Good morning Reader,

Yesterday, our daughter Marion was confirmed. I sat in the pew watching her stand up front and make her confession of faith before our congregation — and the tears just came streaming. There she was, our little girl now looking more like a young lady, standing steady in her faith — and looking ahead to her continued walk with Jesus.

One of her friends made her the most creative — and I'll admit, a little bizarre — gift to hang on her wall (see the end of this email, she gave me full permission to share it). It was a collage of things Marion has talked about — visiting Europe, hanging out on a boat, biking at the beach . . . and in every single scene, her friend had cut out a photo of Marion and pasted her right in. With a painting of Jesus beside her in each one — even walking on water next to the fishing boat.

It made her so happy. She laughed and said, "Haha Mom, this is silly — but SO TRUE. I can be anywhere in the world and know that Jesus is with me."

I keep turning that over. Anywhere in the world. Paris or a barnyard. A fancy restaurant or a church pew in Winthrop, Minnesota. He is there.

It is a full season. Wedding showers, school plays, confirmations and coming graduations. Going and celebrating and being with the people we love.

And out past the fence, stretching across our fields — the grass is almost ready to graze.

Almost.

This is the part of spring that tests me. The fields are a gorgeous sea of green right now. The cattle can see it. They want it desperately. And so do I — I'm ready for the rhythm of grazing season, the cows moving through fresh paddocks, the farm feeling fully alive again.

But here's the thing: each blade of grass is like a tiny solar panel. The more surface area it has, the more sun it can capture, and the more exponential the growth becomes. If I put the cattle out too soon, they'll graze it right back to nothing — and we'll spend all season trying to recover. A little patience now — for the cows, the sheep, the goats, the pigs. And, perhaps hardest of all, for me.

What I didn't expect was that our Bible readings that same morning — Marion's confirmation Sunday — were full of grazing. Ezekiel 34:14. I had read right past it a hundred times. But sitting there with the fields on my mind and my daughter newly confirmed, I heard it like it was written for that exact morning.

"I will feed them in a good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel shall be their grazing land. There they shall lie down in good grazing land, and on rich pasture they shall feed on the mountains of Israel." — Ezekiel 34:14

And then Psalm 23 — He makes me lie down in green pastures. I used to read right past "makes me." But lately that phrase is what jumps out at me. Sometimes the Good Shepherd doesn't ask. Sometimes we are simply led — or made to wait — because He sees the whole field from an angle we can't.

"He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul." — Psalm 23:2–3

Marion's friend knew it. Paris or a barnyard. Waiting or going. He is in every scene — even the ones that haven't happened yet.

So for now, the cattle stay in the lot eating hay. The grass keeps growing. And we trust the Shepherd who sees the whole field.

I hope your last few days of April is full — a garden just waking up, a grandchild who is super excited to see you, a moment that makes you laugh and tear up at the same time.

Your farmer,

Leah
Great Heritage Farm