are often intimidated by reflection because they think they have to come up with grandiose ideas or craft an eloquent dissertation on theology distilled into 30 seconds of speech. There are a few people who can package profound statements on faith and humanity in stunning soundbites of eloquence. But normally, the reflections that really have an impact are straightforward and, most importantly, honest. It's the honesty that gives a reflection its gravitas, not high-falutin words. Simple, honest statements about the week are always profound. And this reflection session was filled with examples.

One girl had been moved by meeting Herma, a local woman we often help because of medical conditions that render her homebound. She's a very intelligent woman who reads a ton of books and is a big fan of old Western series on TV like Bonanza. She has a lot of spunk and spirit despite having to rely on a motorized wheelchair to get around. The girl reflected that Herma really reminded her of an old woman she used to visit at home. Her visits became less and less frequent as the woman's health started to decline because it was very difficult to see her suffer. But after visiting Herma and seeing how much joy she took from seeing all the students, this girl realized that the woman she used to visit needed her presence now more than ever. Although it might be hard for her to see the woman in her current condition, she knows the impact that her presence has.

A second girl had a reflection that stuck with me. She started her reflection by saying that she thought she had done an excellent job at keeping her distance. She described how at some of the ministry of presence sites she had made the effort to not get involved emotionally. She had kept people at arms length, symbolically. It just wasn't her thing so she had constructed a wall between herself and the people she visited. It was a startlingly honest bit of reflection considering the Farm focuses on Ministry of Presence, saying that we work with our hands and our hearts here. But I think she realized that the Farm is also not about judgment and that the people in that reflection circle were not there to judge her, but to listen to her. That strategy of closing herself off had worked well, she continued, until that last day. We had gotten a call to deliver firewood to a couple in town. I had asked for a few volunteers and she came along. When we got there and began unloading the wood, the woman who lived there came out. She began thanking us and telling us how it was so cold in her house without the heat that she couldn't sleep at night. She began crying as she thanked us for the help because she was so overwhelmed that people would take care of her like this. As the girl reflected, while the woman was pouring out her gratitude she began thinking "Is this what I've been missing out on all week?". She was stunned at the depth of the woman's gratitude and how a simple delivery of firewood had brought her to tears. She vowed to remember that moment of realization and take it back with her to remind her of the impact that presence has on people. Strange that a reflection that had started out with thoughts that were the complete antithesis of the Farm ended up summing up one of the core elements of the this place so simply, yet eloquently.

Marquette University High School: Bro-tucky Oh Ten

From February 14-20, we had boys from Marquette University High School in Milwaukee, Wisconsin come down to the Farm. Going from the all girls group to this testosterone fest was certainly a jarring juxtaposition. The guys were a lot of fun and brought a lot of energy to the week and never stopped having a good time.

The week certainly didn't start out as raucous as it ended. The boys were strangely silent during the tour and orientation. We were actually starting to get concerned that they wouldn't talk the entire time they were at the Farm, which would have made the week very difficult. Turns out this was only a clever ruse to lull us into a false sense of security.

The boys were also stuck on the Farm for a day as well. They were perfectly content to hang around the Farm and do some stuff to help us out. Much like the girls from Assumption had built the box for the sports equipment, the Marquette boys built a set of shelves for the T Shirt store. In the front of our house we have a few tables that hold the Glenmary shwag that the students can buy at the end of the week. With all the different merchandise, it's difficult to fit all of it onto the tables. So the boys went to work measuring and cutting wood for the shelf. In the end they were victims of the shoddy materials they had to work with. The end product was a little lopsided and prone to tipping. However, when Jamie saw it, she rightly pointed out that it was perfect. It was an odd sentiment seeing as how it looked about as vertically level as the Tower of Pisa (and less structurally sound). But she had a point. All it needed to do was hold some clothes and for that, it was perfect. It may not have looked flashy, but it got the job done.

Besides, the end product wasn't really the point. The point was all the work that had gone into the project. In this world of what-have-you-done-for-me-lately, we often lose sight of the journey while focusing on the end destination. There are a lot of upsides to focusing on the end product. It ensures that you produce something of worth. But I think an obsessive focus on demanding perfection out of the end result sometimes trivializes the effort it takes to get there. There is as much value in the process as there is in the product. In fact, when you think about it, the process is necessary for anything to be produced. Sometimes I think we forget that.

