Shifting Gears

Sometimes the hardest thing in the world to do is the one thing you know you have to do. Take that relationship you are in for example. Somewhere deep down between your spleen and your liver it simply doesn't feel right. But there are so many other reasons why it does. You hope and pray, you give it time, you do everything right, everything you can think of in hopes that it will turn out to be the fairy tale you want more than anything...but you know it's not. 

You know they are wrong for you. It doesn't matter that 96.8% of them is everything you can imagine wanting in a person. It doesn't even matter that there are those little extras that you've grown to love that you are certain no other person on the planet will ever possess, the underlying fact remains. As sad as it may be, that 3.2% that's missing is what you need more than all the rest. But maybe they will change...or maybe you can change. It's a nice thought and it's one that we all want to hold on to like a life preserver in a stormy sea. But truth be told...well, you already know the truth. 

You're afraid to let go of them because right now they are the only thing keeping your head above the waves.  You're alone and scared and want nothing more than that feeling of security and familiarity you have with them. To let go would mean risking it all, because God only knows when or if someone else will come floating along. For all you know they may never come and you will be left to contend with it all--the struggles, fears, doubts, and challenges--while you're drained, empty, exhausted, cold...and very much alone. You want nothing more than to face it with someone...with them. But you still know what you have to do.

Perhaps though, it isn't a relationship with a person that you're dealing with. Right now you may find yourself in a weird place in life. You had a dream and you went for it. You threw yourself at it and jumped in with both feet and now find yourself alone in the sea and you're sinking. This dream you believed in didn't work out and is now slowly dragging you down. It's sucking the energy and life from you. And just like that relationship, you know you have to get away from it. Only trouble is you don't want to; you aren't ready to give up. You tell yourself to give it more time, that it will get better. The question is, is it really worth it? Will the end result ultimately outweigh what you're giving up? Like usual, it is hard to tell.

If you haven't guessed, I'm currently living both of these situations. 

For a while there I had this incredible girl in my life. She's no longer a part of my life, but in my mind she is. I can't really say she broke up with me because we were never "officially" dating...but we pretty much were. For seven months we did everything a couple would except kiss. We talked on the phone every night, texted all day long, watched movies together any time we could, went on walks. But we were just friends. Clearly there was more to it than that, and we both knew it, we'd talked about it. As time went on things kept getting better. 

As they say, "all good things must come to an end," and our relationship was was no different. A part of me was relieved it was over, because deep down inside me I had always known she wasn't right for me. She has a very strong, dominant personality. She wasn't the sensitive and calming person I feel like I need. Not that she wasn't a caring and kind person, but for whatever reason there were things I needed that she couldn't give. And on the flip-side there were things she needed that I couldn't give. 

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her. I don't think I can go a single hour without something reminding me of her and what we use to have. I miss her so much. I miss all the little things about her that always end up stealing your heart. I miss her eyes and her smile. I miss her smell. I miss her laugh and our nightly phone conversations. I miss having someone to text all day long. I miss her asking me what I'm doing. I miss having her clean my fingernails and pluck my eyebrows. I miss going on walks with her. I miss having her tell me about her day. I miss watching movies with her, and I miss how after every movie we watched she'd ask me what my favorite part was. I miss making dump cake with her, and washing the dishes with her. I miss texting her late into the night until I fall asleep, and I miss the Good Morning! texts. 

But she's gone now. As I look back now I can't help but remember all the good feelings and happy times I had with her. But when I really think about it I can remember all the uneasy feelings I felt also. In a way I was never able to completely feel at ease with her. But that doesn't make me miss her any less.

The other situation is where I now live. I'm living on my family's old family farm. Over the years it's been allowed to fall apart. Buildings are slowly collapsing, trees have grown up everywhere, junk and cars and equipment have accumulated. It's an embarrassing mess. My dream is to clean it up and make it look nice and respectable again, but I can't do it on my own. The two uncles that still work out of there have no real interest on helping clean up there junk. So I've come to a point where I have to decide if it is worth sticking around and busting my butt to clean up after everyone or if I should give up and spend my energy on building my own life somewhere else. 

I know I need to because I can feel it slowly draining me of what little confidence I use to have. I live in a dump, in a house in desperate need of repair, and I'm alone most of the time. My social skills are fading, and they weren't that great to begin with. I need to get away from it but I don't want to give up because it has been my life long dream to live on a farm and do the things that go along with that. This very well might be my only chance to live this kind of life, so I'm not wanting to admit defeat and give up. Inside, though, I know what I need to do.

