A Legacy

Nearly three years ago we moved to my husband's family farm. It has felt like both a blessing and a burden to me, a gift wrapped in expectation. I will admit that most of the expectations are probably my own. 

I recognize that if I had moved to my own family's farm, I wouldn't have given a second thought to taking it over, making changes and improvements. I belonged there, after all, more than I have ever belonged to any place, more than any place has ever belonged to me. It is my hiraeth. The place I long for, to which I can never return, a lost place of my past.

The truth is, my husband knows this place with an inward knowing. In many ways it is all he knows. I am happy for that. I am happy he has had the security I have longed for; I'm happy I am a part of that now. I feel that God answered the deep, unspoken longings of my heart with this farm and home.

I did not transition seamlessly. It hasn't been a graceful process. It did not feel like home to me for a long time. I didn't know how to make it feel like home. I didn't know how to honor what was, while moving into what is to be. This inner struggle has made it hard to move forward. Rather than embracing what is, I've been at a stand still.

I want this to be my home, my place.

Home has always been my favorite place to be. Home is infinitely important to an introvert. It is a place of safety, security, acceptance, creativity, love, and much needed solitude. It is important to me that my home reflects who I am. I'm working on making those transitions, little by little.

I've thought a lot, over the past few years, about the legacy of this farm. I'm sure some of the values and challenges have changed over the years, generation to generation. One thing has been constant: faith. This farm has a legacy of faith.

We will not hide them from their children; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, His powers and the wonders He has done. Psalm 78:4

We attended a family reunion picnic a couple summers back. We went through the routine of prayer, potluck dinner, scripture reading, fellowship. God pressed into my heart that day, "This is what generational faith looks like". It isn't perfect. It isn't made of perfect people. It's faith. It's trust in Him, handed down through tradition, ritual, the routine of daily life. It's prayer. It's the Word. It's living life with purpose. Sometimes it's, "Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief". Mark 9:24

It has stayed with me, that impression. I've thought about it. I've learned from it.

I recognize that my faith does not look like the extremely routined, disciplined faith of the generation before me. I think my faith and my relationship with God will always be different. I don't come from the same place, so my place is bound to be different.  

I will make it different; I will make it mine, for as long as I am here.

I will make changes, and from now on I will make them with confidence, because the important thing isn't the wallpaper or the color of the shutters, or the new plantings or shop renovations. The important thing is the legacy of faith. I can do that, God help me. It will not look the same. It won't be the same, because it will be unique to me, my husband, our family, our relationship with our Heavenly Father.

It will be different; it will be beautiful.

I trust God for that.