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June, you came in cold—so cold, in fact, that halfway through the month, we weren’t sure the tomatoes and peppers would ever grow. And then—boom—a heatwave so intense we could hardly manage the outdoor work.
Such is the rhythm of farm life: resilience through the elements. Heat, unseasonal weather, pop-up storms, high winds—you simply have to roll with it. Some tasks don’t care about the forecast; they must be done, rain or shine. Others allow for a pivot.
This past Thursday was a lesson in both. The day began beautifully. We were sold out, and while Jaik (our musician) jammed away, the temperature dropped, clouds thickened, and what started as a refreshing mist quickly turned into a full-on storm. As the barn doors buckled against the wind, we all took refuge inside.
But instead of retreating or rushing to leave, something amazing happened. Guests grabbed cushions, rolled out round tables, unfolded wooden chairs, and repurposed crates and boxes as side tables. They formed cozy circles, resumed their conversations, and kept enjoying their meals. I walked around, expecting everyone to be poised for an exit at the first break in the storm—but they weren’t.
Instead, I heard, “I can’t wait to see the sunset after this.”
“There’s bound to be a rainbow.”
“The green will be greener than ever.”
They waited. And while they did, they delighted—anchored in the moment, undisturbed by the elements, even expectant of the goodness that would follow.
What a sight—makeshift spaces and kindred spirits joined by a shared love for good things and one another. It reminded me of the joy, thanksgiving, and peace we have in Christ—the kind that abides regardless of what’s happening around us.
I thought of that familiar story: Jesus, asleep in the boat while the storm raged and His disciples panicked. They screamed. He slept. Or the story of two artists, both asked to paint a picture of peace—one painted a calm, serene landscape; the other, a raging storm with a bird resting safely in the cleft of a rock.
Storms serve many purposes—more than we often understand in the moment. Truth be told, we needed that water on Thursday. The land was parched, crying out for rain. The storm came and did its work. And our guests? They held their joy. They found peace and pleasure in the moment. They waited expectantly—and were rewarded with rainbows, blush-colored skies, and a deeper sense of community forged by sharing the unexpected together.
So here's my encouragement to you: Wait expectantly through the storms. Hold your peace and joy. Rest in the One who sleeps through the tempest. And enjoy the spoils that follow.
Until next time,
Mrs. Farmer Jones
“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in You.”
— Isaiah 26:3
“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
— Philippians 4:7
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