❤️ An IMPORTANT Letter to Our Beloved Community

Dear Friends, Family and FaRmily❤️,

Some letters take a long time to write because the words are hard to find. This one took a long time because the words are heavy. But they are also, we've come to realize, full of joy. So here it is, plainly, before anything else...

🏡We are not selling the farm. We are staying. We are home.

Let us please tell you how we got here...

Almost two years ago, we made the hardest announcement of our lives. We told you that after eleven beautiful years, we felt called — like Avraham — to "Lech Lecha," to go forth, to sell the farm, sail to Eretz Yisrael, and be a blessing somewhere else. We wrote that letter with love and tears (SO many tears), and you responded the only way you know how: with more love than we deserved.

And then we waited....and waited...and waited...

For a year and a half, the farm sat on the market. We prayed. We showed the property. We had a contract that fell through. We hoped, and we waited some more. And in our December letter, we wrote something that we meant with our whole hearts: "It's all in G-d's hands and His timing. If He wants us to leave soon, He will need to bring the right buyer."

FaRmily... Well, He didn't bring the buyer.

And we have come to accept — truly, finally, peacefully — that this IS the answer. Sometimes Hashem answers our prayers with an open door. And sometimes He answers by leaving the door closed, season after season, until we finally stop knocking and turn around to see the blessing we've been standing in the whole time.

We need to be honest with you about something else, too.

Many of you walked with us through Yosef's five-year battle with cancer — the hardest years of our lives. You prayed for us, you sent us to Mexico for treatment, you carried us. And what many people don't understand is that when the cancer battle ended (it never ends BTW), the waiting didn't. These last two years of limbo — farm for sale, bags packed in our hearts, one foot on the land and one foot on the boat, unable to fully plant and unable to fully leave — have been their own kind of trial.

Seven years of uncertainty is enough. Our family cannot live in limbo anymore. We need to be planted again. Fully. With both feet, whole hearts, and no "For Sale" sign hanging over our heads.

So we let our contract with our realtor expire, and we are not renewing it. And we want to be honest with you about this part as well: we will not be revisiting this decision.  Not next season, not next year. Putting this farm — this life, this community — on the market once was so emotional, so wrenching, that we simply cannot put our family or our FaRmily through it again. This is our home. Our intention is to be here, serving you, for the foreseeable future... and truthfully, our intention is forever. Only G-d knows the future — we learned that lesson well — but as far as it depends on us: we're done. We're staying. Period.

But wait — what about the dream? What about Lech Lecha, the boat, the great adventure?

Here is the part that makes us smile through the tears: The dream isn't dying. It's being handed down.

Our children (Asher, Aiden and Yisrael [next year: 21yo, 19yo,18yo]— the same kids who grew up between seedling trays, who grew up in the wash-pack and behind the market tables — are going to sail the world in our stead aboard Lech Lecha. The adventure we dreamed for our family will belong to the next generation of Camires, and honestly... isn't that how it should be? We raised them to work hard, to trust Hashem, and to go be a blessing. Now we get to watch them do it.

And don't worry about Imma and Abba missing out entirely — we'll be joining them in the Caribbean and warmer waters over the winters, when the fields here are resting under the snow. The farm gets our seasons of work; the sea gets our seasons of rest; and our children get their own chapter of the story.

To every one of you who prayed for our journey, who cried with us at the thought of goodbye, who quietly hoped we might stay — thank you. To those who were excited for us and cheered on the adventure — thank you, too. Every response you gave us came from love, and we felt all of it.

We're sorry for the rollercoaster. Truly. You have ridden every hill and valley of this thing right alongside us — the announcement, the waiting, the "maybe one more season" — and you never once let go of our hands. We don't take that for granted. We never will.

So here is what comes next: nothing. Wonderfully, blessedly, nothing. No countdown. No contingency plans. No "if we're still here." Just your farmers, on their farm, growing the purest food we know how to grow, for the community we love more than words in a letter or a million teardrops could ever express.

We went out like Avraham, we sought the blessing... and Hashem, in His kindness, showed us that the blessing was here all along. It was the soil. It was our children. It was you.

We love you. WE. LOVE. YOU. And we're not going anywhere.

Shalom & with love❤️,

Yosef, Havah & the whole Camire Family

Ahavah Farm - home, for good.

ps....anyone up for an Ahavah Farm festival ?