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.

The Winds of Change

It's been a while since I've written anything. I just wanted to give a quick update of what has changed in my life recently before going to bed. To get right to it, it looks like I will be moving back to where I came from to try and save my family's farm. At first the idea kind of scared me, even though it's something I've secretly wanted to do for many years, but the more I talk about it with my mom the more I want to do it. I talked with her today about it and I think I'd leave next week if I could.

I'll be writing more about this later on, so that's all for now.