Dairy Sale

I have been contemplating, for months now, about how and what to share regarding my feelings of the recent dairy cow auction my parents had. For those of you who don't know, or have forgotten, we currently live in the same home I grew up in. My family moved here when I was around 10 months old. Ever since that day, I have known this place as nothing but a working dairy farm, with a constant buzz of activity. Certainly, things have changed over the years...whether it be the number of buildings, the color of the cows, or who was hired to help. One thing that has never changed though, until recently, is the constant movement of someone or something.

Due to the severe drought of the summer of 2011 and lack of forage for the winter, it became necessary for my parents to sell the majority of the dairy cattle this fall. (They still have some left, as well as beef cattle and sheep.) It took several months of preparation to be ready for the big day. The big day came and went and we were all left with our different feelings. My own feelings coming as a bit of a surprise to myself, I decided to write them down. After much thought, I'm choosing to share them here. Perhaps you might gain a new insight into who I am, and where I come from. If nothing else, I just want to have a record of this time.

So, here it is. Consider it an open letter to myself....written October 30, 2011

I was completely unprepared for how the sale would affect me. I had a misconception that because not all of the cattle would be leaving, it wouldn't be so hard. Sometimes when the tears just continue to fall out of no where... I wonder why?

Why is it so hard?

What are these feelings?

I know I am grieving the loss of what has been the second longest standing constant in my life. The first being the love of Momma and Daddy.

I wonder why it hurts so bad when it isn't completely over? There are still cows to milk, calves to bottle, chores to be done.

The view has changed though.

The sounds have changed. Suddenly, the bawling of a calf grabs my attention. Before, I took it for granted.

The tractor doesn't buzz by nearly as often. The hum of the dairy barn doesn't last nearly as long.

Pens, lots and pastures across the landscape stand empty.

The lump wells in my throat....

Then come the "what ifs" and "why didn'ts."

What if I had been more involved personally?

Why didn't I involve and expect more of our children? We want them to grow up in this environment and learn the value of hard work, even if their futures take them elsewhere.

Maybe a part of what I feel is opportunity lost. On the other hand, perhaps it is opportunity found in both a wake up call for me, and paring down to manageable size?

All I know is, I don't want to see it all wasted. All the blood, sweat and tears are far too valuable for it to stay unused. Life in some form must return.

What is my role and how can it be used to shape three young boys to serve in God's Kingdom?

My feelings are certainly not limited to present day involvement. So much of what plays through my head is straight from the song "Precious Memories."

"Precious Father, Loving Mother, fly across the lonely years. And old home scenes of my childhood, in fond memory appear."

So although, it isn't completely over, it is still the beginning of the end of an era, regardless of what happens from here. I'm thankful for the journey and have great hopes for the future.