By Wendi Kitsteiner
The story of how I ended up manning my farm alone, with all four of my young children in tow, is long and not really part of this story. But the short part of it was that my husband and in-laws were out of the country at my brother-in-law’s wedding, and I had been the obvious choice to stay back. Quite a few people offered to help me during that four-day weekend. But the truth was, they all had children too, and it didn’t feel helpful to add more little people to the mix.
And so I had decided to man a hundred acres by myself, with the chickens and ducks and geese and pigs and sheep dependent solely on me for their ultimate survival.
But this story is really not about the fact that I was by myself, trying to navigate a farm and four kids. It is about the Holy Spirit and that still, small voice. How we shush it regularly. And how it is there for us to listen to.
On the last day of my solo mission, I decided to take the four-wheeler to do my animal chores. I was not experienced driving it, but I was in a hurry. I also decided I didn’t want to leave my young daughters at the house by themselves, so I took them with me.
