Farm Fresh Blog

A "tipping point" is defined as the critical point in an evolving situation that leads to a new and irreversible development. Some would call this a "turning point."

I have reached this both personally and professionally. Few things allow one to see life as clearly as when one sees death regularly. When one is no stranger to death, the vagaries of life become more apparent, and painful. Over time we see that some people, animals, and places are merely seasons along our journey through life.   We can choose to rave and shake our fists at God, fighting against what appears to be a tide of senseless hurts, or we can simply choose to accept that there are some things in life that we can never explain. We just accept it and move on.

A dear friend of mine said something last week that made a profound impact on me. She said, "I love you unconditionally."

Wow. Think about that. I don't think anyone has ever said something like that to me. The sad thing is that we rarely make time to spend with each other. Both of us are too busy. Most of our time together is stolen with hurried phone calls on the highway while she's at work and I'm going to work. She is still my sister, long after I divorced her brother. She accepted his new wife, just as she accepted my new husband. And always, always, she has accepted me. Like the famous line in "Bridget Jones' Diary", she loves me "just the way I am." And I love her. Some people come into our lives for a season, and some come for a lifetime. I suppose the trick is figuring out the difference.

At the end of life, people like this will be with you. Not your job. Not your money. Not your diploma. A fancy car and a fine house mean nothing if you're alone. Family and friends are your true wealth.  

Perhaps life is like a bird's nest. It is built with care. Eggs are laid. Parents carefully tend the nest. The eggs hatch. Three tiny lives of hope. And all is well until the storm tears the nest apart. One baby drowns in a puddle beneath the nest. One is missing. And the other, the last remaining hope of its parents, falls to the ground into a puddle, beside his dead brother. As this baby struggles against the water, his parents screech helplessly. Another storm is on the horizon. Is the human that intervenes on behalf of the baby bird an angel, or a demon? The parents and the baby are convinced the human is a demon, bent on harm.  Perhaps God is like that helping hand, his actions often misinterpreted by those who do not have the full story, and have no interest in weather reports.

And perhaps that is what faith is - trusting that despite everything, God has the weather report.

After too many years of juggling clipboards over dead men, I've decided to put in for a transfer. It is time to find something closer to a "regular job" where I can focus more on what's really important in my life. I shall forever be grateful for the lessons the dead have taught me, but now is time to focus on the living.