From the Farm: Before You Even Ask edition
As we near the close of 2025 and prepare to step into a new year, I felt led to sit down and write a From the Farm entry tonight.
When I write or record these moments, it’s usually because the Lord has placed something on my heart that feels important to share.
December has been quiet for me, though. Spiritually, it has felt like winter. Still. Muted. A season where the air is cold and the ground looks dormant. Not bad, just quiet.
Earlier this evening, Bo Duke and I were out doing our usual chores. Nothing fancy. Just the steady rhythm of farm life.
We walked the fence line.
Checked the water catchment systems.
Drained one before the forecasted freeze could crack it.
Plugged in water warmers for Bo Duke, the cats, and the chickens.
Filled feeders so I wouldn’t have to linger in bitter cold later.
On a small farm, it might look mundane from the outside, but the work is constant. There’s always something that needs tending, fixing, or prepping.
Honestly, I probably should keep a checklist:
Continue working on the raised garden beds
Patch holes in the plastic fencing (one day, a sturdy wire fence will surround the garden)
Create warmer sleeping spaces for the cats
Clean up the treasures Bo Duke brings up from the ravine
At the time, I wasn’t thinking much about any of it. I was just doing. But once I came inside and sat down, the Lord gave me a quiet nudge.
Even when you don’t see Me or feel Me, I am working.
Just like you were.
My chickens had no idea what I was doing for them tonight.
They didn’t know I was preparing for freezing temperatures.
They didn’t know I was protecting their water or making sure they had enough food.
They didn’t know I was planning a call to my feed supplier to stock up on layer grain and scratch.
They were just living their chicken lives—scratching around for tiny cold bugs, sipping water from a system I was draining so it wouldn’t burst.
And that’s when it settled deep in my spirit.
That’s what God does for us.
Yes, sometimes He sits with us, close and tangible. I feel His presence in those moments the same way I sit in a chair I keep in the chicken run, talking to my flock.
But other times, especially in winter seasons, He’s quietly working behind the scenes. Preparing. Protecting. Providing. Handling things we don’t even know to ask for yet. It reminds me of Isaiah 65:24: It will also come to pass that before they call, I will answer; and while they are still speaking, I will hear.
Those seasons where we don’t feel Him may very well be the seasons He’s working overtime on our behalf.
And just like the farm, winter doesn’t last forever.
Spring always comes again.
Blessings to you,
– Kynda 🌾
