There’s a funny thing that happens to me - I’m not a person who likes to share before I’m ready, though I do tend to share a lot and it might seem like things come spilling out, the truth is that those things have been percolating quite a while usually, before they make their way into the world. Well this morning I sat down to write the newsletter and what came out was a sort of confession to all of you supporters, all the doubts and insecurities that have been blowing and swirling around my mind the last few months finally found a way to be articulated.. it was such a relief and it was more and different than what I intend the newsletter to be, so I cut and pasted it over here in the blog and intended to come back and flush it out into a full post. And I finally did get back to it a few minutes ago - after doing chores and then spending a few hours trying to ease a pinched nerve I managed to tweak as I threw hay over a fence - well I sat down here and went to add a photo and then decided against that one and somehow got distracted and rather than discarding the photo, trashed the whole blog post and since I already cut it all out of the newsletter, everything I wrote is gone.

So now I’m left in that strange position of wondering if what I created and lost, is worth trying to recreate. Is it worth my time? Is it worth yours? And outside of and alongside that question, is whether I can recreate it in any resemblance to the original at all… because it’s almost as if once all that energy was finally released and found words, the pressure was gone… it’s out in the world and in a way, out of my mind, even if it’s disappeared from print. It’s not really gone from my mind of course but it feels less pressing and I suppose that’s because whether or not any of you actually read it, I imagined some of you reading it as I wrote, and that was as good as the same thing. It amounted to a confession and now I have the relief I needed.

Some of you wise people do that with journals but I wanted to share it with you because in my mind, it concerns you… and the fact that Sweet Haven no longer exists in the vacuum of my imagination or the bubble of our actual physical space - it exists as a sort of virtual community and family and idea because that is how I’ve brought it into being, that is how it exists and is supported - and while I’m the facilitator, you all are the catalyst for so much of what Sweet Haven has become, for so much of what I spend my time doing.

And I question how I spend my time all the time, to be redundant and sardonic… it’s always at the back of my mind and along with the question of time, is the question of money..…. your money, your donations, how many donations are coming in, how many aren’t coming in, how much is going out, how much hay we’re averaging per day, how many bags of pig feed we use each week, how many bags of cat food… how much will the vet visit cost next week and on and on.

Because Sweet Haven is supported almost entirely by virtual friends donating from far-away places, and very few of you have ever visited, I often find myself wondering, as I’m out and about the place, what you would think if you could see it and be here… a thought that almost makes me shiver or flinch… because you see most of Sweet Haven at a micro level, photos of one animal at one moment in time… you don’t see the whole place as it is, piles of lumber that need sorting, garages that need cleaned out and organized, fencing that needs remade, gardens that are either overgrown or half-dead, raised beds that are rotting and falling apart, and animal manure everywhere. Chicken poo everywhere, piles of bedding and goat and sheep poo, the pile of donkey and pig poo… Annabelle’s cow pies…. and then there’s the cat poo which is a saga in itself!

One of Bobo’s earliest days here, he would creep closer and closer to Leonard after she was asleep, until he was touching

Maybe that doesn’t matter to you, maybe the insecurity is all in my head. Maybe you understand that piles of poo and fencing supplies and empty feed bags and twine are part of the deal and I’m only falling short of what I wish things would be - but it doesn’t stop me from comparing to what I think we should be and what I imagine and see that other sanctuaries are. Beyond being tidier and better landscaped and accessible, I see other sanctuary managers trimming the feet and tusks of 600 pound pigs in special contraptions or building walkers for chickens or constructing huge, safe enclosures that give their birds plenty of space but also total protection from predators and even more protection from disease … or the sanctuaries that have heated indoor facilities that get cleaned daily by employees and whose animals have employee and volunteer attention for hours each day, who have qualified vets either on staff or on call…. what do we offer - what do I offer - compared to that? There’s no sugar-coating it - not much.

So why are we here? What do we offer? Why should I ask you to support us?

I think I’m supposed to answer those questions in some compelling, or if not persuasive, then a poetic way - but I just honestly haven’t been sure of those answers. It’s true that there are just a handful of farm sanctuaries in Nebraska so I can assure you they’re needed. But am I the right person to run one? On soooo many levels, I am resoundingly NOT. And rather than becoming more comfortable in the role of manager or facilitator here, I’ve become more and more uncomfortable.

It seemed simple at the start. Give some animals a good home. You have a barn. You have some grass. Keep some goats. That’s almost Buddhist in its beautiful pragmatism. So we kept some goats and I loved our goats and that made me want to give some more animals a better home. So we “saved” some old chickens. And I began to love the chickens. And then we found Tru donkey, in bad shape and needing saved… so she came and by then we had rescued our first litter of kittens, five brothers, and we needed Leonard dog to help us and things began to be a little hard to afford. We were still making it but only just…. but I loved all the animals and wanted to help more, so I thought, become a sanctuary - that makes sense, right? You’re already doing it, you just have to name it and file for the status and then people can help you save and care for and love animals. Simple.

Well I did the simple steps to incorporate as a nonprofit and gain tax-exempt status and animals just kept coming, a few at a time… and yes, there was more to it than just being here and existing - I had to show people we were here and existed and tell the story and ask for help and keep showing people and telling the story and that’s where I am, making art for and coordinating fundraisers and raffles and reminding you all that we’re here and trying to be honest but still appealing — and it’s not that simple, it’s not that easy and a lot of time, I don’t feel that good about it. Even though it started out for all the right reasons. I can’t help but question things like our carbon footprint, or how we’re affecting wildlife who lived here before we fenced everything off for “our” animals… what about the deer and rabbits and coyotes and wild birds who used this grassland before we were here? What about all the power we use to run heat mats, heated buckets, and heat lamps to keep our animals comfortable? I won’t even go into the quagmire of animal health concerns, and how I agonize over each issue that presents itself, whether or not I’m making the right call to seek medical help or not, how I chose to treat something, etc. Or how little time I have for myself, for things I used to love to do - gardening and walking and just being with Nettie.

It’s too much to share. It’s too much to ask you to read. And then again, it’s all here, below the surface of each post I make, each photo I share… it’s in the back of my mind each time one of you makes a $5 donation and it practically screams at me when one of you sends $100 - am I making the most, the best, of what you entrust to me? (What is the Best and why do I hold myself to that standard?) And how long can I maintain even this less-than-best standard??

I doubt that many of you will have read all of this, I can’t expect you to. But I wanted it out there, to clear the air and to clear my mind. I felt I had to share what’s really on my heart, or maybe deep in it, deep enough that it’s hard to articulate most of the time - the things that swirl around my inner cosmos and don’t usually materialize as words I share with anyone - because while for some of you, sending $50 every few months to help our animals doesn’t feel like a big deal and you don’t lose sleep over how it’s spent or how the individual animals are doing - it’s a big deal for me! So I want you to know that I take it seriously, arguably too seriously, and while I can’t make all the right calls or promise to be the best sanctuary, I can assure you my intentions are always good, and that I’m doing my best to make this work, for the animals, for my family, for you friends who care for us, and for me too. Thank you for being here and hearing my confession.

xo,

Rosanna

confessional

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