I think I'm going to end there for now. I'm getting tired of writing and I'm losing the focus I started out with (you can probably tell). But don't worry, there will be more later. I'm sure you are all already holding your breath.

The Sad Goodbye

The word "bittersweet" pretty well sums up how I've been feeling the past two weeks. I'm excited and ready to move on to new things, but the desire to stay here with the people I've grown to love is making it hard to leave.

I don't have a lot of friends to say goodbye to. In fact there are no more than five that I do anything with on a remotely regular basis. This doesn't bother me; I kind of prefer it that way, but there are still many others I'm having a hard time telling goodbye. There is one, though, that stands out above the rest. Her name is Lacy.

Lacy and I have worked at the same store for exactly one year now. I still hardly know her, but over this past month we've begun talking and have developed something that could maybe pass as a friendship. The thing that makes this unique is that Lacy is a pretty girl. I've always had a hard time talking to pretty girls, but with her it wasn't that hard. She was fun to talk to and in the beginning it came pretty easy.

As time went by I started liking her, and I think she liked me too. I wanted to get to know her better but I knew I would soon be leaving, so I was afraid to get any closer to her. When the day came for me to put in my two weeks notice I knew I needed to tell her. When I did I could see the shock of sadness hit her face. She tried to hide it, and she did a good job. But it was there nonetheless. And when my last day rolled around I could hear a hint of sadness in her voice.

It killed me to know I was hurting her, even if was only a little bit. I hate leaving just as I was beginning to get to know her. It's unlikely anything would have come from it, but I still wish I knew her more.

The End and the Beginning

For the past two months I have been talking to my uncle about the details of me coming to work for him on the farm. Finally the arrangements have been made and the date is set. As of now it looks like the last day of February will be my final day here in what has become my home. But I'm not too sad about leaving because in addition to leaving home, I'll be going home.

Since I was a little boy I've been going to the farm for holidays and visits, but every time I would inevitably have to leave, and as I did it would be with a heavy-heart, because I really didn't want to. I loved it there, I wanted to stay there. But now I'll be going there to stay. I'm sure it won't feel just as it did when I was five because I won't just be exploring, but I'll be working. My time will probably be filled with work. But the work won't be for some boss that hardly knows me, and cares about me even less. It'll be for my family and with my family, and it will be work that I expect I will enjoy. Instead of being confined to a retail store where I have to deal with the general public answering their questions and helping them find things, I will be working with my hands, driving equipment, and learning how to tear them apart to repair them.

The more I think about it the more excited and eager I become. Some nights I lie awake for hours thinking about how it might all turn out. On paper it looks and sounds so good. But then on the other hand, I also wonder about why it might not turn out like I hope. Maybe the work I think I will like will quickly turn into a dull routine. Maybe I'll find that all the things I thought I didn't like about where I now live were better than I realized, and I was only taking what I had for granted. Or perhaps the age difference between me and my uncles will make it hard for us to relate and it will still feel like I'm working for someone who hardly knows me.

To be honest, I’m scared. The seeds of doubt are in my mind. But in addition to the doubt there is hope. If nothing else, I’m hopeful that somehow it will all work out in the end. Even if I do find that it is all just one more thing I’m not meant to do, then so be it, because if that is the case then it was worth it.

Youthful Innocence

So the little kids at church have been putting together a bell choir. I did not know this, but I haven't been to church for so long that I wouldn't have known that. Before they started I figured it would be a pretty bad performance. Considering who some of the kids are my assessment wasn't far off. Let's just say that many of them live in a world of their own. But when the first note played I was blown away. It was a Christmas theme today, and so they played Christmas songs along to some music being played on a CD. What I'm trying to say is it was wonderful. As I watched them, shaking those bells with all their childish enthusiasm, it nearly brought me to tears. They were so young and innocent standing there. They didn't have a care in the world. It's hard to believe that I was once like them. I think what bothered me the most was knowing that they would soon grow up to be like me. They will grow up and be faced with the temptations of the world. They will lose that sweet innocence. I don't want them to do the things I've done. I don't want them to struggle like I have with some of the sins of the world. But I can't stop it. It's just a part of growing up. They can't stay young forever, I know that, but I still wish that they could live a life only filled with happiness.

As just as a little aside, I know this post doesn't flow really well, and it probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's how I feel right now, and I don't want to go back and spend an hour trying to make it sound nice. So this is what you get.

On the Verge

It's Thanksgiving today, but most of you probably know that. Tonight, as I write this, I'm sitting in my grandma's house, not even half a mile from the farm that has suddenly taken center stage in my life.

