Morning Chores

I got up at 6am to go up to the farm this morning to do chores as Goat Mama is out of town. I'd not done "wake up" chores before, just "putting to bed chores," but it's about the same stuff, just in reverse sort of, without the stress of "will you PLEASE just go in the right house? PLEASE? Before it gets dark?"

I really enjoyed it. I am SOOOO not a morning person, but I liked being up and watching the sun rise over the meadow, which is lush green from all the rain we've been having. Barn swallows swooped around and even sat just right on the gate out to the goat pens, and let me walk right up to them. All was quiet, except for Darby the foster goat bleating like crazy for his milk. I just took my time and enjoyed the morning.

Even the roosters tottered off without bothering me...a nice change from last night, when the two meanies flew at me, talons bared, until I had to back out of the pen and think up a new game plan (hint: an old screen window comes in handy as a shield...).

I'll take the goats any day...

Towanda Gets Interviewed

Tess offered up a chance to be interviewed, so here are her questions for yours truly (and my answers, of course!).

What's the most beautiful city you've ever visited, and why?

Wow, hmm. My gut response is Antigua, Guatemala, which still has much of its original Spanish colonial (as in, built by the original Spanish colonists) architecture, and what is newer is built in that same style. Bougainvillea bounds abundantly over the walls and other sorts of flora are equally bountiful. The city is small, you can walk to just about anywhere you'd want to go, and there are sweet little cafes where you can sit at a little table inside the hacienda walls but still outside, by the fountain, and have a café con leche and write. And yes, I know, it is a complexity in me to be anti-colonial and yet appreciate this architecture.

With that in mind what I also like is the presence of Maya folk, especially women, still in their traditional traje and going about town. That many are impoverished and are there selling their wares to tourists in order to feed their families is problematic, I know. However, I think their presence is also a reminder that as much as the colonists, the church, and later, the Guatemalan government have tried to wipe out the Maya through colonization, conversion, assimilation and genocide, THEY ARE STILL HERE. They are still here. The empire has not won.

What made you know it was right for you to seek ordination?

Honestly, it was because I couldn't imagine doing my work in the world any other way. And believe me, I tried to talk God out of it many, many times. Word and Table are integral pieces of my understanding of how I am called to do God's work of justice.

Do you think your passion for social justice is innate,
or was it triggered by something in particular?

Nature versus nurture? Great question. I know I have an innate concern for fairness, just ask my brothers. Maybe that's from being the oldest child? But I can also point to a specific event that initiated the whole rest of this journey that's been my life ever since. I wrote about this in in my seminary application (which you can read all of here):

My first experience of transformation, my first real sense of call, came when I was 16 years old. I was attending the 1986 Presbyterian Youth Triennium; One morning, the thousands of us gathered in the large auditorium for the plenary. After being introduced, a young woman, dressed simply, came out on to the stage, accompanied by a young man. Her name was Jean Peacock, and she began to speak of her work in Tucson, Arizona, as part of the Sanctuary movement.

I had never heard of such a thing. But I sat in rapt attention as she described the plight of Central Americans fleeing to the border, escaping brutality which at that point in my young life was new to me. She spoke of civil wars in El Salvador, Guatemala, Nicaragua, of the campesinos fleeing death threats, massacres, torture, to the supposed refuge of the U.S., where they faced new struggles of entering the country illegally, traveling a new “Underground Railroad” throughout the U.S. and into Canada, to a tenuous safety. Few lucky ones were granted asylum, but strange it seemed, the U.S. officials did not believe the stories, and the vast majority were forced to live hidden lives.

When Jean introduced the young man with her, a former death squad member from El Salvador who had repented and fled the country, already my heart was pounding, and I could sense God speaking to me between the beats, urging me to listen in a way I had never listened before. What I was hearing was difficult – such tragedy, such violence, and the complicity of my own country – but I ached to know more. By the time he finished speaking, I knew that I was being called. I could not get their stories out of my head, nor my heart, nor my soul. While the kids around me were complaining that this had been a “downer” (and, interestingly, when I met Jean years later, she told me that she thought at the time that her speech had been unimpressive), I understood very clearly the voice that was now resounding in my heart: Pay attention: This is the life I am setting before you. Your life and work are going to be connected to Central America, in working for justice and for peace.

What is it about goats that makes them so lovable?

Mmm. There's this blend of intelligence and sweetness and how they just know and you can see that in their faces. I swear Arlo knows who I am, and he comes when I call and he nudges me and nibbles at me. He seems to know when I need more attention, a little more care. The first time I did evening chores all by myself, Arlo and his mama and his grandmama circled round me as I walked through the goat pens, as if showing the other goats I could be trusted.

