a little flame

One week ago today, my son's house burnt down.  Every thing lost.  I had the option to fly out to Illinois immediately, to swoop in as I am apt to do- just for support, just to hug him and let him know I was there ready to take charge.  My eldest daughter Emma reasoned that it would be better if I stayed the course here, come home on my scheduled trip later and use the money I would have spent on the ticket- to purchase some things that Mathew might need in the long and short run.  I wired her the money and she replaced his cell phone, activated it, called me on it so I'd have the number.  Hopefully now his friends can call him, and Mathew and I have certainly burnt up the wires a time or two since he can communicate again.

It has been a difficult test for him, for me.  Thankfully he was not home when an electrical short began to burn all that he had acquired in his almost twenty one years.  And thankful too, for the outpouring of love and kindness sent his way by the local folks there in Williamsville.  Mathew was the first to arrive at what use to be his home.  He could do nothing more than save the dogs and watch it burn.

"It is what it is."  His thoughts on watching it, knowing there was nothing he could do but stand there as it slowly unfolded, the fire and flames.

I have tried to put myself in his shoes, have tried to see with his eyes, feel with his heart.  I cannot.  I can only imagine what it might feel like to lose things one holds dear by no act of your own, but by a natural force.  He's been through too much for such a young man, and yet- it is what it is.  He shows signs of sadness of course...but also- such courage.  Such stand-upedness, take it on the chin and keep standing.  I hate with all my heart, these occurrences.  I pray his spirit remains intact.  I strongly disagree silently- the things that have been said to him, that he relays, that I have read...it breaks my heart and perhaps his too, when people think with their head too much in times like these.  When they say-

"God opens a window when he closes a door...."
"God has a plan...."

I do not disagree with the sentiment, but if only one might stand there in his shoes, realize that right now- it just might feel more like a kick in the teeth or lower extremities.  See, when you're standing in an elevated place, what purpose does it serve to look down from that safe distance and offer a head shot instead of a heart thought?!

This young man has been baptized by fire all his life- his character rich, his spirit iron clad.  But that doesn't make him or anyone else in a position of great vulnerability any more able to perceive the unfolding lessons that may come from disaster.  It'll take time for him to come around to faith again, little by little- he'll get there.
God may move in mysterious ways, but in times of great suffering- it truly makes little sense to interpret the signs for one who has been momentarily blindsided.  And that's my lesson in all of this.  I cannot know the inside workings of someone's heart, the low down demons praying on their last frazzled nerve.  I have to learn to acknowledge first the burden before I can offer any kind of pardon.

In ending, Mathew is doing well with the circumstances.  He has good friends, a loving family, a job and youth on his side.  He's alive.  He has still such wonders to discover, some that just may come from the ashes, maybe when the smoke clears his level of empathy, a boundless compassion may arise for others deeply, sincerely from the low down places he has found himself in.   And found in himself, a complete and unwavering faith...I do not wish that for him.  What a terrific burden, to look at the despair in someone else's sadness, to sink into the depths in order to raise someone back up. Everything within me says please, not that.  Just let him be, let him grow- safe and in sunshine.  But that's not how it works, is it?  Life is so unfair and so fair.  What doesn't kill us, kicks us.  What doesn't heal us, hurts us.  The only thing left standing, left smoldering- is a little flame.  My hope for him, for all of us- no matter what life throws at us, it never diminishes our fire.  Mathew Martin Earl Fowler amazes me...that little spark within him just keeps glowing and glowing.  I don't see how, I don't know why- but it is so.

Mathew walking through the fog

slow to burn, quick to ignite

Actually, the sign should say- Manure Combusts.

Let me explain...

I've used this pic before, but it is so apt for today's post. Manure happens- yes indeed it does and I have the utmost respect today for it's... shall we say, ignitive personality. Sunday found me full of excitement for more mushrooms and sunshine and hanging the laundry out on the line and getting all that done by noon so I could shower up and head to the local winery with some friends for some hillside dancing, laughing and making merry. After that, I was to go fishing at a friends house on the lake in the evening, with a quiet meal.

