JACOB'S FUND :: McKenna Farms Mission Experience, Late Spring 2014 part 1

TRTP volunteer, Rhonda, greeting one of the therapy horses

(left to right: Bernie, Rhonda, Wilma, Christian, Judy, Sonya, Glenna, Jim)

We’ve come back to McKenna Farms for another amazing mission experience. Back to visit the children and families we support, back to the gentle horses who lend their bodies willingly and gracefully, encouraging the children on top with their easy, repetitive movements, stimulating the small bodies to copy the sweet, free motion. Back to the quiet experts, the staff and therapists who make McKenna Farms a special, loving place for these children.  

Landon, his therapist and the horse-handler at the entrance 

to the Jacob Beachy Sensory Trail

This time we’re working along the Jacob Beachy Sensory Trail (the trail), built in honor and memory of our own Jacob, for whom Jacob’s Fund is named. Nestled in the woodlands surrounding the farm, the trail leads through forest and along a stream, circling back to the sensory stations. Each year, sun and rain weather and wear the stations along the trail, and this winter’s polar vortex has taken its toll.

As we plan our work, we observe Landon on horseback placing colorful beanbag frogs into the openings of the shape sorter, stuffing a frog in a cutout of a red circle, matching the color and shape called out by his therapist. For him, this is fun. The sensory stations appeal to his senses of touch, vision, hearing, and smell with fuzzy and smooth-leaved plants; colorful flowers, plants, shapes and tubes; large melodic chimes; and fragrant herbs. 

However, the affect of the activity reaches much deeper than fun – it is serious developmental science. Children like Landon who experience developmental delays often have difficulty processing sensory input, our basic interactions with the world. These are the building blocks of all activity, allowing them to negotiate the world in which they live. The sensory stations play a critical role in occupational therapy.

We are so happy to work on this trail. It is so meaningful to us and to all of the young people who use it daily as part of their therapy.

And now the work begins.

McKenna Farm's new barn entrance

JACOB'S FUND :: McKenna Farms Spring Mission Trip 2013 (part 5)

Sunday Morning: Amazing Grace

Before my eyes open I hear Ted in the kitchen making his family recipe pancakes.  In seconds I’m dressed and following the delicious smell of pancakes on the griddle.

It’s raining. Hard.

Brian lifts his eyebrows at me and asks, “What’s our plan now?”

“No work. It would be impossible. We’d be mired in mud, red Georgia clay mud.” I hate leaving things undone, but it can’t be helped. Jessie tells me she has volunteers coming this week who can take care of what’s left.

A double helping of pancakes later, we’re gathered in the waiting room, warm and dry. We sing “Amazing Grace” to the accompaniment of Brian’s guitar.  

From where I’m sitting I have a view of the side and front of the barn, and a few feet away from it is the sign along the path that says it’s the Jacob Beachy Sensory Trail.

We would never have thought that sign would be there six years ago at this time. We’d be happy if, instead of the sign, we’d see Jacob emerging from the barn on a horse. But sometimes we don’t get a choice. And we do what we can to help others. ~ Glenna Fisher

JACOB'S FUND :: McKenna Farms Spring Mission Trip 2013 (part 4)

Brian leading the singing

Saturday: Working for the Weekend  

Bright fresh faces greet me on the patio. Brian’s ready with devotions: I Corinthians 13, the passage on love. I never tire of this, and am forever in need of reminding that love is patient, kind, never fails, and never ends. He’s also given us a songbook, and we sing three songs before we break up into work teams and scatter out over the farm. And we haven’t even had breakfast yet!

I’m passing out tools, directing wheelbarrows full of weeds to the dumpster, and recruiting help to get the Gator started. The barn is a magnet. Of course it is. How can anyone not want to see, pet, feed, groom, and lead the horses to pasture? Then there are the miniature horses. Jessie’s told our eager youth they can go inside the corral to see them up close. No sooner said than done. One or two of the kids have ridden horses before, but most are discovering these beautiful animals for the first time.  

Jessie’s here with biscuits! These are monster biscuits, light and fluffy and filled with things like bacon and sausage and cheese and egg. They’re delicious, and with the profit this morning coming to McKenna Farms, we hope they sell thousands of them.

The slight cloud cover makes today more comfortable for all-day work. I check the hourly forecast. Looks like we’re home free. No precipitation is expected until after dark. Wilma, you are the woman!

Other volunteers have arrived, including a local ROTC crew, and a young woman who has come alone. She immediately becomes part of our weeding and mulching crew, spreading pine straw after Jana, wearing the weed killer backpack, douses the unruly vegetation.