Working with the goats has taught me that they will trust me if I treat them well -- talking to them gently, feeding them, scritching their foreheads. Trusting me doesn't always mean they behave, right Lori? But I also know that when they refuse to go to bed, that really doesn't have anything to do with me, and I just have to laugh at them 'cause they're goofy. Getting mad doesn't help. I don't have to do or be anything special, just show up and be kind.

Plus, they're just cute!! I mean, look at this face! Who wouldn't love this face??!!

If you could own any piece of baseball memorabilia in the world,
what would it be?

Anything? Really? Wow, hmm. How about one of the home plates that Jackie Robinson stole (I'm not even sure if one is extant, but I can dream)? George Brett's pine tar bat (man, that would make my brothers jealous)? A game ball from the 1985 World Series signed by all the Royals (we lived in Kansas then and followed them closely)? An original, mint condition, Ted Williams baseball card? Oh, Tess, don't get me started!


If you'd like to be interviewed by me, leave me a note in the comments!

Baby Goats!!!

Springtime is baby goat time at Westfarm! We went up yesterday to see the triplets who were born last week -- and for me to help out with chores, of course. We came into the goat yard and peeked into the first house to see this:

We began oohing and ahhing and GoatMama Lori poked her head in and said, "Hey, wait a minute! You're new!" These triplets, from mama Annie, had been born just a couple of hours before we arrived -- Lori didn't even know as she'd just gotten home herself, and Annie wasn't due til next week anyway. They are so new you can still see the fresh placenta over there on the right. 2 boys and a girl; the girl is the solid blondish one.


These are Mattie's triplets, the ones we had come up to see. Mattie is in front, Gingerbread is the doting and protective auntie in the red collar. Also 2 boys and a girl.


Lori and the girl, Robin. Lori says the goats told her all the babies should have bird names this year...


Me with Robin. Very soft!


Arlo checks in on the brand-new babies.


Part of today's chores included pouring iodine on the babys' bellybuttons to prevent infection, giving the pregnant girls (and Annie) shots to help assure their immunity passes on to their kids, and providing Annie with molasses water and extra alfafa.


Here's me with Annie's baby girl. Isn't she cute! We thought maybe her name might be Sparrow, but we're waiting to see if she agrees.


And of course, the chores must go on...Anderson and Tinkerbell looooove to play ring-around-the-house...

Thinking About the New Year, and Goats

The cats are curled up in their basket together by the heating vent. Punkinseed is licking Dodger's head, and vice versa. It's rather sweet. BearGoddess once told us she'd never seen two cats who were so cuddly with each other. But pretty soon, one will have had enough and will jump out of the basket to nap elsewhere. For a while.

The new year is starting off with great promise for me/us, even though so much is unknown. I'm rather quite thankful to have 2008 over with, and whatever 2009 may bring, certainly it can not be anywhere near as stressful as last year. Or even the first 6 months of last year, which took the next 6 months to get over.

I started going to spiritual direction again a couple of weeks ago. I think in many ways I was just worn out, spiritually, emotionally...but I thought I should be better. My guide reminded me that we passed the anniversary of the arrest in October, and in her listening it sounded like my energy dropped significantly after that. Which it did. You can tell that here at the Window, too.

This is why you go to spiritual direction, see. For someone to listen to what is being said underneath the saying of it. She offered me St. Francis as a model -- St. Francis quietly building the church (the church, and maybe myself) back together, even when it was just him and the birds and the sun and the moon, St. Francis talking and singing with the animals. I liked that. I remembered that I have a St. Francis carving, from New Mexico, which sat in my carrel but has been in the bag into which I packed all my carrel stuff back in June, and has yet to be unpacked. Still. Even though I told her I would.

But I like imaging St. Francis and the animals, and I think it's what I like about going to the farm to hang out with the goats. It's just simple, and quiet, and I feel so calmed down because I have to slow down -- I get to slow down -- because you can't be all rowdy with goats, you have to be quiet or they get all riled up and then it's nearly impossible to put them to bed at night. Anyway, I get to slow down and just speak sweet to the mamas when I try to milk them, and talk to the little ones, and move slowly among them and scratch their heads and look into their surprisingly tender eyes. I thank the mamas for their patience with me for being so new and unskilled at milking. I thank the chickens for their eggs. I tease Arlo for being spoiled. I inhale the clean, manure-y smell of the barnyard and pray the bears and mountain lions leave these sweet animals alone.

Here's a story: When I was about 9 years old, my family all went to the grocery store in Austin, TX. We'd just moved there from Arkansas so daddy could go to seminary. Anyway, we went to the store, and when we came out, there was a family there selling baby goats. I don't really remember what they looked like, but I do remember that I wanted one. Badly. I still remember the little chant I made up and hollered in the back of the car all the way home:
I want a little baby goat!
I want a little baby goat!
I don't care what anybody says,
I want a little baby goat!

Well I guess I sort of have my own, adopted, little baby goat now, Arlo -- who is not quite so little now but who has his own byline on the Westfarm blog...isn't he cute!

