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Looking for the perfect gift this season? Let's talk about what makes a gift great.

written by

Michelle Sroka

posted on

December 1, 2022

Last week, I was challenged by our friend and priest, Sarah, to reconsider what a "real" gift is during the holidays. Is it something that's borne out of a consumerist drive for the latest gadget or newest convenience? Or do better gifts rely on interpersonal relationships and values?

I'm sure we can all think of a gadget or tool of convenience that we really love and appreciate. (Hello, Instant Pot!) But I also think that when we dig deep, the best gifts we've given or received have more to do with the relationships behind them. Someone has gifted or made us something that reflects their intimate knowledge of who we are or what we love.

At this point, you may be wondering, "Am I reading the right blog post? When are we going to start talking about food?" I'm getting there! What I mean to say is that over the years, what I've considered a "good" or "acceptable" gift has shifted. Part of this has to do with growing up, part of this stems from the sheer amount of plastic young kids accumulate, but part of it also has to do with a substantial shift in my values and priorities.

When I think about gifting now, I want it to be about interpersonal connection. I want to know who made this handmade pottery I'm buying. (Luckily for me, my friend Brenda does just that.) Or - I want to share something that someone has labored over or poured their life into. In other words, I want there to be meaning and intention behind it, something that I can pass on to the person I love.

I was surprised, when we were at our Saxapahaw holiday market a few weeks ago, how many people were seeing food as a way to do this. So many of our customers view pasture-raised products not just as food to consume, but also a gift to share meaning, values, or priorities.

But I think great gifts do demonstrate this. Behind what we gift, we can ascertain how we view the world, and in what ways we are committed to caring for it through our relationships. Gifting food is one way of demonstrating that we see caring for the land - and sharing its bounty with others - as something that actually has value, and shouldn't be taken for granted. (It also used to be a lot more common!)

You're reading this post because you value a certain stewardship of the land. You make changes or sacrifices in your life to prioritize it or afford it. It's not the easiest or most convenient decision for you, but it's one that you feel is important.

So my challenge to you this holiday season is -- how can you share that with others? Maybe it is sharing particular products from our farm - and if that's the case, we'll have a gift guide for you next week! But perhaps there are other ways. Could you replicate your values through your own stewardship of the land? Or supporting more small farmers or businesses trying to do the same thing?

In other words - what gifts will foster the best kind of interpersonal connection with those you love? Which gifts will support what you value or how you orient your life? I know I'll be thinking about that a lot over the next month. I'd love to know your thoughts as well.

More from the blog

Can we care about animals - and still raise them for food?

Can we care about animals - and still raise them for food?

I probably spend the most time with the pigs on our farm. Part of this is practical: since pigs can’t sweat, we spray them down twice a day to help them wallow in the mud and stay cool.  But part of it is emotional, too. I enjoy being around the pigs. When there’s a lot on my mind, or I’ve spent too much time on the computer and need to get outside, wandering over to that week’s pig paddock is one of the ways I can clear my mind.  Pigs are highly emotive and responsive. When I spray them down with the hose, they like to sit back on their haunches, prick back their ears, and snap playfully at the water as it showers down on them. And then joyfully roll around in the mud afterward, of course.  But they’re responsive to humans in general, too. They are naturally curious and, in the case of our heritage breed Red Wattles, gentle. They’ll come up and sniff you, rub their mud-streaked bellies over you, and let you scratch their ears.  And maybe this is the part where you start to wonder: But aren’t you raising them for food?  Why would you want an emotional connection to an animal that you are raising for food?  I understand where this question is coming from. I was a vegetarian for nearly a decade because I didn’t like the thought of killing animals, especially within the framework of our industrial food system.  But actually, it isn’t a problem or moral quandary for me. Yes, we grow fond of and attached to our animals, including our pigs.  Yes, we still send them to the butcher or process them on our farm for food. And yes, this still makes sense to me.  I would gently suggest that the idea that we shouldn’t have any emotional connection to our food - that we can only eat meat that comes from animals we withhold our emotions or affection from - is a sign of our disconnection to the way food is grown.  That is, after all, one of the premises of industrial agriculture. Designate animals with one sole purpose - “becoming food” - and then shut them away in buildings, cramped quarters, or far away from humans who might interact with them beyond the farmer.  And the farmer, too, should be as disconnected as possible. After all, this is an efficient machine.  The problem, from a regenerative perspective, is that growing food is never just about growing food. Food is the gift you receive at the end of your work, but it’s the work itself - and the consequences of the work beyond the food - that is the point.  The work, on our farm, is caring for the land. That means working alongside animals to nurture native plants, clear forest areas to make existing trees healthier, and create habitats for birds, pollinators, and wildlife.  And that means becoming attentive and thoughtful - to animals and to the land. Watching, learning, and yes, developing bonds with the habitats you’re nurturing and the animals that are helping you do so.  Is it sad to load up animals and take them to the butcher at the end of the season? Yes, it often can be. But I don’t feel guilty about it. I know that we’ve given them the best life possible, and that we’ve partnered with them to leave our farm better than we found it each year.  And if that doesn’t make sense, that’s okay. I’m not saying that everyone has to agree with me. I’d simply like to advocate for a way of farming and consuming meat that includes this experience - one of affection and bonding between animals and humans.  After all, this is one of the many ways we try to do things differently on our farm. We don’t want to just provide you with food that meets your standards - non-GMO, no vaccines, no antibiotics, grass-fed and pasture-raised.  We also want to help you reconnect with that food. And part of that is knowing the animals, hearing stories about them, and yes, maybe even having an emotional connection with them, despite the end goal of providing meat to you.

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