What mission trip would be complete without an encounter with wildlife? While we don’t stumble into bats, rats or tarantulas as our Red Thread counterparts in Haiti have done, Georgia has its own zoological thrills: lizards and ants. “Look what I found!” one of our young men says as he holds a lovely green gecko up for me to see. I share his delight – these little lizards are captivating.  

Our group seems to be pretty much on a live-and-let-live basis with ants for the most part, but the ants here seem determined to build skyscrapers in the midst of the planting beds, making it hard to mulch. So the routine is: ant killer, wait, check anthill for activity, then, if all is quiet, flatten anthill and spread mulch. Slows the process down a bit. 

Since a visitor to the farm parked too close to a fence last week and a horse ate the front of her car, one of our crews is moving railroad ties to the staff parking lot, placing them a safe distance from the fence and any hungry equines.  

Next they begin what will be the hardest, longest job of the day. The indoor arena sits atop a hill, and drainage and erosion have been a problem. Most of the problems have been corrected, but two perforated plastic drain pipes that ran from the arena to the pasture below have washed down. A few feet of pipe extend from the top of the hill, but most of it lies thirty or so feet below. Our mission: dig two thirty-foot trenches, reattach the pipe, and bury it. I’m somewhat surprised and pleased to see that a rather large crew, both boys and girls, has gathered to help Brian and Ted with this project. This job isn’t going to be easy.

I’ve come to borrow a mattock to dig out a transplanted shrub that is not going to make it.  Ted brings it and quickly dispenses with the dying bush, making my twenty minute task his five minute job.

Jana and I set out sandwich makings and round up our troops. They’re ready for a break, but as soon as they’ve eaten they’re back to work.

“We’re almost out of pine straw.” That’s the news as I return to the sensory trail. Jessie’s back from delivering two of the miniature horses to a festival for disabled kids at a nearby church, so it’s unhitch the horse trailer, hitch the flatbed trailer. Off to the garden center.

We’re hoping to mow the area in the center of the trail, but the riding mower can’t get close enough to the weeds around each of the stations, so I’m off to get the weed trimmer when I encounter Ben. Ben’s just completed his last task and is looking for something to do. I hold up the weed eater, which is nearly as tall as I am, and thus is at least as tall as Ben. Undeterred, he’s ready for this. I take a quick pass and then hand the trimmer to Ben. Bernie has joined us now, and he gently instructs Ben in the fine art of weed eating.  

These last thirty bales of pine straw bring our weekend total to one hundred ten bales. Good thing we brought gloves; otherwise our hands would look like pincushions.

Ted meets me at the edge of the parking lot and announces that the drain pipe is in place and buried in the two trenches they’ve been digging for six hours. I check the time – after 4 p.m. The kids are tired; they’ve worked very hard. And Ted and I are responsible for dinner tonight. I’ll prep and he’ll grill.

I run a mental inventory of what’s left to be done: mow the grass at the sensory trail, continue weed eating around the stations, and spread mulch at the few stations that still need it. Maybe an hour and a half’s worth. I think we can finish before we leave tomorrow morning.

A flock of teenage girls clusters around me in the kitchen. “Can we take a shower?” they chorus. Of course you can, I tell them. Not so simple. The next line of the chorus is “Can I go first?”  

I wash the hamburger off my hands, find paper and a pen, and make a schedule. With warnings about running out of hot water (thank goodness the boys take their showers in the barn’s upstairs bathroom), I return to making patties.  

We have one casualty – there’s a small patch of poison ivy on Alex’s leg, but the farm’s first-aid kit is amply supplied with packets of poison ivy cream to soothe her itch.  

Ted and Glenna preparing the meal

Our hungry crew quickly dispenses with twenty-four hamburgers and nearly thirty hot dogs, plus all the cookies and fruit left from lunch.

Ted, who brought hand tools, is busily installing some great signage donated by a father of one of McKenna Farms’ kids.  

Dusk is quickly moving toward darkness. Joyce has brought us her fire pit and some marshmallows. Some of our youth have brought the minis up from the pen, and they’re exercising them in the grassy area near the gazebo. Oh, wait! Now the horse is ahead of one of the young men, so perhaps its horses exercising teenagers. 

Brian, guitar in hand, sits on one of the picnic tables. Christian grabs a bucket from the barn, turns it upside down, and begins drumming. Their duet draws a crowd – good music.  

Joyce giving marshmallow roasting lessons

At the fire pit, Joyce gives instructions on how to toast the perfect marshmallow without burning it. She has several eager pupils, and some even duplicate the golden toasted exterior and soft warm interior that literally melts in your mouth. I’d forgotten how good they were.  

