I recently sat in waiting worship. I was in the south of Philadelphia, and alone with one other person waiting. When that person left, I took note of a window. In a building called the barn, in which the meeting house was born, I took note. In the words of the prophet, I received a message. “What do you see, old man?” “I see a window. It is different from the others. It has bricks but no glass. It is no longer a window, but a collection of bricks. Painted white like the wall. “Look to...

It ’s not often a guy from the inner-city gets to share all about what the farm life has done for him. Yet, from my early experiences of downtown life in Detroit’s Cass Corridor to the Woodward and W. Monterey bus stop in Highland Park. I know I’ve seen a whole heaven’s rowboat full of crazy city stuff, most too traumatic to share. However, between my Detroit experiences and the time I began some sort of farming or another in the last 20 years, I s’pose I’ve seen nearly everything. Aw, I know...

the author A lot of folks, ranging from family members to liberal Quakers, from good friends to visitors to Sandhill,  ask us why we wear plain clothes. A lot of people ask us if we are Amish. When we tell them we are carrying on a tradition of early Michigan Hicksite Friends, it has little to no meaning.  “Friends,”, they inevitably ask, “what’s the difference in wearing clothes. Why bother?” So, I’d like to use the farm blog to talk about that aspect of our faith and practice that is...