It's good to be back; it's good to be here. Much of my family is around me, and we are recovering from our first Thanksgiving together in the past ten years. We're not a very lively bunch, but it doesn't matter, they're still my family. To be honest, it feels a little odd being together again after such a long time. It might never have the same feel as it did when I was a kid, because, let's face it, I'm not a kid anymore. Things have changed, we've changed, I've changed.

Tonight I went over to look at the farm that might very well be my entire future. It's an eye-sore still, that hasn't changed. But maybe it is something I will be able to change in the future. The amount of work it will take to make it look the way it looks in my mind is daunting, but to be positive, just getting rid of all the junk and cutting down the weeds will do wonders for its appearance. I would have taken pictures to post on here for you, but I don't have any batteries for my camera. So it'll have to wait.

The idea of moving back excites me. I don't show it, but by my standards I'm excited. I talked to my uncles a little bit about it, and they wish I was already here. Things seem to look good right now. I only hope the future brings that same feeling.

The Farm (continued)

So it's uncertain what will happen to the farm down the road. If my dad hadn't died, I can almost bet I would still be right there with him on that farm. If he hadn't died I would naturally be the one to take it over. But things changed.

My mom remarried and our family moved to Missouri. But that's never stopped me from looking back and wondering how things would have turned out if my dad was still here.
My future would have pretty much been set, but my life would be so much different than it is now. I would have grown up with a much stronger sense of family around me, but I would have missed meeting some of the most amazing people I've ever known. I wouldn't have received the religious foundation I have now, and there's no telling what I kind of person I would be (morally) if I'd stayed there in Illinois. So it's really a toss up between a blessing and a curse that my dad is no longer here. It certainly changed my life, but whether that change was for the better or worse is still undecided.

But about a month ago, fate took an unexpected turn. My mom and sister went up to Michigan for my cousin's wedding. I had to stay home and work. As it turns out most of my family was there. Apparently my mom had a great time, because when she got home she sat me down and, for two hours, tried to explain how she thought I needed to move back and begin working with my uncles on the farm, that that would have been my life if my dad hadn't died, and there is no reason why it still can't be my life now.

(to be continued)

The Farm

Sitting on roughly 250 acres, back home where I come from, is what I like to call the farm. The farm is where my dad and his five brothers grew up. The farm is where me and my cousins did a lot of growing up. The farm was where all our family gatherings were. The farm was happiness; the farm was fun. For more reasons than one, the farm has only meant good memories. And to my little child's brain the farm was like heaven.

I don't know exactly when it was started, or exactly who started it, but I do know it has been around for at least four generations. It's what they call a centennial farm--meaning the same family has owned it for over 100 years. It's a piece of history, and it belongs to my family.

Back in it's glory years it was an honest-to-God, functioning farm. By this I mean it had animals, and it raised cash crops. I can only imagine what it looked like then. I'm told that my great grandpa had a hired hand that maintained the place. Sadly, this is was contributed to its downfall. Because the hired hand did everything to take care of the place, my grandpa and his brother were never really taught to take care of it--so they didn't. For a while after my grandpa inherited it I'm sure it looked like it should have looked. But I don't know how long that lasted.

As long as I can remember, the farm has looked like it does now--a junkyard. Over the years my two uncles that still live in the area have brought old machines, cars, buses, trucks, tractors, and all other manner of crap onto the place and left it there. Take five steps in any direction and you'll probably run into an old engine or some other piece of machinery. It tears me up to see what has happened to the farm.

About a month ago my sister and I drove up there for the weekend to see old friends, and to visit with family. For most of the drive I took the back roads through the rural parts of Missouri (where I live now). The only feeling I remember having during the trip was that I was going home. And as we drove, we were constantly passing these farms. And there were so many nice ones--grass mowed, buildings painted, no junk. They were beautiful, and then I thought of what my family's farm looks like. It's a disgrace, plain and simple. But I can't help but dream about what it used to look like, and about what it could look like.

After my dad and uncles grew up, several of them moved away. But my dad and his two younger brothers stayed. My mom tells me my dad did most of the farming after that. He never planned on leaving. He loved it there, and all he wanted to do was farm that farm. But those weren't God's plans for him. He died from cancer in November of 1997, two months after my grandpa also died from cancer. That was a hard year for the family. Nothing was ever the same after that. Whereas before the farm had at least some sort of future, whatever that future was died with my father. Two of my uncles still live right next to the farm, but only one really does the farming, and neither one of them have kids.