A small farm, a big vision
By
We call Link Farm a “micro farm” because, on paper, that’s what it is.
Twenty acres, a handful of cows, a manageable flock of chickens, a soap kitchen. By farming standards, we are tiny. A mid-size commercial operation would look at our setup and politely nod.
But we’ve never really believed the vision was small.
Where the vision came from
When Amanda and I were still in California, talking about what it would mean to have land and animals and a different kind of life, the conversation was never just about food.
It was about why.
Why raise animals you could buy meat from? Why make soap you could buy at the store? Why pack up and move across the country to grow things in the dirt when there are easier ways to live?
The answer we kept coming back to was simple: because this is what we were called to.
Not called in a mystical, untraceable way. Called in the concrete way that you feel when something keeps pulling at you — when the thing you thought was a preference turns out to be a conviction.
We believe God put this farm in front of us for a reason. And we believe that reason is larger than ourselves.
What “larger than ourselves” looks like
In practical terms, here’s what we’re building toward:
A food pantry. We want to give fresh farm goods — eggs, milk, meat — to families who need them. Not as charity in the condescending sense, but as neighbors sharing from abundance. We haven’t gotten there yet, but it’s coming.
A gathering place. Farms used to be where communities came together. We want this farm to be that again — a place where people eat together, where kids can see where food comes from, where neighbors become friends.
A farm store and petting zoo. These aren’t just business ventures. The store is a front door. The petting zoo is an invitation — especially for families who don’t have access to open land, who’ve never touched a live animal, whose kids could use a day in the pasture.
School groups and field trips. We’ve already started having groups come through. The conversations that happen when a kid meets a Highland cow for the first time — that’s worth something.
The faith underneath it
I want to be clear about what we believe is underneath all of this.
“Jesus answered, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” — John 14:6
This is the verse we come back to. Not because we think farming is a particularly holy activity — it isn’t, really, it’s mostly mud and manure — but because it orients us. It reminds us that the generosity we’re called to is a reflection of something larger. That the welcome we want to offer people on this farm is a small reflection of the welcome God offers us.
We’re not trying to turn our farm into a church. We’re trying to let the faith we have shape the way we farm, the way we sell, and the way we serve our community.
What’s ahead
We have years of work in front of us. The farm store is still in planning. The petting zoo is still a vision. The pantry events haven’t started yet.
But the cows are here. The goats are here. The soap kitchen is running. The eggs are being gathered.
We’re in the beginning of something. And we’ve learned enough about beginnings to know that you don’t need to see the whole road to take the next step.
If you want to follow along — or get involved — you can find us on Instagram or read more about our outreach.
We’d love to have you with us.
— Jeremy