There’s a game of “Hide the Lizard” going on (yes, that lizard) a few feet away. It’s noisy, but I don’t think the lizard is any worse for wear.

Raindrops begin to fall. I smile at Wilma, our weather maker, sitting by the fire pit.  

The little chill brought on by the sprinkles of rain drives some team members inside. A group of teens gathers on the patio, talking with Brian. As I recall from my own youth, there’s nothing like a full day in the outdoors and a quiet evening to bring out the big questions in life.  

Thunder rolls as I zip up my sleeping bag. ~ Glenna Fisher

JACOB'S FUND :: McKenna Farms Spring Mission Trip 2013 (part 3)

Friday: Coffee’s on early. 

Eager to get to work, we opt for doughnuts and fruit for breakfast. 

We step outside to find Tony, one of the young recipients of a ridership from Jacob’s Fund, on a horse in the outdoor arena. He sees us and rides our way to say hello. It’s a thrill for us. We’ve met and talked to Tony several times, and he recognized us right away!

Tony & Pumpkin

On a trailer at the edge of the parking lot are thirty bales of pine straw. We place the bales at intervals around the sides of the farmhouse, don our gloves and begin work. This morning‘s forecast puts the chance of rain tomorrow at seventy percent. Wilma declares that won’t happen. Still, we’re determined to get as much pine straw mulch down as possible.

But Cameron and Landon are here, along with their mom! These twins were silent and Landon was in tears the last time I saw them. Now, they are thriving, thanks to hippotherapy. 



By the time we break for lunch the sun is high and hot. As we eat, McKenna Farm's Director Jessie and I are on our cell phones checking the weather once again. The chance of rain tomorrow is down to sixty percent. Wilma just smiles.

Candace and her mom pull into the parking lot as we finish lunch. You may remember Candace, a teenager who excelled at the Special Equestrian Olympics in 2011 and 2012.  
The Red Thread Promise became aware of her need last summer and later learned that she had lost a major source of support for her therapy. When one of our year-long scholarships became available, Candace was named the newest Jacob’s Fund ridership recipient. 

While Candace saddles up and begins her therapy in the outdoor arena, her mom, Dana, and I chat. Dana shares how Candace's confidence has soared due to her therapeutic riding. She is proud to have mastered so many skills on horseback. Candace has also become more outspoken about kids with different abilities, writing speeches and sharing about her own experience as a child with spina bifida.

Candace atop Hershey Kisses

Wilma has been telling me since we left Ohio “There’s a lot more to mission trips than hammer and nails.” Our conversations with Tony, Cameron, Landon, Melissa, Candace, and Dana have revealed the invisible silken red thread that connects us as a vivid, thrumming-with-life link.

Even in April in an unusually cool spring, the sun, at its zenith in Georgia this Friday, is too hot to work under, so we slow our pace and remain in the shade. Time to check the forecast again; the prospect of eighteen people inside the house with buckets of paint tomorrow is a bit daunting.

Hooray! The chance of rain is now at forty percent! Wilma, not given to bragging, and without even a hint of triumphant smile, simply says again, “It’s not going to rain.”

Finding a shady spot near the barn, Rhonda and I put a newly-sanded door on sawhorses and prime it. The sliding door will be installed at the entrance to the therapy rooms and will keep children receiving therapy from being distracted by activity in the offices and outer rooms.

Back to the pine straw, and in a matter of minutes we’re finished with the planting beds around the house and stand back to survey our handiwork and declare it beautiful. But with just one bale left over, Jessie’s off for another trailer load of pine straw.

All day long McKenna Farms has been alive with children, horses, volunteers, and therapists. The excitement is contagious and energizing. Now, dinner over, horses go back into the barn, the sun dips below the trees, and we slip into easy conversation with Jessie and Joyce, about the kids who come to McKenna Farms, redesigned plans for the parents’ viewing room at the indoor arena, and future mission trip projects.

Nearby, Jessie’s sons, Jackson and Aiden, play while Emma, Joyce’s daughter, who spends many hours each week volunteering at the farm, rides in the increasing dusk. 

Sitting down makes us aware of sore muscles and fatigue. Aiden, four, is ready for bed.  Amid mouth-watering promises of biscuits for breakfast from a local biscuit restaurant that’s sponsoring a fundraiser for McKenna Farms, Jessie and Joyce depart.

Within minutes, we’re showered and ready for bed. As the rest of the crew settles in to sleep, I grab a book and head for the porch, wondering if I can stay awake until the rest of the team shows up.

