On Moving Fences

We've been moving fences. Again.

If you've never lived on a farm, you probably picture fences as permanent things. Straight. Solid. Fixed. Once they're built, they stay put.

The Reluctant Farmer certainly thought so.

Now he knows better.

Because fences don't .

Stay put, that is.

Around here, fences move all the time.

Maybe we need another pasture. Maybe the goats have eaten one section down to bare dirt while another is waist-high and ready to graze. Sometimes a gate needs to be in a different spot because we changed the way we use the barn. A fence that made perfect sense three years ago may not make much sense today.

As I was pounding posts into the ground the other day, I found myself thinking about how much that sounds like life.

It's funny how we think of so many decisions as permanent.

Where we'll work.

Where we'll live.

How we'll spend our weekends.

The routines we build.

The boundaries we set.

At the time, they all seem like the right choice.

And often, they are.

Until they aren't.

One of the things farming has taught me is that changing your mind isn't failure. Sometimes it's simply good stewardship.

We don't move a fence because the first one was wrong. We move it because the farm has changed.

And if we're paying attention, we change with it.

The same is true of the people and relationships in our lives.

Some boundaries need to be strong. Like a corner post, they're meant to stay put. You can move one if you have to, but it's going to take some work.

The fence around the goats isn't there because we don't like goats. Quite the opposite. It's there because we care about them. The fence gives them the freedom to graze, play, and wander about without ending up as a tasty coyote snack.

I've started to think good relationships work the same way. Healthy families. Good friends. Strong communities.

They aren't cages.

They're safe places that give us room to grow. The people who love us best create the kind of security that lets us become who we're meant to be.

There's another thing I love about building fences.

It's hard to explain unless you've done it, but the rest of the world goes quiet.

You measure.

You stretch wire.

You drive staples.

You tamp dirt around a post.

Then you do it again.

It's repetitive enough that your hands stay busy, but your mind has room to wander.

Or maybe it doesn't wander at all.

Maybe, for once, it just finally decides to be quiet.

I think I could use a few more moments like that.

Moments to step back and ask if the "fences" in my life are still where they need to be.

Maybe some need to be stronger.

Maybe some need to move.

Maybe a few should come down altogether.

Life has a way of changing us.

Our families change.

Our work changes.

Our priorities change.

If we're lucky, we do too.

So yes...we'll probably move another fence someday.

The Reluctant Farmer has accepted that reality, and he certainly knows better than to ask "Is this where it's staying?"

So the next time you see a fence stretching across a pasture, don't assume it's there forever.

Its might just be where it's supposed to be...

For Now.