I have been thinking about my prayers for 2009 -- not my resolutions or even my intentions, but my prayers. One of my prayers is to spend more time up at the farm. It's good self-care for me (and it helps support local, sustainable agriculture).

Other prayers I have for 2009:

--My little base community that we started in June is planning some big steps, particularly moving from a space that's free to a space we would have to pay for, so that we can be in the neighborhood where we feel called to be, the latino immigrant neighborhood where people are really suffering from anti-immigrant sentiment and prejudice. We have to find the money to be able to do this. So we're doing the work we need to do, and praying.

-- I should be ordained within the next few months. HappyChurch has agreed to partner w/my community, naming it has a ministry of theirs so that they can call me and I can be ordained. We are finalizing the partnership agreement and call letter over the next couple of weeks, and then HappyChurch will vote on it all at their congregational meeting on February 1. I am so thankful for their support.

-- I enjoy my part-time work and am thankful that it pays me just enough to pay my bills plus a little extra. School loans begin coming due this month, and I am also thankful that I was able to consolidate almost all of them and will end up paying about half of what I was originally going to. HUGE relief!

-- I pray that as the year unfolds, I'll continue to be able to balance my job, my ministry, and my activism, and still protect time for self-care and for cielo-care. So far I think we are doing well at this, although things got a little wacky in December.

-- I am looking forward to celebrating my cielo's graduation from Iliff in June. I am so proud of you, mi amor!

-- We are praying for a new house, discerning whether we should buy (for the first time) or rent again. We just know that we are ready to be out of this house. This house has served us well but having a basement neighbor has been trying. It's not really the person's fault, but it has been months since we've slept a full night through because she gets up very early to let the dog out, and the stairs and door are right next to our bedroom. We hear everything. The bathroom fan downstairs rattles our bedroom floor, for example. Anyway, we are just done, and we are "praying in" a new home. Here are some specifics, in case you want to help: 3 bedrooms, a place for the kitties' box that's not in our living space (like a basement or something), lots of windows for light but with windows that are energy-efficient and raise up-and-down for using window fans (not these ancient crank windows like we have now), wood floors, decent-sized kitchen, yard, not too close to the street, off-street parking. And, of course, in our price range.

-- I'm praying for better health this year. I had colds at least 4 times that I can think of in 2008, including during my trial and the last two weeks of the year, as well as bad allergies. I usually am good for maybe one cold a year. I want to take better care of myself physically, take my vitamins, start doing yoga again, start walking.

-- I guess, too, I'm just praying for faithfulness as things unfold, praying for my "hope muscles" to regain their strength and suppleness, praying for tenderness and strength for myself.

-- And peace, so many prayers for peace.

Amen.

Happy New Year From Arlo

This is Arlo, with his human mama, Lori, and Cap over there in the corner. Isn't Arlo cute? Remember when I held him when he was just one week old? Now he's a bigger boy, and very cute!

We went up to the farm last Sunday, and I got to help Lori put the goats (and the sheeps and the chickens) to bed. I got to try my hand at milking the goats, including Arlo's grandma, but I was not very good at it. And they noticed! One of the girls tried to sit on me, gradually leaning over until she was almost laying across my back -- her way of saying, "I know you are not my mama, would you please let go?"

I loved hanging out with Lori and the goats, talking to them quietly so they wouldn't be freaked out by my appearance in the middle of their routine. We rounded them up into their "apartments" for the night, tossing in fresh hay and grain and closing up the doors so they'd stay warm and toasty and safe from the bears and mountain lions that live nearby. I found very calming walking among them and and talking to them and taking part in the whole routine.

Lori makes goat's-milk soap and cheese, both of which we love, and soon will be starting up a blog to promote her products and talk about the lives of the goats and other farm doings. I'll put up the link as soon as it's ready.

Seeing Arlo

I got to go up to the farm today and see Arlo, the little premature goat I got to hold when he was just two weeks old (see the photo here). He's a bigger boy now; he'll never get to the full size since he was a preemie, but he's almost as big as his momma now.

I haven't seen him since then but I think he remembered me. He nibbled on my zipper pulls, head-butted my thighs, even jumped up to put his front hooves on my shoulders, like to hug me. When we left he clambered his front hooves up on the top of the gate so I could reach over and hug him around the neck.

I love Arlo.

I love goats, actually. I loved being out with all of them (although most of my attention was on Arlo, of course) and watching their big, beautiful, wise, and slightly mischievious eyes. For some reason I find it very calming.




P.S. Dodger would like me to note for the record that he is better than a goat. After all, he says, the goats don't paw mama awake at 4 in the morning like he does!

A Nice Sunday Afternoon

Meet Arlo Guthrie: 1-week old premature baby goat! My favorite part was when he nibbled on my chin.

Thanks, BlueEyes, for setting up a lovely afternoon.