Last evening, I was typing while my dear husband dictated his autobiography. (A requirement by the agency before we can become foster parents.) When Randy got to the place in his life where his Dad sold 346 acres of his farm, I cried right along with him as he retold the story:
"...The thing that changed my life the most out of any other event was the day our neighbor came to visit. He owned the adjacent farm and just happened to stop by at the one vulnerable time most perfect for his cause. My Dad, who was once again laid-off, although this was the final time he was laid-off, nonetheless was out of money so we sold off all but four acres, the house and the barn.
I spent the next thirty years angry and hurt in a delusional quest more subliminally driven than thought, but a quest nonetheless to 'buy back' the land I’d loved so dearly..."
Randy was a teen when this life-changing event occurred. No longer would he have the freedom to roam the land, or the space to raise his animals. But it was more than that --he had to let go of a dream that day. I know that in his heart, he would love to own the land that his father once owned.
After listening to my husband talk last night, I understand so much better why he spends hours on his John Deere tractor, digging holes and planting trees on our 14 acre property. I believe that a part of him, whether he would admit to it or not, is trying to recreate that woodland farm of his youth. In his mind he may be trying to go back to the simplier days before he was responsible for caring for a family and earning the money to pay the bills. When life was less complicated. When his biggest concern was perhaps whether he would have a good day selling eggs from his chickens, or if he would be able to put back together whatever small piece of machinery he had chosen to take apart.
We hold on to many things in life and as we get older, I think that the realization of all the "letting go" that we've had to do is more difficult than the actual "letting go" itself. You know that saying, "You don't know what you have until it's gone." May we appreciate and cherish each person, each home, each thing with which the Lord has blessed us. For we never know when someone will sell the farm.
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