A new beginning

Inside the big white farmhouse, 6-year-old Timmy Fuhrmann squirms on the carpet as his mom teaches him phonics.

“Ned, Ted, red…” he recites from chalkboard, following his mother’s lead.

When it’s his sister’s turn, Timmy glances out the window. “The tractor,” a red sitting lawn mower, sits idle in the driveway. Up the hill, his older brothers and sisters are clearing dead tree branches from the cow pasture, and piling them up for a bonfire.

As the lesson winds down, Timmy can barely contain himself.

“Can I go and drive the tractor now?” he blurts out.

“Almost,” Kim replies in a calm voice.

“Yaaaay!” he squeals.

When mom gives the OK, Timmy beelines to the porch, shoves on his rubber boots, and sprints down the front yard to the riding lawn mower.

With a stern face, he revs up the motor and heads up the long driveway. The tractor moves slower than a slow walk. He must drive at the lowest speed or risk losing his driving privileges until age 7.

Timmy is unfazed. When he pulls up, he flashes a toothy grin, and begins hauling tree limbs with his brothers and sisters — business as usual at Our Father’s Farm.

First-generation farmers

Last June, the Fuhrmann family took a chance on a 38-acre plot of land in Gretna, which they named Our Father’s Farm.

For years, the fields lay fallow – remnants of an old tobacco farm whose time had come and gone. But Kim and Jack Fuhrmann saw potential amid the weeds and overgrowth.

The farm meant a new beginning.

They saw a place to put down roots after seven years of missionary work in Chad. They saw a chance to return to a simpler way of life, away from the chaos and distractions of the city. Most importantly, they saw a future for their seven children: Daniel, 1; Joy, 3; Timmy, 6; Hope, 8; Sheila Grace, 10; Joshua, 11; and Samuel, 13.

Their start is small-scale, but their dreams are big. And so are the challenges that lie ahead.

“We’re first-generation farmers, so we’ve got this incredible learning curve,” Jack says.

A professional pilot, Jack, 40, grew up in a farmhouse, but his parents weren’t farmers; they leased out most of their land. For Kim, 37, a child of the suburbs, the farm was foreign territory, and she’s still making up for lost time.

“I am a city girl. The first time I used a hoe was the day before yesterday,” Kim says with a hearty laugh.

The transition to farm life was made somewhat easier by the seven years of missionary work in Africa. Living in a Third World country taught the family the value of a simple life, and not to take water, electricity and other modern amenities for granted.

“We kind of learned the school of hard knocks in Africa. It helped us to be ready for this,” Jack says.

Daily routine

In barely a year, farm life has become almost routine.

The children wake up between 5:30 a.m. and 6 a.m., well before sunrise.

This June morning, a gray mist hangs low over the fields. Droplets of water cling to blades of grass and pine needles.

Though no day is 100 percent predictable, today is less ordinary than most, a fact punctuated by the agitated mooing of the cows rising from the fields. Yesterday, the calves were separated from their mothers. Today, both parties moo in agony at the loss.

But the chores go on as usual. Over the course of the day, they will milk the cows, feed the chickens, collect the eggs and attend to countless other routine tasks.

Between, and even during chores, Kim home schools the children. Sometimes she teaches them history as they weed the garden and science as they knead bread.

Christian faith is central to the Fuhrmanns. Twice a day, morning and night, the family gathers together for devotionals, where they sing, pray and read passages from the Bible.

When all is said and done, the children are in bed shortly after it gets dark.

Natural growth

The Fuhrmanns are among of growing number of Americans nationwide who are trying their luck with small-scale farming. Intertwined the “buy local” movement, farms like theirs typically cater to costumers who want fresh, locally grown meat and produce free of chemicals and hormones.

Our Father’s Farm sells all-natural products, including eggs, poultry, beef, milk, produce, baked goods. They have found customers through the Internet, word of mouth and by networking at local community markets.

Their goal is to produce enough to feed the family and pay for their bills and expenses. But for now, Jack works part time as a flight instructor at Liberty University’s flight school to supplement their income.

Besides making the farm self-sufficient, Kim and Jack hope that farm life will teach their children hard work, independence and practical skills that will transfer to their adult lives.

As Kim puts it, “You can’t walk away from it. There’s no calling in sick, no sleeping in.”

But between the hard work, the family is careful not to lose sight of the simple pleasures of country life, be it making hand-churned ice cream on a hot summer day or fishing for bass in the lake behind their home.

To Jack and Kim, it’s a blessing to be able to spend so much time with the children.

“We’re able to be content and learning to just enjoy the simple things around us,” Jack says.

The simple things

Though the chores are constant, no two days at the farm are quite the same.

Just before noon, Jack gets a call on his cell phone while he and the kids are building the bonfire.

“The chicks are here!” he says.

The children break out into commotion. At the Gretna post office, one hundred Cornish chicks are waiting for them in a ventilated cardboard box. They’ve been anticipating the arrival for days.

The kids’ voices ring through the air: “I wanna go! I wanna go!”

Kim packs everyone who wants to go into the van. Only Jack and 11-year-old Joshua stay behind to tend the bonfire. About 30 minutes later, they are back with the chicks.

“None died, Daddy!” a child announces as they step out of the car.

Carefully, the fluffy yellow chicks are placed into the handmade brooder. A chorus of cheeps fills the air as the chicks’ tiny claws patter against the cardboard floor.

The children are entranced. They cup them gently in their hands and giggle as they peck their fingertips.

With the kids distracted, Kim returns to the house to start a fresh batch of bread. It’s just past noon and the work has just begun. There’s bread to be made, lunch to eat, cows to milk, more chores to complete.

Meanwhile, the children have some plans of their own — an afternoon swim in the cow trough.

“Dad, dad, can we go swimming later? Pleeaase?” one child asks.

Jack takes a deep breath, eyes the chicks and checks the time on his pocket watch.

“We’ll see,” he says. “We’ll see.”