Noonday Notes

Issue No. 23

November 7th, 2025

There’s a rhythm I’ve been noticing lately. Between community and solitude. Both farms are full of life, we have volunteers on delivery days, and yet I have many hours of working alone among the crops. So much of the Noonday Farms mission is about connection: cultivating relationships, knowing our neighbors, feeding one another. And it’s happening. We are feeding 19 households, nearly our goal of 20. I am filled with awe and gratitude on the daily. Each harvest feels like a small miracle, one that begins in the soil and ends at someone’s table.

And yet, there’s another kind of miracle that happens in quiet solitude. The kind that blooms when no one else is around. On Wednesday evening I rode my cruiser bike over to the Grace Farm and ended up on the ground crying when I saw the first pea flower. But it wasn’t really about the flower; it was seeing this vision from a year ago come to life. In that still, lonely moment, it all just hit me.

Luke wrote that “Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.”  Luke 5:16 NIV

Solitude feels vital. Even Jesus, who carried the weight of healing, teaching, and gathering people together knew He needed solitude. Not as escape, but as renewal. It was in those quiet, hidden places that His strength was restored, His spirit anchored again in the Father’s love. Bruh.

I think about the balance of community and solitude a lot these days. How deeply we need both. Especially as we mentally prepare for the holiday season.

Community draws us out; solitude draws us in. One fills our hands; the other fills our hearts.

Maybe you’ve felt that tension too. The pull between the busyness of the season ahead and the quiet your soul is craving. The desire to show up for others, while also needing a moment to breathe.

As usual the farm has been teaching me that both are sacred. That the quiet hours spent weeding, harvesting, or watching the monarchs are what make the abundance possible later. The same is true for us. We can only keep pouring out when we’ve allowed ourselves to be filled again. With peace, with stillness, with the reminder that we are loved and held by a Creator who meets us in the silence.

So as we move toward the holidays, may we remember to seek those quiet places. Not to hide from the world, but to be rooted again in the One who sends us back into it with love.

Read the rest of the newsletter here.