There are days when I find myself bemused by the wicked sense of humor the Universe can show me from time to time.
"Hey!" It bellows from the heavens, lobbing It's celestial curve-ball at me, "catch THIS!"
"This" turns out to be shaped like a wrench. With a monkey attached.
Stretching out, I grasp for the unexpected missile. On this day, I manage to catch the end of it as it sails past my head, grappling with the monkey-wrench, trying to gain a purchase on the stinker. Finally it comes to rest in my hands. I look at it with disgust. Over the years, I've wondered if there's a monkey-wrench limit in the Transcendental General Assembly's Rules and Regulations.
Starting a farm- or anything with challenges, for that matter- is a daily hopscotch of ups and downs, punctuated with some slippery sideways maneuvers- and we're just getting started, even going into our fourth year. Compared to most farmers, things are easy. Our year-round livestock consist of fish and honeybees. There's only so much trouble they can get into. There are no large animals to be up all night with, wrestling with mastitis, colic, or messy, complicated births.
Regardless of the simple nature of our farm status, however, we still struggle. Issues and problems I never thought existed pop up continually. The 2-year timeline of building the farmhouse and barn, installing permanent fencing, establishing breeding animals and large plots of reliably producing fruit trees, has stretched to almost 5. In short, life is getting in the way of carefully laid plans, so much so that at times, it's painful.
I suppose that stale cookie is the most powerful ammunition against succumbing to the potency of the monkey-wrench. The stale cookie does crumble. But the world continues to turn. Children are born, cakes are baked, dreams are realized.
I look at the loathsome monkey-wrench in my hands, then down at the pile of cookie crumbs at my feet. Closing my eyes, I reach into the depths of my soul, calling on the vitality that lives there, asking that spirit to help me transform the monkey-wrench into something more manageable...like a stale cookie.
"Thanks for that, Great Spirit." I say with a sigh. "That was just you reminding me that everything has a purpose and any obstacle is surmountable...especially with faith and a sense of humor."