Driving to the Farm with company is a rare treat. It made for an interesting contrast to my normal ride in silence style, punctuated by an occasional comment to myself and my, "Hello Cows" comments, and apologies to animals unfortunate enough to meet their end on the road. I had to consciously resist these statements in order to avoid looking weird, or maybe it would be weirder, to Lori.
This trip had been a long time in coming. Lori hasn't had the privilege of visiting the animals as many times as I have, and it is important to me that she understands just how dear they are to me. It is one thing to hear me ramble on and on or to see their pictures, but it is another thing entirely to touch them and feel their spirit against your hand and see the life in their eyes for yourself. This is what I wanted to share with Lori.
Lori, for her part, was on her best behavior. I think she did a good job of keeping her inner, "Are we there yet?" under wraps for the duration of the trip. In fact, she napped most of the way up. The only sounds coming from her were an occasional snuffle or snork (Microsoft Word's spell-checker doesn't like that word, but it is the best one to describe what I was hearing). We made two stops en route, one at a rest stop, and the second at a gas station mini-mart to get Lori some nose spray. I wanted her trip to be perfect and that meant no runny noses.
We arrived with a couple minutes to spare, and Lori met Blossom almost immediately. As if drawn by the distant snorts and snuffles emanating from Lori, Blossom seemed to sense a kindred spirit and emerged from the barn into the yard. I knew right away that this would be a good trip. I left Lori to fawn over Blossom and went looking for Leanne. She had graciously offered to be our guide for the day and this is always a treat. I found Leanne in her office, and while she was getting ready to go, Jess handed me a bunch of fliers and literature for me to take home with me. I needed a refill and appreciated not having to trek down to the People Barn to load up.
Fortunately, Leanne was a better host than I was and introduced herself to my guest, who she assumed correctly was Lori. Ooops, I should have been more on top of that. Since we were already practically in Blossom's area, and since it was apparent that Lori was transfixed, this seemed like a logical spot to start the tour. Lori and Blossom made fast friends, and Blossom promptly rolled over and fell asleep while Lori pet her belly and I rubbed the top of her snout. Every few minutes, she would start to wake up when one of us had become distracted and forgot to keep rubbing. Blossom has grown so much since I first met her and it was really nice to see Lori enjoying some time with her while she was still a piglet.
During the course of a long visit, Lori had the chance to meet with all of my farm friends and our adopted family. She really seemed to get it, and I am convinced that this trip helped her to better appreciate what keeps me coming back and wanting to be more involved. As always, she had a lot of questions, and some had answers. I was really glad that we had made the trip. Lori even had a chance to see Daisy, our new adopted duck, and Sweat Pea, our new goose. Daisy was one of many ducks rescued from a neglect case at a Santa Cruz hatchery. She has a deformity on her bill that makes it curl up. This does not seem to be impeding her normal "duck-ness", and it makes for a uniquely endearing appearance. She doesn't like being petted, but as with Penny, she seems to recognize and enjoy hearing her name.
The finishing of our rounds coincided with the hottest part of the day, so far. As the temperatures crossed over into the nineties, I could see that Lori was getting red and sweating profusely o her forehead and nose. Since we had been able to spend time with everyone, and since I knew it was going to get warmer, we decided that it was probably best to call it a day after a few hours. I really wanted Lori's trip to end on a high note and not with her succumbing to heat stroke.
While we were driving home on Interstate 5, I suddenly became very tired. It was the kind of tired where you think that you might be falling asleep for seconds at a time and not even notice it. It was definitely not a good sign for the rest of the drive home. Having made this trip as many times as I have, and under more fatigue inducing circumstances, I was a little surprised by the way I was feeling. Fortunately, there was a rest stop a few miles ahead, and I decided that t would be best to pull over and stretch my legs a bit. Lori was napping, but she woke up when we started to slow down. Lori had been a serial napper for our whole road trip, and I suspect there was at least a part of me that wanted to wake her up.
Stepping out of the car felt good, although it was still pretty darn hot outside. Having been in the heat for several hours, I had become re-accustomed to the air conditioned cocoon that my truck had provided. I didn't really have to go to the bathroom, but since that is what one generally pulls into a rest stop for, I guess I felt compelled to do so. On the way, I passed an older gentleman with a dog and a sign. I didn't stop or turn around at the time and figured that I could read it when I passed going the other way. After my obligatory relief, I was washing my hands when I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. It was a note on the bathroom door. As I skimmed over it, on account of a men's room normally not being a pleasant hang-out, I got the gist of it. I was struck by four things: 1) It was apparent that it was written by the same man that I had passed on my way in; 2) It was well written in terms of handwriting, grammar, and spelling; 3) It told a sad story of a house fire, a found job, and a quest to get to where the job was; and 4) It ended with a statement that beckoned the reader to pray for a miracle, even if a contribution wasn't possible. This was clearly something different than the normal solicitation.