Though these rolling acres of trees and pasture have held deep meaning for me since the first time I brought Jacob here for hippotherapy. I’ve kept most of those feelings to myself, choosing instead to talk about the effectiveness of this therapy, the dedication of Jessie, her staff and the volunteers, who together keep the farm running and lovingly provide therapy to the disabled children whose lives are changed here.

Members of previous mission trips here have described this place as sacred. It is both healing and cherished, so I believe the description is apt. It certainly resonates deeply in me. 

Now, with the quiet broken only by an occasional whinny, I look out over the outdoor arena. My mind slips back to those times I watched Jacob ride Major as his therapist walked alongside. I smile, seeing him riding backward, wearing what seems like a very big helmet.  

As if unwilling to break the peace that blankets the farm, the first van carrying our fellow team members pulls into the parking area almost soundlessly, followed in a matter of minutes by the second van. I lead the eight youth and three adults to the boy’s and girl’s trailers where they’ll sleep, locate the bathrooms for them, and provide a peanut butter sandwich to one hungry young lady.

In a matter of minutes, the youth have inflated their air mattresses, spread out sleeping bags, and changed into sleeping pants and tee shirts. “Don’t worry about getting up too early,” I tell Brian, our youth pastor. “We’ll need to be well rested.”  

A final weather check shows the forecast for most of Saturday morning at just thirty percent chance of rain. ~ Glenna Fisher

JACOB'S FUND :: McKenna Farms Spring Mission Trip 2013 (part 2)

 

The key to a successful mission trip is preparation, starting as early as possible. That’s what the available literature advises, and it’s good counsel. Every year The Red Thread Promise launches a variety of mission trips, and planning starts early and in great detail. Jacob’s Fund folks and Christ United Methodist Church (CUMC) began planning three months in advance for the April 2013 mission trip to McKenna Farms, always in close contact with Jessie, the farm’s director.

Early on, we lined up a list of projects that needed to be done: staining new fencing around the playground area, pulling weeds, mulching, and sprucing up the Jacob Beachy Sensory Trail after winter had taken its toll.

CUMC’s Youth Group signed on to join us, their added energy and enthusiasm lending an air of renewed excitement to the trip.

Evening has begun to settle quietly over McKenna Farms. Therapists and kids are going through the last exercises, volunteers lead horses from pasture to barn, where they’ll feed them and settle them in for the night.  

Thursday Evening: Moonlight through the Pines

We’re the advance group. Most of the team won’t leave home until after school on Friday.

Jessie (farm director) and Joyce (lead therapist), greet us warmly as, laden with air mattresses and sleeping bags, we make our way to a large therapy room that will serve as home for the next three nights.

CUMC youth, Joyce and Jessie prepping the fire

We’ve been following the weather closely, as has Jessie. All of our planned projects are outdoors, and rain looks imminent for Saturday. With the bulk of our team arriving late Friday night, it seems our flexibility is about to be tested. We won’t be able to finish the fence staining tomorrow, and with Saturday looking wet, we scratch that task off our list.

No problem. When your focus is on serving the two hundred or more children who visit the farm each week, there are always more than enough projects to keep a crew in steady work. While all of the rooms in the trailers were freshly painted, three rooms in the one-hundred-fifty-year-old farmhouse could use a coat of paint.

Minutes after finishing dinner, as a full moon rises over the towering pines bordering the Jacob Beachy Sensory Trail, we’re ready for bed. With bad weather on the horizon, we need to get as much outside work done as we can tomorrow.

Before drifting off to sleep, Wilma, our mission trip expert makes a prediction: it will not rain on Saturday. ~ Glenna Fisher

Praying for good weather!

JACOB'S FUND :: McKenna Farms Spring Mission Trip 2013 (part 1)

We’re leaving for McKenna Farms in Dallas, Georgia, in a few days.

Right now, our mission team from Christ United Methodist Church (Middletown, Ohio) is meeting to go over the details of the trip and introduce mission trips to those who are making foray into the mission field. We quickly run through the basics: where we’re going, what we plan to do while we were there, eating and sleeping arrangements.  

Then questions start popping up like critters in Whac-A-Mole. I soon realize that much of what a mission trip is about can’t be described or predicted. Each trip is different, and team members will bring home a kaleidoscope of new experiences.

Mission trips aren’t for everyone. Hard work, sweat, getting dirty, and less-than-perfect sleeping accommodations are key elements of most trips. Flexibility is absolutely essential. In everything. Add in eight middle schoolers, some of whom have never been as far from home as this weekend will take them and you never know what may happen.

As I look around the crowded conference table, at new young faces and wise, experienced ones, I think, “They’ll be perfect.”

~ Glenna Fisher, Jacob's Fund Director