As I was making my rounds on the farm, inspecting all the beautiful buds, feeding the flocks and generally just enjoying the moment with the strong breeze picking up- I noticed smoke columns coming from the back of the farm. What the heck?! Flip flop footed, I made my way as quickly as I could to the source of the mysterious flare up. The composted manure piles were ablaze! There in the first mound was an ever glowing flame coming from a crater in the middle. Without thinking, and this became painfully obvious within a few minutes- I crawled to the top of the pile, and fell through like I was in quick sand. Only then did I realize what fire dancers must come to acknowledge on their walks of faith across hot coals- my feet were burning! How I leapt out of there, flew up and out actually- is a mystery to me still, both of my flip flops came off, or were melted off actually. I ended up on my rear end, out in the grass exclaiming- "OH God!" With just one tiny injury to one tiny toe- the inside of the compost was molten like a good fired charcoal bed. I'd say I was merely cooked medium rare- but my shoes were definitely well done. And, the breeze was picking up- the weather man was forecasting 40 mile an hour winds. Oh brother! Oh bother! Oh manure happens all to often when least expected!

I called local farmer Richard, who has horses along with spontaneous combustive manure piles, I'd heard him tell of flare ups in the intense heat of the summer. "What do I do Richard?!" "To be on the safe side, you're going to have to soak those piles down or call the volunteer fire department." "Oh, I couldn't do that, it's Sunday- I don't want to bother anybody." "Then get on it girl, with these winds, you could have some problems..."

The livestock well out by the old barn should be full of water (it was-25 feet full) I should have enough hoses to reach the fire from the well (I did, barely) I should be able to use my jet pump if I can get electricity out that far with electrical cords (again, barely making the stretch- the cords sufficed.) I should be able to prime the pump and kick this whole operation in gear(well, that was fun...cussing like a farmer does when faced with inoperable piece of junk machines!) Sure enough though, with tweaking and cussing, praying and begging- I did get the system up and running. And stayed with it all day, all day while the farmer across the way- now, this part does not make good sense to me- decided on a 40 mile an hour day- to disc his fields. The dirt storm (as acres of top soil left his fields) gave my day out in the sun extra grit for me to chew on, and wipe from my eyes, and make a mad dash to the house closing all the windows so the acres of dirt wouldn't end up on my freshly painted everything. Pardon me, but isn't a bit inconsiderate to your neighbors to create a dust storm with wind speeds of that magnitude? (Rain is forecast for here all week, it couldn't be to dry out the top layers, besides- they left on the wind.) Can someone explain why it's so important to plow on the windiest days, or for that matter, disperse Anhydrous on your fields on those windiest days? See, I just don't get that logic, don't they want to keep their soil and the vast amounts of money spent on those chemicals on their own fields? I for one do not like to digest, come into contact with, drink from my well wondering what the hell kind of chemical cocktail I might be consuming.

Anyway- it took all day and the entire contents of that livestock well to put the blaze out. It took my lily white shoulders from albino to lobster red before I realized that the field burnings I attended to 4 weeks ago had been slowly building, burning in the middle of the compost piles to ignite to the outside. So- RD, you were right- I should have knocked those out with the utmost certainty then. (Thought I had, no smoke for some time- I got in there like you instructed and dug and raked until I could safely press my hands through, no heat, no burn.) I guess what little burn there was left by the field burning kept the core of one of those piles alive...and just waiting for a day like yesterday to become a burning ring of fire.

The tractor is another story for another day- it's probably good that I didn't fix her completely. After the tire change and thermostat repair, hydraulic fluid change, hose replacing, charging battery, getting her all fired up and purring like an old 60 year old tractor should, it is just as well that I didn't get the hydraulics to kick in properly. I would have been real hard to live with if I had actually accomplished lift. (But I will, come hell or high water- I'll get that tractor to function properly or I'll...hire someone to fix her, I've had it up to here with non-complying machinery, course I shouldn't expect too much from the old girl. She and I both have had alot of wear and tear as of late...

