Refuge Farms (www.refugefarms.org)

It’s been a tough week.

Way too many times this week I have told people now in my life about how, in my professional career – my previous life – my performance reviews would contain the words “bull in a china shop” to describe my style of productivity. And those reviews were right on target. I was a bull – getting the job done.

That style earned me a career and a reputation as the one to look to for crisis resolution and big project development. And not the typical projects that some of the managers were awarded. No, this bull was given the 60 man-month project with a $5 million dollar budget – and a whole 18 months to get it done! And, oh yeah, we don’t have $5 million, either.

That bull has mellowed some in her years of wisdom, but I am keenly aware that in times of stress and crisis, she comes right to the front again. On the receiving end, I know it feels like I’m barking. And that’s because I am. I point a lot. I use few words. My face changes. And the decisions come almost instantaneously. “It” all becomes so obvious to me and I am sometimes frustrated that others cannot see it so clearly as me! And the adrenaline! It is flowing like the Mississippi River! And woe to the one who stops the whole process to ask a simple question!

I work really hard to keep the bull in a big, strong, padlocked pen. I work very hard at that. But she appears when I least expect her and when I am least able to corral her again. When I am tired. And stressed. And overloaded. Then, at the least opportune time, the bull appears and I hurt someone with my style and my words. Hurt that I never intended to give. But hurt that I give nonetheless. Hurt that comes from the bull in a china shop dealing with what is a crisis at the time.

And the heat. That infernal heat and humidity continued this week and has taken it’s toll on me and The Herd.

The Herd has spent most of the week standing in the barn in the breezes generated by our new big barn fans purchased with our 4th Annual Antique & Garage Sale earnings. What a gift those fans have turned out to be! That metal barn actually turns in to a roaster by noon on those blistery hot days. You know, the kind of roaster we all use at Thanksgiving time? Well, that’s our pole barn when the sun is hot, the air is heavy, and the wind is somewhere other than on this hill.

Those fans at least keep air moving and that will keep The Herd safe. But it means more blue barrels of water in the barn to be emptied, cleaned, and refilled every day. It means more wheelbarrows of manure every day. Bless their hearts, they still don’t hear me when I ask them just to run outside long enough to poop, please! They look at me and tell me that “it’s hot out there and there are flies out there and why go outside, Mama? When you’ll clean it up in here anyhow?” Now you can’t fight that logic, can you?

Chores this week usually started at 4am when it was still dark and damp and before the flies awakened. Morning feeds were quiet except for the noise of the fan motors. Everyone was a bit weary that another hot one was in front of us. I did my best to prepare them with salve on their bites, bug spray on the weakest points, fly masks, and pitching hay from the round bales in to the barn for those who would spend the day in stalls.

I ran home from work at lunch time to open some doors now that the sun had moved and close other doors to prevent the afternoon sun from pouring in. Big Lanna would come in the barn and I would settle her in for the afternoon. Two wheelbarrows of their deposits would be picked up and spray and salves rechecked and applied, if needed. Then a quick shower and back to work for the afternoon.

Evening routines began at 9:30 or 10pm – whenever they felt it was cool enough and safe enough to venture out for the night. That meant some short nights and times when I would tell Little Man that we had just left the barn and here we were right back in it again. Little Man’s response? Wag, wag, wag. And then he would move to his favorite resting spot while he patiently waited for me to finish.

And then there was the bridge. Minneapolis has made the international news this week. And not for a good thing. Because a bridge collapsed and caused death and missing people. People who were just going home from work or delivering their products or on vacation in a rented car. Just ordinary people moving around and WHAM! Your life changes or is gone forever.

More than anything this week, that bridge has put an edge on all of us. Any one of us could have been on that bridge. Any one of us could have been caught up in the mess of wire and concrete and muddy water and burning fuel. And any one of us could have had family or friends on that bridge. It took me three days, but I found a co-worker from Target Stores. I knew she used that bridge to head home to her family and when I couldn’t find her, it took all I had not to go down there. To stand next to that bridge and call to her over the water. I did find her, eventually, through her Mom. She’s on vacation this week! Thank you, Lord.

So it’s been a hard week. The bull in a china shop, the heat, and the bridge. But just this morning, I stood in the barn and pondered a few things. My natural instincts were followed and I ended up standing next to Miss April while she ate. I needed to apologize to her – the bull had been in her face this week. She had taken it well but her eyes showed me her shock and her disbelief. And the start of her mistrust. I’ve left her alone for a few days – let her mull it over. And let her watch me and see the “normal” caretaker return. And so this morning, I tested the waters and reached out to rub her face and clean her eyes and then to wrap my arms around her.

Miss April did exactly what I had prayed she would do. She forgave me and rested her head on my shoulder until I couldn’t hold the weight anymore. She knows and she accepts me, bull and all.

And so to those of you who have been in a too small room with that bull this week, I gingerly am walking up to you, too. Putting out my hand and maybe asking for a hug. Testing the waters to see if you, too, can forgive me. And accept me, bull and all.

To the rest of you, I offer a note from a young lady who recently visited us here at THE FARM on her birthday. Her words are so poignant. And so I must share them with you:

Dear Wonderful and Kind People who volunteer their time to help THE FARM:

Thank you so much for the wonderful tour I was given. I loved it! It was the best birthday present! I was so inspired that when I’m old enough I would like to volunteer there, too! I think it’s wonderful that you help save these horses in need. My favorite horse was Big Guy! It was so touching. Now I know what I want to do in life. I want to save horses. Build a farm of my own. I can’t tell you how much fun I had!

Deeply thankful,
Hannah

Thank you, Hannah. Your gift to all of us is your heart and your innocence and your words. Words to show us all the impact we have on young hearts and minds like your own. And words to remind us – even the bull in the china shop – that good is done every day. Even on the tough days.

Enjoy the journey of each and every day,
Sandy and The Herd