We have just finished a time of gift giving and joy which is anticipated every year, no matter how many years we approach the Christmas season. For followers of Christ, it reminds us of how much we are loved by our Savior who left heaven to be born as a baby so that He could die for the cost of our sins.
The giving of gifts is a reminder of the gifts brought by the wise men who presented the baby Jesus with gold, frankincense and myrrh.
We exchanged gifts with more than 20 relatives who came for three days to celebrate Christmas at the farm. We also shared many wonderful experiences on the same land that Hamiltons have been honoring Christ for five generations.
But something big was missing this year and it was sad to see it go. The original large wooden barn with a dance floor on the second level fell down in the night during the last big snowstorm.
The structure had been in such bad shape for so long I could no longer get it insured. Crews that came out to see if it could be repaired said it was too costly. Others that came to demolish it said it was too far gone and dangerous and we would have to wait until it completely fell down. The fire department said it was too dangerous. I even contacted a grant program through the state historical society to see if I could save it that way. The stipulations were so great that it was not a good choice.
So we waited for the day we knew would come, knowing there was nothing we could do to stop the inevitable. When the heavy snow piled on the roof, the weight was too much for the old barn, and the first part of the barn went down. As I drove by to go to church, I slammed on the brakes and gave an audible gasp.
The next night, more fell down. The exposed inside, never having seen the light of day, revealed wood beams looking as new as when they had been put in place about 150 years ago. The fallen barn completely changed the landscape of the spot.
I sent a picture of the barn to all the family members at the time it went down so they would be prepared when they arrived at Christmas. I even sent the picture as far away as California and Kentucky for those who could not be here.
As the families arrived from Pennsylvania, Minnesota, South Carolina, Tennesee and Ohio, they passed the old red barn that held so many memories for each one of them. It felt like an end of an era. We had held picnics in the huge hay mow and the children had all played up there.
The hay mow floor once had a beautiful wooden dance floor for most of its life where Lenox folks came for old-time dance parties on the farm. It had been replaced years ago with a cheaper wood.
The barn was a marker of a wonderful time in our lives when the great grandparents, parents and many family members were alive and we were a working farm putting up hay, soybeans and corn. Oh, the long days of setting up the elevator and unloading hundreds of bales of hay and sending them to the hay mow.
Our children and grandchildren loved riding on the hay wagon or driving our Minneapolis Moline tractors.
Every 4th of July for more than 50 years, we all piled on the wagon, sometimes two wagons, and went for a breakfast in the woods.
My most dramatic memory of that old barn was falling from the hay mow while grabbing hay bales and sending them down below into the back of a pickup truck. My husband Bill was stacking them straight to be delivered to a horse farm. My father-in-law Jim was grabbing the bales as I sent them down.
I was new at this job and they were only using me that day because someone had to cancel coming to help. The men did not tell me about hay hooks and I had no idea what they were or used for. I only knew I had lots of strength in my arms and thought I could handle this without a problem. The kids were all in school, so they could not help.
The bales were packed so tightly in the hay mow that I was struggling to separate them to get a good hold. Using only the baler twine as a hand hold, I really worked hard on one stuck bale. It finally gave way and literally “popped” out, and down I went backwards with the bale not far behind me!
The bale and I landed, luckily, on top of the highest stack of bales in the bed of the pickup truck below, parked in the middle of the barn. I fell with such momentum that I bounced off of that pile onto the lower one and finally down to the next one.
My husband and father in law were always men of very few words and this one was no execption!
They stared at me as I slowly got up and finally one of them said, “Are you alright?”
Folks, there was no way I was going to admit defeat after I had told them I could handle this job! I simply said, “Yes.” Then, I slowly got up and walked back up the ladder and finished the load.
After about an hour or two, I was really starting to hurt and was so glad when the men said it was time for lunch. I could barely walk into the house and when my mother in law heard what happened, she suggested I go over to my house and get some rest. I slightly resisted, then gave in and walked home. It has been a funny “old barn” story for many years.
We have kept cows, pigs, equipment and 4-H projects in that barn through the years and taken many photos in all seasons.
Today, we wonder what we will do with that spot after we get it cleaned up.
Although the barn is gone, the memories will live on and be recounted for years as we gather together on the place where we made those memories and continue to make new ones.
Happy New Year from my front porch swing!
