Prepared for the Storm, Forged in the Fire

This past weekend at Larson’s Land, we saw winter bear down on us.

If you’ve ever run a farm, you know you don’t get to negotiate with the weather. When a storm is coming, you can’t wait. You can’t procrastinate. As it says in Matthew 25, you have to have your oil ready. You have to be prepared, because when the moment comes, it’s too late to get ready.

So, we got to work. We used the talents and strength God gave us to steward what He has entrusted to our care. We hauled hay. We moved feed. We made sure the water was flowing. We prepared the animals for the cold, knowing that their safety depended on our readiness.

Inside the house, we hunkered down. We kept the woodstove stacked, filled the kitchen with the smell of sourdough and hot soup, and roasted fresh coffee. We even found time to play in the snow, finding joy in the middle of the freeze.

But the hardest work we did this weekend wasn’t hauling hay in the freezing cold. It was hanging pictures in the living room.

Nicole and I decided it was time to put up old family photos. And honestly? We wanted to stop. We wanted to put the hammer down and walk away.

Looking at those photos brought up a flood of old memories. It brought up regrets—things we wish we could take back, moments we wish we had handled differently. But mostly, it brought up the ache of losing Larson. It forced us to have a conversation we sometimes try to avoid: that we are still hurting. That we will always hurt.

It would have been easier to leave the walls bare. It would have been easier to avoid the reminder of who isn’t in the pictures anymore.

But the theme of this year is Forged. And you don’t get forged by doing what is easy. You get forged by doing hard things.

We pushed through the pain. We hung the photos. And once they were up, looking around the living room, it wasn’t painful—it was beautiful. It was a reminder that Larson’s spirit isn’t gone; it lives through our lives every single day. It lives in the work we do, the sourdough we bake, and the cattle we raise.

Matthew 25 talks about being faithful servants. Sometimes faithfulness looks like hauling hay in a blizzard. Sometimes, faithfulness looks like hanging a picture frame even when your hands are shaking with grief.

We got the farm ready for the storm. We got our hearts ready for the memories. And we know that one day, the wait will be over, and we will be together again.

Until then, we keep working. We keep preparing. We keep loving.

I'll leave you with this quote by James R. Sherman wrote in his book Rejection. "You Can't go back and make a new start, but you can start right now and make a brand new ending."