As I stepped out into the light again, I saw Lori milling about. As we headed back for the car, I could see the man again on the bench. My guess would be that he was in his mid to late sixties. He held a handwritten sign that said, "Praying for a Miracle" and the handwriting matched the note I had just read. Lori and I stopped; Lori to pet the dog and me to find out more about what he needed. I explained that I didn't have much to give, but I asked what it would take to help him out. Lori was otherwise occupied, but I learned his story pretty quickly. He and his wife were trying to get to Texas for a job milking cows. That was not a good start! They had set off with two-hundred and seventy dollars and expected that this would get them to their destination. They had not anticipated the need to replace a clutch, but it turned out that Mr. Murphy, of Murphy's Law fame, had been stalking them. Now their luck had run out after a two-hundred and fifty dollar bill. I told him that I didn't have any money on me, but that I would see if I could find an ATM down the road.
I started the car and filled Lori in on the exchange. While Lori had been within four feet of us while we talked, she had been in "dog land" and was apparently oblivious to anything that was said. I had been thinking it, but Lori was the first to give voice to it. "Maybe you were supposed to stop by the rest stop". That thought was strong in my head. I have been trying to get more in tune with the subtle cues and whims that I believe are there for those who are intended to heed them. It certainly seemed reasonable that this was not entirely a chance encounter. I asked Lori what she thought would be a good donation and she told me to do what I wanted. I thought back to my book, "The Way of the Bodhisattva". There was a particular passage that stayed with me:
"If I give this, what will be left for me?"
Thinking of one's self - the way of evil ghosts.
"If I keep this, what will be left to give?"
Concern for others is the way of heaven.
One could say that this is reminiscent of the "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" passage from the Bible, but for some reason, this speaks to me more because it flips our innate selfishness on its head and asks us to look at it differently. Now obviously, this does not mean that I was going to hand over my life's savings in one fell swoop, but it was quickly clear what I should do.
Lori and I found an ATM machine about three miles down the road in a gas station, and after several minutes, we were back on the road retracing our route to the rest stop. When we arrived, I asked Lori to wait in the car. She had wanted to go back and pet the dog some more, but for some reason, that wasn't what I wanted. As I approached the bench here the man sat, there were a couple of women who were chatting with him and petting his dog in an amusingly reminiscent version of what had previously transpired with Lori and me. When their conversation had died down, I approached. "I have decided that I trust you," I said, in a way that I hoped would come across as affirming rather than callous. "I am a Vegan and do not believe in the exploitation of animals, even for milk, but if you promise to take special care of the cows that you work with, I can be your miracle today." It was not the time or place for a lecture, so I held my tongue on the nature of the dairy system. He replied that he was Vegan as well, but that he had taken to working with cows after returning from Vietnam as a way of finding peace, and that he always treated them well. Once one has entered into a trust with another person, it requires that we believe them, and I really did. As I opened my wallet to hand over the money he needed for his trip, I knew I was doing the right thing. As he accepted it, I could tell that he was surprised, but in a good way. He began rapid fire recitation of various Biblical versus in a way that made me a little uncomfortable because, while I recognize them, I certainly could not perform such a feat and was a little uncomfortable with the notion of rewards in Heaven for this act. It reminded me of a hymn that I used to enjoy reading, although I can rarely recall it ever being sung in church, called "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief", written by James Montgomery in 1826. While I used to enjoy this song, as I had written previously, the concept of doing good things for the sake of, or in the hope of future rewards is not something that I hold much respect for. I wanted to tell him that it was not about that at all for me, but I decided not to. To do kindness and then strike at one's faith would have no benefit, so why do it?
The rest of the drive home was uneventful. I was no longer tired, which was a relief, particularly with Lori in the car. I also had the tranquil and warming feeling that comes with doing the right thing when the opportunity presents itself. This was a small token that in the grand scheme of things required little sacrifice on my part. I like to believe that there were others who cared as well. This day gave me cause to imagine the world that we could live in if we all strove constantly to be each other's miracle!
