Have you ever come out of the house early in the morning with dew on the grass, a nip in the air, and a job of work to do that you know will be hard but you want to do anyway? A job not unlike what your great grandpa might have done, or his great grandpa before him? A job that connects you with the land and the cattle that depend on it, for their very existence?
Not many do. And fewer and fewer will as time goes on.
I have, in a small way. It’s what led me to major in Ag Business in college.
I love our work as missionaries with Cru, count it as the greatest possible honor, wouldn’t trade it, and plan to continue serving full-time just as long as the Lord provides the way.
Heather and I decided a few years ago that our high school kids needed an entrepreneurial project. We landed on marketing and selling grass-fed beef. That process awakened a longing for a family cattle business.
About that time we decided that we had rented long enough, and that we would be happy if our next move was our last.
After ensuring a situation where we could start a family cattle/beef business with our kids in a way that fit well with our work with Cru, we decided to go for it.
It’s been a journey, for sure..
Here are a few of the things I’m excited about…
Raising livestock. And I’m really talking about cattle. Even though sheep, goats, and horses would all count too. Might as well count pigs and chickens, though they rank pretty low. Except for chickens that could double their benefit of supplying eggs for the breakfast tacos and the here and there dessert. Biscuits too… but I’ve gotten off track. Chickens are good for the soil that produces the grass that the cattle eat. That’s how they double up their usefulness is what I’m trying to say.
I want my kids to experience a simpler life full of things that are real. Cattle are real. The dirt and grass under their feet is real. The rain required for the grass is real. The responsibility for caring for it all is real. The air, sun, wind, and rain are real. The hot and cold, and the need for water and grass at all times is real. And all those things are involved in raising cattle. As is pasture management, including the dang chickens.
Meaningful physical activity. And I really mean work. I know the benefits of exercise. Staying healthy. The importance of developing and using muscles. But though Papaw only lived into his early 90’s, he always seemed pretty spry to me. Especially when I broke the tip off my Old Timer lock back hunting knife by doing something dumb more than likely… like throwing it and trying to stick it in a stump or something… and Papaw spun that grinding wheel and put on a new tip. Better than new, actually, because, you know, Papaw did it. But I can’t quite picture Papaw going to the gym. Even if they did allow his coffee can to spit in. No sir. No gym. But spry nevertheless.
The meaningful part of meaningful work is key here in my opinion. I’ve heard of people who keep a pile of heavy rocks on their driveways. Every so often, they have their boys go out and move that pile of rocks from one side of the driveway to the other, saying they need work to do. … … I know I don’t know everything, and I sure can’t claim to have won first prize for best dad ever, but moving rocks to be moving rocks doesn’t sound to me like work. A “workout” maybe. Or drudgery. But not work. And certainly not meaningful work.
But building fence does. Looking down a straight, tight, well built fence brings a significant sense of accomplishment. Work in this way is hard. Grueling even. But not drudgery. It’s good. And useful. Picking up limbs and moving the mobile chicken coup (there we go again with the chickens!) and tossing hay in the winter time is hard work too. Meaningful work. I want to do meaningful work with my kids. I want to look down that fence line, pat one on the back, and say, “We did a good job there, son. That’s a bit of work we can be proud of. You can tell your kids one day that you had a hand in building that fence. Straight. True.” And when he grows up and has the chance to tackle another job, maybe building a building, or a bridge, physical or relational, he’ll be better off for having done the work of building that fence back home at Base Camp.
Speaking of Base Camp… you may be wondering why that’s what we’re calling it.
Heather and I are explorers. Dreamers. Wanderers.
Base Camp is where we dream of the chase. The misison. The adventure. The marvelous feat to accomplish.
It’s where we mend from the last time, sew up holes in our socks and shirts, gear up, and get ready to go again.
Base Camp is for celebrating, story telling, and remembering.
It’s where the coffee is strong enough, but not too strong, and the fire is always just right.
I’ve written more about that here, if you care to read more (and I hope you do), but to summarize, Base Camp is where we launch from… not the destination.
I believe that our true home is in Heaven with Jesus…
“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” John 14:1-3
I want our family to remember that this world is not all there is. Our time here is short. Eternity is long. Nothing here approaches everything there. I want each of us to live hard, pursuing important things. Work and rest. Meaningful work. Meaningful rest. Meaning relationships.
Hunting. Fishing. Right out the back door. Not all of it, of course. I still dream about Patagonia trout and Alaska Big Horns. But in the everyday for us and our kids, and perhaps some day grandkids and great-grandkids, small fly-rods always strung and waiting by the door and an old .20 gauge and a few shells handy to take a quick dove or two from the back porch will do nicely.
Roots. We’ve moved a good bit. Our kids have experienced life in several cultures in several parts of the country. I am glad about that. But now, as they grow up and begin spreading their wings and venturing out into the world on their own, like Will had done by leaving the state for college, we want to create roots for us and them. Perhaps as they grow up, we will try out the multi-generational living thing. Sounds appealing. Either way, it’s time for us to put down some roots. We’re in it for the long haul. Though ever seeking to be sensitive to the Holy Spirit’s leading, as far as we’re concerned, this is our last move.
So Heather and I will continue pressing into our mission with Cru … turning lost students and faculty into life-long multiplying disciples of Jesus Christ. We will prioritize our kids and the time we have with them while they are young. Together, we will raise a few head of cattle and offer grass-finished beef for sale a couple of times a year.
Who among us can claim knowledge of the future?
Yet, I envision 50 years of family dinners with loved ones gathered around a big dining table laughing and talking and eating beef grown right outside the yard gate.
Photo by Iga Palacz on Unsplash