Oh I am so getting out to the woods today, out of my way and into the wild. If I don't...I may develop finger lock mode in saluting, mad at the world or maybe just me- sometimes I expect too much I guess. Or perhaps, I am as stubborn as an old flame clear down in the middle of a composted pile of manure- slow to burn though quick to ignite with the right conditions.

Thanks for giving a darn, laughing, smiling and wishing me well on my mushrooming...take care!

of the fire

Today is the first day of the rest of my life, and my full time vocation begins once again on the farm. I slept in a little today, and when I finally did get up, I found myself very thoughtful...reflective. Yesterday was my last full day at the restaurant until mid September, we weren't terribly busy...which made the day seem to drag on. Some of my favorite customers made the trip in this week to bid me good luck in the farm marketing venture, I was really touched. I've grown to know and love some folks that I would not have encountered had I not strapped the apron on and served them. I found myself becoming especially fond of the older folks, the wise ones, the experiences they shared with me were like lessons on life that I could not have found in a book. So many older couples, holding hands, looking out for one another- steadying the walker of their mate so they could maneuver through the mismatched tables and old chairs in the dining rooms. I loved to serve them pie...one plate and two forks. And the happiest of the lot always looked to the other soul across the table and asked, "What sounds good to you dear?" And almost always, the other would answer, "Well, cherry pie is your favorite, let's try that!" I would often ask what it took to sustain such a long and loving relationship. Often the answer from the male was, "I just do what she tells me!" And then the lady would offer a laugh, answering back, "That's right mister!" Loved to see their hands on top of one another, touching, gesturing with fingers- affirmations, secret signals of devotion to one another's happiness. I will miss my old folks, these sights for sore eyes and spirit...yep.
I had the honor to meet two old gentleman yesterday, brothers-the eldest, 94, the younger one-90. Oh the stories these two could tell- brothers raised on a farm just West of Elkhart, one stayed on- farming, the other off to the great world, teaching. They reminisced about the World's Fair in Chicago-1933. The younger brother recalled taking the train up with his father, to deliver cattle and take in a bit of this great happening. I knew a bit about this particular fair because my own grandmother's father had gone and brought her back a doll...one which I still have. I learned from watching a documentary on PBS, how the entire world had become involved by building exhibits akin to their own countries, little towns or great monuments that said so much about their nations. Great exhibits were erected, and then torn down after the fair. How this old man's memory came alive in the telling of what his eyes saw...but mostly he tenderly treasured the memory of his dad's time with him. The other older brother recalled going to the same fair on a field trip from his university...his group had much more leisure time to spend. Two older gentleman, two different memories...still so active in their minds. I was so interested in what they were saying, I almost pulled up a chair, I don't know how long I stood there- enthralled in listening as they were in their telling. And then the both became silent as the younger one spoke of how their father tragically had died, years later. The older brother taking up where the younger one could no longer go in the telling...a fire had taken their dad, and their lives were never the same. They both spoke of the fire to follow...finding their own way, struggling to live beyond the tragedy. I was privileged to be there, to listen, to be allowed to share in this remembrance...to silently still, grieve with them. And just as suddenly as they had started in on their tale of The World's Fair, the time of the times- abruptly the older one changed the subject. He said, "Young lady, the key to a long and fruitful life- is to work hard, good physical labor never hurt anyone, keeps your bones strong. And remember, we all must go through the burn of living...all will be consumed at one time or another. The fire gets us all. It is up to us to go through, find our way." Whoa. I was floored. In his eyes, was that very important message just for me? I don't know. Only, I sure took away more than dirty dishes from that chance meeting.
On to the farm time now folks, more or less writing to come...depends on the day and the occurrences. Thought you all might enjoy the story there, as much as I did. Take care...