My Gentle Barn (41 page)

I also recognized that my relationship with the Gentle Barn had shifted. At the very beginning, I
was
the Gentle Barn. The Gentle Barn did not exist without me, and I felt I couldn’t exist without it. But the success or failure of my organization was no longer riding entirely on my shoulders. Neither was I the only one reaping the joys and triumphs of the work we did. My little organization had grown up and become so much bigger than me. The Gentle Barn had a life of its own. It was time for me to open my hands and let it fly. For it no longer belonged to me; it now belonged to the world.

I took my dogs out into the spring afternoon for a walk. We hiked up the hill behind our house, waist-high in wild grasses sprinkled with purple and yellow flowers. A full year had passed since the backyard-butcher rescue, and all the animals pulled from that place were healthy and thriving. At the top of the hill I sat down, and my dogs romped around me through the grass. The air was just right, warm with a light breeze, and the long shadows of late afternoon fell across the terrain. I gazed out over the Gentle Barn, dotted with barns and sheds and held in the deep green embrace of the pepper trees, finally coming to maturity. The animals, just finishing up their dinner, congregated around their feed bins, searching for any missed bits of food. In that moment, as the sweet air caressed my face, it dawned on me how truly happy I was.

I was in love with, and now married to, my best friend, and we had
mastered the art of running a business and raising a family together. My parents and I were getting along better than we ever had, and they had come to see the importance of my work and were actually proud of my accomplishments. And the Gentle Barn was flourishing. Every year, we rescued hundreds of abused animals and helped hundreds of at-risk kids. We had 170 animal residents, and that number was slowly growing. Our fleet of volunteers had reached a thousand. Hundreds of visitors showed up at our gates every Sunday, and well over 200,000 fans followed us on Facebook. People supported us and came and visited from every corner of the world.

Yet the happiness I felt was not from some outside source. It emanated from the center of my being. I no longer had to go outside myself to find that still, deep feeling of peace and contentment—not to men or a substance or even into the woods or a field full of butterflies. That feeling was now inside me; it had become part of the fiber of my being. I felt like I was covered in butterflies every day.

The healing was complete.

That didn’t mean my work was done. To the contrary. I wanted more than ever before to share this gift with the world. I wanted as many people as possible to receive the healing power of hugging a cow or giving a pig a tummy rub or meeting the gaze of an animal and feeling truly seen. These animals had healed me, and I had witnessed countless others being healed too. Now I wanted to share the healing on a much grander scale. I had begun a plan to open Gentle Barns all across the nation—and eventually all across the globe. If everyone had the chance to connect with animals, perhaps they would come to understand something I had been fortunate enough to know all my life. That we may all look different on the outside, but on the inside we’re all the same.

With Gentle Barns all over the globe, in just one generation, perhaps the world will become a kinder place.

Please visit us at
www.gentlebarn.org
.

First and foremost, I would like to thank my husband, Jay. He is my partner, my best friend, my soul mate, and my other half. He sees me, he understands who I am and what makes me tick, and he has sacrificed everything for my dream. He is a great friend, a wonderful father, and a hero, working by my side to save animals who have no one else and nowhere else to go. I always wanted this life and this dream, but I didn’t know I would have someone to share it with. Thank you, Jay, I am so grateful!

I want to thank my children, who have been very patient with me, and who have at times not lived the most normal lives. They have tolerated late nights, early mornings, farm animals in the house, and animal emergencies that have taken us all over the country. Molli, Jesse, and Cheyanne, you inspire me, make me want to be a better human being, and teach me every single day—I love you!

I would like to thank my agent, Sasha, who has been with me since the beginning, and who was the catalyst for this book. You are so easy to talk to and always know what to do. You made this process easy. I would like to thank Nomi, who got inside my head, found my voice, and enabled me to tell my story—thank you! I never imagined it could be so fun to write with someone else; you are a true artist, a genius, and I can’t wait to start writing our second book! Thank you so much to the great folks at Crown: Mauro, Leah, Amanda, Ellen, Christina, and the rest of the team who helped us structure the book and make it wonderful. You all are so good at what you do; I thought we made a great team and it has been an honor, a privilege, and a blast working with you. I have enjoyed each delicious moment of this process!

To my parents and friends, thanks for believing in me, for loving me, and for sticking with me, always!

Ellie Laks was born in Israel and raised in the States. She has always loved animals and from the time she could walk she headed into the woods daily to be with them, sometimes bringing them home—much to her parents’ chagrin. In 1999, Ellie founded the Gentle Barn, an animal sanctuary that rescues and rehabilitates severely abused and neglected farm animals. Once the animals are healthy, they help Ellie heal at-risk, inner-city, and special-needs children. Ellie lives on the property outside of Los Angeles with her husband, who runs the Barn with her, and their three children. Learn more at
www.gentlebarn.org
.