This past weekend, I was sifting and scrolling through photos, and a picture (shown above) stopped me. At first glance, it’s a striking view of the farm from overhead—the fields, the barns, the farmhouse at the center—framed in the beauty of our labor.
But when I look at it, I don’t just see land and structures. I see my family, living life in that old (and surprisingly tiny on the inside) farmhouse, surrounded by a work we love and a mission we’re proud of—larger than any one of us—and it has given us the ability to see Providence and to know true community and connection.
But inside that farmhouse, filled with Joneses, are hearts carrying pain, sickness, hardship, and trial. Yet every day, from the youngest to the oldest (not me!), I watch each one step out of that house seeking to turn up the song in their heart. There’s a resilience I’ve seen in my children, in Chris, and even in myself—the ability to walk through the door after being curled up under the weight of trial or sadness, and then to grin at the ducks marching by in a perfect line, or the kittens snuggled together on the porch, or for me, a double-bloom dahlia or a sunflower turning its full face toward me.
Even as we sustain grief, trial, sickness, and hardship, there’s an energy that rises up to give strength for the task at hand—whether it’s getting ready for Thursday, preparing for a Saturday event, or simply harvesting something fresh for our table. There is a song we seek, and a song that is given to each of us, daily.
The great violinist Paganini once discovered, just as he stepped on stage, that his prized violin had been stolen and replaced with a worn, second-hand instrument. After a pause, he told the audience: “The music is not in the instrument, but in the soul.” And with passion, he played as never before, proving the truth of his words.
So it is with us. Life may hand us broken tools, hard circumstances, or unexpected losses. Yet:
“It is your mission, tested and tried one, to walk out on the stage of this world and reveal to all the earth and heaven that the music is not in conditions, not in the things, not in externals, but the music of life is in your own soul.”
— Streams in the Desert, contribution by Charles Francis Richardson
Don’t lose your song. And if you don’t have one—ask, seek, and you will find… It’s as near as the step out your front door.
Until next time,
Mrs. Farmer Jones, Locovore Farms