There are some things I just don’t understand, and for the longest time it was bugs. If I as much as saw a creature with more than four legs grazing my bedroom ceiling, I was already high-tailing it downstairs to send my dad on squash patrol. Sure, I knew that spiders ate a lot of pesky insects that would otherwise chew up plants, but that didn’t matter much to me.  However, those days have since disappeared and new ones have come—ones filled with ripping up weeds, clawing through dirt, and watering parched ground, and I have developed a liking for these creepy-crawlies that find refuge in the forest of grass blades and tomato vines.

While many bugs I have seen, touched and found interesting throughout this summer, the grasshopper has stolen my heart. Hidden among vegetation as a treasure in a forest, they appear at the most unexpected of moments—like the surprise of a good friend or the first bite of food after a long day. Their tender bodies leap carefree and teasing–their presence that of fleeting summer moments, delicate and bright in my hand—memories of days spent with watermelon down my chin, dirt underneath my fingernails, and laughter I can’t contain. While they flee at the touch—and even the sight, sometimes—I still delight in them, and enjoy knowing they are around me, even if I can’t see them.

Lately, I have been struggling with the knowledge that things don’t last forever. I want to hold on to this place and everything it entails, but it is as water in my hands, and the tighter that I hold on, the faster it goes. Maybe sometime in the future I will be able to better understand the reason for having to leave this place I have come to enjoy—dare I say love?—over these past few months, and return to school. And maybe, throughout this time (and time is what it seems to usually take), I will rip up some of my life’s weeds, claw through some more dirt and continue watering. Maybe after immersing myself in my own dirt, I will be able to see tiny gems hidden among my life—gems that had disguised themselves as foreign creatures, a nuisance and repulsive at the sight, when really, they had been as inextricable to my life as my own skin. Maybe then I will be able to understand their beauty.

If I were to be honest, I would admit that living at the farm hasn’t been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t even mean this in a physically demanding type way (although it definitely is that at times), but I mean more in a mentally testing and character-checking type way. I have realized that becoming a hard worker does not happen the moment I am handed hard work to do, but rather that my lazy nature will seek to fight it’s way through. Carelessness is also something I’ve discovered I wrestle with, whether that may mean leaving different things that belong to me lying around or being careless with other people’s things, and usually I end up realizing my carelessness after the fact, which can be very frustrating to myself and probably to others as well.

However, I realize that these are valuable lessons I can take with me for the rest of my life (and tomorrow, even). I wanted to come here and work hard, but working hard isn’t something that just happens—it’s a decision; one made day after day and in every circumstance where it’s needed, whether that may be with my hands or my brain.

This summer, I’ve been constantly surrounded by people who can do amazing things, from bee keeping to bread making to banjo playing. This could be intimidating, but it is also pretty inspiring. I used to think that people who could do amazing things were just born with those characteristics, or were super humans or something (which might sometimes be true), but I think it is also true that when people want something, people get it. And if they want it and don’t try to get it, they won’t have it. Whether that means learning how to build fences or learning how to listen better, these things don’t occur out of mere desire—they may begin that way, but they will most likely end with determination and a few drops of sweat. This is inspiring to me, because it lets me know that I am capable. Whatever, it is: I am capable. And I’ll probably fail, but that is just the beginning of possibilities.

At any rate, I am glad to be here. I am thankful to be welcomed and to be a part of this place for a little while. I am excited to be able to learn and grow and hopefully take something away at the end that I can share—something that will say, “Look, this is proof that a beautiful life is possible.” But for now, I will take these experiences one day at a time, and let them lead me where they will.

I felt connected to this part of biblical history that had been instituted so long ago and yet is still sometimes being practiced today. I remembered Ruth and the kindness that Boaz showed to her (Ruth 2), and how that is still possible today, and how I can become a part of that process—how I can live a life that feeds the hungry and befriends the poor.

I am eager to learn more and to live a life that is meaningful and fulfilling and is not solely benefiting myself. I feel blessed to be welcomed by these folks whose main goals are to love God and love their neighbor, and to do it in a way that is true and good and counter cultural to a world that emphasizes putting oneself over the good of another. I invite you to join me this summer as I discover more what it means to follow these basic commands, and learn to live more purposefully in the process.