Mi Ranchito: Dust, Tears, and Hope

Washing machine tubs=septic system

"You live on a ranch; you have to be creative!" declared plumber Jaime, hoisting old washing machine tubs into holes dug to receive waste.  "The solids will stay in the bins and the liquids seep out.  These should be good for several years."  Learning from Jaime and others, my ranch manager/son Owen has recycled old items to make repairs, screen doors, and a workshop. He's also found his vocation: building and repairing guitars, and it's a joy to see his delight in the work and early success following weeks of study and preparation.

Owen and helper use old garage door for Owen's workshop

Owen repairing broken guitar neck

Two-year old Alex sometimes feeds goats through the fence

A ranch, by definition, has animals, and so far we have none. Just a small boy who sometimes acts like one. We could count the neighbor's horse who grazes on our weeds now and then, or the rooster that regularly flies over the fence. I balked at allowing the neighbor's goats to graze here, alongside a toddler. But one day a large billy goat, eyeing the green on our side from the barren field next door, jumped over a dip in the fence and quickly nibbled up some plants we were nurturing as dust barriers. "Goats will eat everything!" said Rosa, who grew up in rural country near Mexico's southern border.

Pepper tree a favorite spot for Aunt Lois and Rosa

"It was a paradise," says neighbor Lupita, of the hectare I lease in Baja California. "There were fruit trees of all kinds and beautiful flowers…years ago when water was plentiful." Owen and I came to the land a year ago, soon thereafter welcoming Aunt Lois and her caregiver/companion Rosa, with little Alex. We were pleased to inherit the hardy survivors of a half decade's neglect and drought: three large fig trees, a half dozen olive trees, several flowering bushes, lots of lilies, and a huge Peruvian pepper tree. One evening a gray-haired man in a pickup, unknown to us, showed up at our gate and requested pepper tree leaves for his sick wife.

Abundant fig harvest from 3 trees!

Trying my hand at brining olives

Hoping to slow the trucks that speed down our road; round
house is where Aunt Lois lives, her window away from the dust!

Agriculture enjoys water usage priority in the Baja, and the growth of large berry and vegetable farms seems to know no bounds. Daily, 5:30-6 am, buses carrying pickers roll by just yards from our homes, and later, trucks with supplies for building tents to protect the growing produce, and trucks to carry the produce away. Water trucks drive by too, sometimes wetting the dirt road. More often dust billows, covering everything and seeping into our houses.

Owen with neighbors Fernando and Loreto,
soon after we came to the land in September 2015

This past week neighbors Fernando and Loreto and I drafted a letter to the head of city government, requesting permission to built speed bumps on our road (27 of us signed the petition). And we talked of water woes. The city water flows about every four days (and costs about $4/month), but rarely fills cisterns completely. I'd recently called a man who sells from his private well, as no water had flowed for over a week and laundry was piling up! "It's expensive to buy," said Loreto, though the man charged half (about $22 USD) of what he'd asked six months ago to fill our cistern. Neighbor Lupita was visiting me when the water truck arrived this time, and I credit her presence with my getting a Mexican rather than a Gringo price!

Following our letter-writing session, Fernando gifted me with veggies from a relative's farm and Loreto with delicious marmalade she made from our figs. The friendship of neighbors in a new land is priceless to me, and I've now met everyone down the road, having made the rounds with the petition. "We also need to ask for street lights," said one woman. "Come to a surprise 70th birthday party for our father on Saturday," whispered the daughter of a large extended family that lives two ranches down. Beef sides hung along a porch…for the party, perhaps.

Neighbors Loreto and Fernando's field and house;
white tent for "surprise" birthday party just beyond the house

Six years in Africa prepared me to live with limited water, and work in Haiti, with dust and delays. I thrive on most challenges. But nothing prepared me for the rending of my marriage--a union of three decades, imperfect but precious. I now understand why divorce is called a "living death." This rugged new terrain has been watered with tears…many shed alone, some with other women--befriended at my kitchen table or the women's shelter--who are also struggling with family pain. Sustained by the love of our sons and faith that God is working in all, I'm enormously grateful for the emotional support of a small circle of faithful family members and friends.

Shelter women here for a Mother's Day celebration

Meanwhile, I've been on a quest to understand more about childhood trauma and its impact on my family, our extended families, and others. During a recent camping getaway with Owen and neighbor/friend Lupita, I had some quiet hours for reflection and experienced a kind of epiphany, recognizing similar patterns of behavior among family members who experienced trauma as children.

Quiet camping spot amid vineyards of Valle de Guadalupe

I've studied, taught, and written (published) about trauma in recent years, yet failed to fully understand the trauma dynamics operating in my own family. I was too close to it all, and coping with my own pain of rejection.

With friends during a getaway in Valle de Guadalupe

I just ordered After the Tears: Helping Adult Children of Alcoholics Heal Their Childhood Trauma, but have already learned from other reading that traumatized children, as adults, tend to perceive assertiveness in others as anger or threat, and to isolate themselves when feeling anxious or fearing loss of control. The million dollar question is this: in times of disagreement or conflict, how does the assertive person who values emotional honesty, direct communication, and accountability relate to the traumatized person--whether spouse or friend or workmate? The short answer is to make accommodations for the sake of love, while supporting the healing of trauma in those ready to seek it. Herein lies hope.  I'm still learning, and welcome hearing your experiences.

Taken just after one of our rare, dust-settling rains!