Journal Entries: The Right Write

I’m asked so often, “How in the world do you find the energy to get all the things finished that you do?” To be really honest, I don’t know how I find the time, energy or gumption to do the tasks around the farm. I’m well into my 40’s, display the stereotypical American physique of a few too many extra pounds, work a 40 hour a week job, have a small dog biscuit business on the side, play flute in a community band and have 27 animals that depend on me for their survival. 
I have to admit, it is a lot and I’m not always the happiest in doing my daily chores, although there always seems to be something that makes me pause for a moment and appreciate the blessing that is this life.

Sometimes the pause is a gorgeous sunrise or sunset as I’m walking at breakneck speed to the barn to check on the chickens and collect eggs and sometimes it’s just the way that the wind is blowing the pines in the backyard. More often than not, it’s three adult roosters crowing in the morning that makes me smile and I wish I had more time to devote to caring for everything the way that I’d like to.

I’m a Type B personality crammed into a Type A lifestyle.

My ideal life would be to rise at the break of morning and feed the animals, then settle in for an hour or so to enjoy a cup of coffee and perhaps do a crossword puzzle or perhaps write another entry in a journal that I started when I first moved to the farm.

I’ve always been a journal keeper, having received my first blank journal at around 6 years old. I’ve discovered that the need for journaling is hereditary, discovering that my Great Grandpa Jordan kept detailed journals throughout his life—chronicling life on his farm in Southern Illinois, the birth of my father, day to day events that may have seemed insignificant but were important enough to him to write it down.

I’m sure, like myself, my great grandpa referred back to these journals from time to time to remember what happened on a certain date at the farm or what the weather was or how my great grandma was, any little event. As I read his handwriting I feel a connection to him and realize that many of the same worries I have today in more modern times, he felt also so many years ago.

The journaling will continue, I’m sure, throughout the rest of my life and worries I have today will seem insignificant years down the road.  It’s all in perspective. I know that one day I will look back at journal entries and wonder, as folks I know ask, how I got it all done and the response will be – “I don’t know, but I have it written down.”