If you'll allow me a quick analogy (cue collective groan from my readership), I'd like to use one of my passions to illustrate the point: Sports. Specifically, I'd like to use the NHL playoffs. Those who know me know that I am a huge Pittsburgh Penguins fan. The Stanley Cup Playoffs, despite what Dane Cook and his atrocious THERE IS ONLY ONE OCTOBER ads may have to say, are widely recognized as some of the most grueling and meaningful weeks in all of sports. They produce some truly iconic moments that live on in the hearts and minds of fans everywhere. It was a thrilling ride watching the Pens as they fought their way to a third Stanley Cup during last years playoff run. Watching Mad Max Talbot Shush Philly, Marc Andre Fleury stonewall Ovi, and Malkin unleash his liquor-license-revoking backhand on Cam Ward was witnessing small moments of greatness. They culminated in Sidney Crosby becoming the youngest captain to hoist the Silver Chalice. But focusing only on that image of Crosby with the Cup is to ignore all the small moments that went into its achievement. When I see that picture I see all those moments of brilliance that happened along the way. Those little moments of triumph are reasons why tears well up in the eyes of players as they take their skate with the Cup.

In the same way, accomplishing a task and the feeling of satisfaction one gets from it is a culmination of all the hard work that goes into the task. Truly appreciating the journey is at the crux of lot of the things we do at the Farm. With volunteers working, sometimes the shelves don't come out level or the walls don't get an even coat of paint, but the real value is in the doing. That's why Jamie was so right when she said that the shelf was perfect. It was perfect because it showed the Marquette boys the value of the journey.

There was one other noteworthy event from the week. It happened late one afternoon while I was preparing dinner. A group was returning with Colleen from work site. I saw them pull in and begin to go around the roundabout. I went back to making dinner but became concerned when I didn't hear the cars pull into the parking area. I peeked out the window to see a partially obstructed view of the cars idling over by the bridge with a gaggle of boys milling about. I figured that the Snitch had gotten stuck in the snow so I went out to see what was up. As I got nearer to the scene, my jaw dropped in wonderment and I did a 37436363 take to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. It was not the Snitch that was in trouble, but BRT. And by trouble I mean that the front driver side tire was completely hanging off the concrete bridge leading into The Farm. I guess Colleen had misjudged the bridge with all the snow and BRT veered off the edge. It was being held up by the front axle, which was catching on the concrete. This made simply reversing BRT off of the bridge impossible. Thus we had the surreal scene of hooking up the chain to BRT and pulling it with The Snitch. As the Snitch is less than 4 wheel drive, it was tough going. But with some effort and a little cardboard for traction, we managed to rescue BRT.

Dramatic reenactment

Assumption High School: Snow Day Like Today!

From February 7-13, we welcomed the girls from Assumption High School in Louisville, KY. It's weird to think that this was our first group from Kentucky. It was also our first all girls group. I've been getting pretty used to being outnumbered when groups come down here but this was definitely the highest concentration of estrogen I've been around in a while.


Before the week began, Joe warned us that Assumption historically gets pretty crappy weather. Apparently Jack Frost has a heydey whenever these girls come to the Farm. This year was no exception. Early, early, early (I can't stress the early part enough) on Tuesday I was woken up by Colleen. I could tell something was wrong by the tone of her voice. She tells me, "The power is out". It takes a few seconds for this to sink in. Meanwhile I see light flooding into my room under the door...and through the cracks ...and over the top of the unfinished wall. Naturally my first question was, "If the power is out, how is the light on?" Colleen's reply was, "I'm using a flashlight" (again, I can't stress how early in the morning it was). I reluctantly got up and we tried to solve the problem. Turning the breakers on and off quickly revealed that the problem was one that the electric company would have to solve. A quick scan of the Farm Manager manual didn't do anything to help things since it just said to check the breakers. Looking back on it, I'm pretty sure that situation pretty much captured our three essences pretty well. Colleen was immediately jolted out of bed as soon as the power turned off and began to scurry around to fix things, Jamie also noticed that the power had gone out but realizing there wasn't much to do simply rolled back over, I meanwhile was completely oblivious to the whole situation.


