This past week, I joined my brother and sisters at the family farm where we were raised to get things ready for an estate sale since our mother will be moving in with my sister due to declining health. Since we had a limited amount of time to get things ready, the four of us made a pact to not stop to reminisce as we sorted through our family's belongings. This was very difficult to do since we uncovered memory after memory.
We only had two full days to get the heavy work done of lifting furniture and sorting through all of the items in the house as well as in the farm buildings. We were all tired and dirty after day #1. I noticed that we were all limping at one point due to the heavy moving and lifting. At the end of the day, we surveyed what we got done and knew that there would be even more work for the next day.
Day #2 came quicker than we wanted. Still sore from the previous day, we got an early start. There were still more heavy and awkward size pieces of furniture to bring down two flights of stairs. There were still more heavy trash bags to heave over the metal wall of the large dumpster. There were still more pieces of wood and old farmhouse equipment to get ready for the sale.
It's 4 in the afternoon of day #2 and believe it or not, we did it! We got everything done that we needed to get done. The house and the farm buildings were now ready for the big sale.
As we're standing in front of the barn, tired and worn out, my brother says, "Hop on the pick-up truck and let's drive one last time to the pines." The pines represented the holy space on the farm. The pines was where dad would go to chop down our Christmas tree. The pines was the final resting place for our loving pets. The pines was the place you would go when you just wanted a place that was quiet and beautiful.
Off we drove on the tractor pathway that our dad had traveled so many years. It's the path that we used for our mini-bike while growing up. Dad died in 1989 and so this final trip to the Pines was in loving memory of him and in honor of our mom who was about to leave the place where she was born.
The pick-up truck stopped and we jumped out and marveled at the grandeur of the recently picked corn fields, the thick woods behind us, and yes, those beautiful, beautiful pines just down the hill from where we were standing.
The four of us reflected on some good memories of growing up on the farm, working the land with our dad, going pheasant hunting and scaring out rabbits from the brush nearby. Sometimes we didn't say a word because of the peace that we felt in that moment. A deer took us by surprise as it darted through the empty cornfield toward the pines. As the sun was setting and we were all trying to savor every moment of that holy time, someone offered to pray.
The four of us joined hands, forming a little circle and we prayed. We thanked God for giving us parents who loved us through the good times and the bad times. We thanked God for blessing us with good memories of the farm and for the opportunity to be on it one last time as sons and daughters of Janelle and Norman.
After our prayer, we got back in the pick-up truck and drove back to the old farm house.
I'll always remember this holy moment as our last trip to the pines.
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