Idyllic Childhood
I was raised on a farm in north-central Minnesota, a beautiful area of lush green broken frequently by clear blue lakes. My parents moved here from California, before I was born, to follow where they believed God was leading them to farm. When my parents bought our place, it looked like a haunted house. It was a hundred-year-old farm house that had been abandoned, windows broken, and trespassers had built campfires in the middle of the floor. Though my dad had very little knowledge outside of books and my mom was a born city-girl, they got busy on transforming it into a working farm.
We had cows for a while, with associated crops, and pigs for a time. However, most of my "aware" years were spent growing fruits and veggies to sell in our on-farm store. After a few years, u-pick strawberries were added, and later the "truck farm" was eliminated to go all strawberries. We always had some animals on the side: goats, sheep, rabbits, chickens, but our livelihood came from the strawberries. I grew up helping --planting, watering, weeding, harvesting, and selling. Although I enjoyed interacting with customers, it gets tiring being on call to the public all the time. And the physical labor to keep up 5-8 acres or better of produce was often exhausting. We worked hard, and us kids mostly resented that. It wasn't till after I left home that I learned the value of working hard in the fresh air and sunshine with people who love you. Although a "desk job" seems easier and less worrisome (put in your time, get your paycheck -- no worries about weather wiping you out), I felt so trapped and miserable later in town life.
My family consists of my mom and dad, me-the oldest, and two younger brothers. Since I was raised in the 70s-80s, an assortment of people visited and/or stayed with us over the years. Some were relatives, others church friends or neighbors. One lady and her daughter, who were alone and struggling after a divorce (before coming to Christ), lived with us most of my girlhood. Community living was never very successful, whether at our farm or at others we visited. Left me with mixed feelings --longing for the kind of companionship and fellowship I imagine Amish women having at quilting bees, but distrustful of the irresponsibility and dissipation that is often found in these settings.
Wasted Potential
Redemption
Sanctification