In the end, after consulting with an extremely coherent and not-at-all asleep Jamie, we decided we could do nothing more than sit tight and wait for the electric company to take care of the situation. A few hours later we reconvened in the kitchen. By now it was getting late in the morning and we needed to wake up the students. However, the power was still off. Colleen,more out of frustration than anything else said "I really wish the electricity would come back on". And, because Colleen has been wearing Doc Brown's hat on a regular basis, as the final syllable was leaving her lips the house hummed to life.


While our immediate problem of having no electricity was solved, we still had to deal with the weather that caused it. There is a pretty steep and long hill on Lower Kinney Road coming out of the Farm to the right and 59 has to go up and over Vanceburg Hill if you venture to the left. The Farm has one car (BRT the Big Red Truck) that can handle both hills pretty well even in the snow. Unfortunately the Golden Snitch does not have that capability while you would have to be completely insane to even look at Biz Marquis if there's a hint of snow on the ground. The group, as most of the groups that come here do, had only minivans that would not make it up either hill safely. So unfortunately we were stuck.


As it turns out we were actually stuck on the Farm for a whole day and a half. Lewis County got hit with the biggest snow storm in 25 years. All told we probably got hit with 10 inches over those two days. For those reading from northern climes, that figure may not seem too impressive. But remember, places like Chicago, New York, and Boston are used to those kind of numbers (though even the Northeast was hit really hard this winter). Here in Kentucky, the winding roads and hollers make a snowfall like that a major pain. The infrastructure just isn't as smooth when it comes to dealing with snow and so things can come to a halt. Schools shut down because they aren't allowed to run if not all the students can get to class. Because the transportation to some of our sites (Licking Valley and Comprehend) is tied to the school system, when the school transportation is shut down, we lose some of our sites. So even if we do manage to get off the Farm, we don't necessarily have anything to do once we leave.


Knowing that we were going to be hanging tight for a little while, we had to scramble to come up with tasks for the students. The Farm has conditioned us to roll with the punches. Many times, the schedule that we make before the week looks different from the things we do on a day to day basis. Nevertheless, coming up with stuff on the spot when we can't leave the Farm was frustrating. We did end up coming up with tasks for the girls to do. We made Valentine's Day cards for all the people in the Nursing Home. We also added to the already hefty load of T Shirt Bags.


At reflection a few days later, we were asked where we saw God during the week. My answer was that I saw it in the snowstorm. It wasn't something where I saw God's hand in the beauty in the works of nature per se (though the Farm does offer you those kinds of experiences quite often). I saw God more in the timing of the storm. During the first night of reflection, the night before the storm, a lot of the girls mentioned that they were going to use this week to sit back and relax. They were so used to going all the time and being super busy that they all wanted some time to just sit and relax. They all noticed a shortcoming in themselves that didn't allow them to do that as often as they should.


There's an old adage that you should never ask for patience because then God will send you a situation to test it. This was certainly one of those situations. The girls wanted to sit around and relax huh? Ok, well then let's send a snowstorm their way and make them relax. Apparently my vision of God is more George Burns than Old Testament, but that's besides the point. The girls had trouble getting used to just sitting around. We could see them getting frustrated with being cooped up inside. It was a good reminder to the Farm Managers about how groups view the weeks. For us, each week is another week on the Farm. There's an ebb and flow that we track through the months. Some weeks we have plenty of work and other weeks we have to scramble to work. But stepping back, we can see all the work that gets done here. Groups that pass through, on the other hand, only have their one week here. They've also been looking forward to the week with such anticipation and have been talking it up for so long that anything less than working 24/7 feels like they're getting the short shrift. It comes from a place of legitimately wanting to do as much as they can for Lewis County. But sometimes that eagerness makes volunteers forget that while they've chosen to serve, they can't always choose how they get to serve. And oftentimes it's just what the Farm needs. Tasks like Valentine's Day cards and T Shirt bags often get shoved to the side in a normal week. So getting trapped actually allowed us to get to those oft-ignored jobs. It was a blessing in disguise but it was a disguise that certainly made it difficult to see the blessing. Seeing through the disguise and recognizing the blessing is often a hard lesson to learn and takes a lot of humility and patience.


