He Came to Help—and Left a Harvest of Love
Mr. Joe's journey to our farm began through his daughter, Vali, a former resident of A Place For Us Ministries. Vali had been apart from her dad for 4 years, and it was a beautiful reunion the day we picked him up to go stay at the farm. What's striking is the deep bond they shared. Mr. Joe had called her “baby girl,” and they talked every day. He always treated her like royalty and guided her to stay grounded in her faith and values.
We picked up Mr. Joe to join us for our annual fundraising dinner, held for the first time on the farm. He wanted to be there for Vali’s story and help us prepare for the big event. What struck us was his dedication. He wanted to stay on to help with the construction of the 10,000 sq ft greenhouse.
Most days, you could find Mr. Joe taking care of the garden and animals with such love. Every evening, he'd check on the horses and the donkey, giving us feedback and showing his care for the farm's well-being.
On his last Wednesday, Mr. Joe and I planted four garden beds together. I could sense the pain he was experiencing. I knew his body was tired. “Mr. Joe, let’s take a break,” I said gently. He looked at me, steady and determined. “I’m not taking a break,” he responded. It wasn’t stubbornness. It was purpose. He wasn’t just planting seeds — he was planting himself into this place. His love for the farm and his desire to give back were clear. He wanted to contribute, not be paid, and even expressed a desire to live on the farm if he could. His spirit was so touching, finding joy in simple things like weeding gardens and being part of the farm community.
The plan all along was to get Mr. Joe closer. As Vali got him settled into his new apartment, he was beaming with joy. We thought it was a new chapter for him, with the farm just a short drive away. Just days later, we received the call no one expects, and no one is ready for. Mr. Joe had passed away peacefully in his new apartment. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, taking off his shoes. There’s something tender about that image — as if he had come home, finished his day, and was finally ready to rest. It's a reminder of how fragile life is, and how moments like those on the farm, surrounded by love and purpose, are truly what matter.
It's hard to replace someone like Mr. Joe. His heart, commitment, and love for Vali are irreplaceable. He's deeply missed, especially as we prepare for the next season on the farm. We're grateful he got to spend his last chapter here, thriving in the farm's beauty and contributing all he had. We miss you, Mr. Joe!
Vali recently moved her brother to this area, and they fulfilled one of their father's last requests, that they all attend church together. Mr. Joe wasn’t there in body, but they felt him in spirit.
We have a new Facebook page for the farm. You can find it through this link: https://www.facebook.com/share/1AjSWj128e/?mibextid=wwXIfr.
We are getting ready to launch an Podcast for the farm. Currently, we are building our audience while posting encouraging and healing posts.
The following is a piece on grief. It wasn’t written with Vali and Mr. Joe in mind. However, it’s very fitting for their story.
Grief isn’t only about death.
It’s about loss.
It’s the life you thought you were building
that quietly fell apart.
It’s the relationship you fought for
that still didn’t make it.
It’s the future you prayed over, planned for,
and believed God for
that never arrived.
Grief is what happens when love, hope, or identity
has nowhere to land.
You can grieve someone who is no longer with you or who is still alive.
You can grieve a version of yourself you no longer recognize.
You can grieve the safety you once felt,
the trust that was broken,
the dream that cost you more than you knew how to give.
Grief doesn’t always look like tears.
Sometimes it looks like exhaustion.
Numbness.
Irritability.
Smiling while something inside you is collapsing.
And the hardest part?
Life doesn’t stop to acknowledge it.
The world keeps moving
while you’re carrying something heavy and invisible.
When grief returns, it doesn’t always mean something is wrong.
Sometimes it means there’s more healing to tend to.
And sometimes it means nothing more than this:
What you lost mattered. Deeply.
You are not weak for feeling this.
You are human for grieving it.
So don’t rush yourself.
Don’t shrink your pain to make others comfortable.
Don’t tell yourself it “shouldn’t hurt this much.”
Some losses deserve to be honored, not hurried.
And even here,
especially here
God is close to the brokenhearted.
Close to the quiet grief.
Close to the losses no one else sees.
Reflection:
What have you been carrying that you never permitted yourself to grieve?
#OurFarm
#GriefJourney
#HealingTakesTime
#GentleWithYourself
#HoldingSpace
PS- check us out on Facebook and Instagram. Each day, there is a new topic to ponder.
With gratitude,
Tammie
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