Family testimonies about Cultivating Hope Farms and a little history about the farm.

“I have a daughter who was recently diagnosed with level 1 autism. She has always had a strong love for animals, so I thought that a visit to cultivating hope would be perfect for her. My daughter struggles with communicating, but within the first few minutes of being at the farm Della was talking to tank, the pony, like crazy. Della was able to walk tank around, feed the animals, and just spend some time within a calm environment. The staff at cultivating hope has been wonderful. I was honestly worried if we would fit in, because Della is not considered high need on the autism spectrum, but they made us feel like we belonged, like we were a part of the family. After just one visit to the farm, I know that it will be something we continue to do. It really brought my daughter out of her shell and she has not stopped talking about Tank and the other animals. This farm truly cultivated hope within my own heart that my daughter can go on to live a happy and fulfilled life despite her diagnosis.”

Before discovering Cultivating Hope Farms, we struggled finding the right type of therapy for our son.  When we first looked into CHF our original plan was temporary, just for the summer.  After spending a little time at the farm, I quickly realized it wasn’t just for my son.  It was for me too.  Having that extra support from other families (or animals) is life changing.  Cultivating Hope Farms really has created the most nurturing community with their farm and they make you feel like a part of the family.

Just getting our son outdoors and used to the farm took time, routine, and lots of snuggles with the cats and kittens.  Then he held a baby piglet and something in him seemed to change.  He is now thriving on the farm and doing things that we could never have imagined him doing.  We see him doing chores, jumping bales of hay, getting in the pig pen and hand feeding Sally the sow.  Most importantly he’s making friends.  He says he feels all warm inside when he’s on the farm.  As his mother watching him, I feel all warm inside too.

There are days I wonder what it would be like to be the parent of only neurotypical kids. To be able to go anywhere without having to worry about remembering sound-cancelling headphones, communication devices, advanced planning on whether there is a suitable place to change your school-aged child’s diaper because they obviously aren’t able to use an infant’s changing table. To not have to scout out any new location you haven’t previously been yet to assess for elopement and safety concerns that need to be addressed beforehand. For us, wondering about a life like that is the equivalent of wondering what you would spend the money on if you won the lottery or where you would travel if you could go anywhere in the world. That just isn’t ever going to be our reality. Every person has their struggles to bear with in life and I’m not stupid enough to think anyone else’s grass has less weeds than ours. Some actually have more and I know that. The isolating part that compounds the struggle and loneliness is in the fact our weeds are a unique variety that most don’t have experience with. I don’t know any mom that can’t relate to their toddler acting a fool because you broke their banana when you peeled it or the preteen sass. It’s not difficult to find your ‘village’ in the mamas who can relate to kids not wanting to do their homework, hating to eat everything you cook, or fighting with their siblings. That camaraderie of just knowing you aren’t alone; the chance to laugh some of that stress off with someone who ‘gets it’ is sometimes what gets us through it. But when there is no one around that gets your struggle? No one to relate to your despair when you have children who continue to eat non-food items that aren’t safe for consumption when left unsupervised? No one who understands that feeling when you can’t have anything hanging on your walls or furniture that isn’t anchored to the wall for safety? When there is no crowd of moms who can say, “Girl, my daughter is so terrified of using public restrooms that she screams and scratches me just to get the hell out of the stalls as fast as she can, too.” We don’t have anyone who laments how it feels to not even be able to go to church together as a family anymore because there is no place for your children to go. So, so lonely. Even in a crowd of people, it’s hard not to feel completely alone. The list of how many others can relate to the daily life with low-functioning, severe autism is close to nil, especially in this rural of an area. The few years that autism has been a part of our life has taken a toll on every single aspect. We are a family and we know that God is good so we work together; we adjust however necessary, and we keep pushing on through the difficult as we hold on desperately to the good. Some days the “good” is just appreciating the way your son finally relaxes into you and lets you hold him after an intense meltdown that left you both hurt and crying. People tell me I’ve changed and that’s true. I’m not sure if they mean that in a good way or a negative one but I don’t honestly know anyone who could experience life in this way and not have it change them in some way or another.