So the girls struggled with being stuck on the Farm, which I think was a good thing. It's those challenging situations in life that promote growth. This was certainly a challenge for the girls as they tried to temper their enthusiasm for service and channel it toward what they were asked to do. But a funny thing happened; some of them began to really take the message of the Farm to heart and began to be in the moment and savor the opportunity to do service, no matter where they did it. The next day, instead ofworrying about whether they would be able to get off the Farm, the girls began to throw themselves into the tasks at hand. We had some of them build a box for the sports equipment and they were so psyched to work on it. There was a lot of planning, measuring,and cutting done with a lot of enthusiasm. Another group was working on fixing the couches in the volunteer kitchen. With 500 volunteers coming through here each year, those couches serve as the home to many backsides. This is addition to the second home that the short one serves for Jamie. At the end of it, you might as well be sitting on the ground. So this group spent time reinforcing those couches and extending their lifetime for more volunteers to enjoy. The other group spent some time in the staffhouse. We had been noticing that our tile floor was recently sarting to resemble a mosaic that seemed to grow by the day. We had the girls help take up the tile in the front and common rooms.


As the girls embraced focusing on the tasks at hand and really made strides in their awareness of the moment, the weather seemed to reflect their progress. Where the day before they had been clouded by their worries concerning the future, this day they were able to clear that out of their minds and see the value in what they were doing. The weather, having been convinced that the girls were learning, relented and broke, allowing the girls to take their new found appreciation of being present into the wider community. Watching the concordant progress of the girls and the storm was really special and an example to me of the presence of God in the week.


I would be remiss if, at this point, I didn't mention the actions of the 3 chaperones that came with AHS. We always have daily meetings with the leaders/ chaperones of the groups. These are partly to inform them of what's happening that particular day. More importantly, they are a forum for the leadres to voice any concerns they have with the week as it's running. When we met on that second morning, the leaders expressed that they were worried about the progression of the storm. They, too, had noticed some of the girls having trouble with being stuck and were bringing it to our attention. They wanted to know about how long we could be expect to be stuck on the Farm and listened as we explained the situation with the plows and the the hills. They brainstormed with us to come up with activities for the girls to do while they were here. It was fantastic. I say that with 100% sincerity. It was a perfect example of being proactive leaders. Too many times when we hear someone say that they welcome feedback and want to hear concerns we read into it and assume they are saying that only as a formality. They just want us to rubber stamp what they do, we think. Instead of offering constructive criticism, we stay silent, sompiling a mental checklist of all the shortcomings, which we reveal after the fact. Here, it's akin to having a smooth week only to find out, come evaluation time, that there were a lot of problems. It was so gratifying to hear these leaders bring their concerns to the forefront in a thoughtful, helpful manner. It didn't come across as an attack on the program or the 3 of us. Instead, we could see that they were legitimately concerned first for their students. The meeting made what could have been a stressful situation seem less like an obstacle and more like an opportunity.

Thanks to the proactivity of the leaders, the rest of the week went smoothly. The groups had fun at the clothing pantry finding all sorts of wacky outfits. They were also able to wrangle (get it??) up a figurine of a hermaphraditic cow (essentially a bull that for some reason, had udders). On a completely depressing note, they were able to make me feel super old. One of the girls found a small puffy orange vest. As she held it up I quipped, "Looks like Marty Mcfly's mom decided to donate his childhood wardrobe to Lewis County". Nothing. Completely blank stares. I said "C'mon, Back to the Future... Michael J Fox..." Someone said "Oh, the guy from the LFO song?" If you recall, the lyrical geniuses behind Summer Girls (that's right, this blog just linked an LFO song. And you wonder why I never post) tossed in this gem: "Fell deep in love,but now we ain't speaking/Michael J Fox was Alex P Keaton". I'm sure the man suffering with Parkinson's rests easy knowing that his legacy is as a footnote in a terrible pop song. I promptly blacked out. I don't know what the kids are learning in school these days but it's definitely not what they need to be learning. Unreal. Even more depressing was the fact that one of their chaperones, Angela, informed me that we are a mere 5 years away from the year that Marty McFly went into the Future in the second installment (2015). Ugh. Seeing as how my Back to the Future references are reaching critical mass, I better wrap this up.

Despite cosntant reminders of my rapidly dwindling youth, the week was a good one filled with challenges overcome, laughs, and a lot of service done. Oh, and snow. Lots and lots of snow.