Crazy title, crazy thing,
I always wanted to be a farmer.
Daddy had a garden several years, in the big back yard of the nicest home we lived in, in the narrow yard of the old house in the sketchy neighborhood, the westside of town.
And in the country, the furrowed rows could be seen from my window in the place where my children and I lived next to them, my mama and daddy.
All around us were other bigger fields.
My cousin worked them every year.
Soybeans, corn, peanuts, the rotation.
And wheat, the swaying stalks the place where my little girl loved to escape.
Just in front, sandy dirt, easily bogged down road that required us to memorize the ruts, there was cold and quiet digging at the end of the day, old bent silver spoons stirred up cakes and castles for both of my children back then.
We were never farmers but we saw the life.
We learned from the living.
We knew that the rain could ruin a crop and the lack of it, the same.
2019 was a year of breaking up my land, fine deep uprooting of long decayed seeds that needed to be give up on.
Crops that were meaningful but not so beneficial saw my surrender to possible new yields.
New seeds were planted and I was faithful even if my faith like a worried farmer sat and cynically muddled over what wasn’t growing.
Waited and accepted the harvest that came and set the mind on plowing down what didn’t produce and waiting til the season said yes to make new furrowed places and drop new seed.
I grew in new ways in 2019, struggle, surrender, stubborn decisions to live differently.
Differently as in not giving up on the possibility of new thoughts, new ways.
Rejecting the idea that nothing could ever grow strong through the work of my words and my hands.
Deciding not to let my fields become a wasteland, instead allow the painful turning over of my ground, the destruction of old roots making space for new planting.
“reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to seek the Lord, till he come and rain righteousness upon you.”
Hosea 10:12 KJV
Months ago, I heard someone recite this verse and it simply would not let me go.
I began to grow slowly then.
Slowly being okay with waiting.
Surrender is a strong decision not a flag marking a quitter.
Surrendered ones keep going.
Taking in the nourishment given to me by songs, sermons, scripture.
Quiet, underneath like the soil.
My soul began and is still growing towards the embrace of the truth of the mercy and love of Jesus.
I wondered this morning if rushing towards Jesus, of standing up and saying I believe and not realizing it takes time to grow is a deterrent.
Do we decide not to believe fully because we expect to have a burst of understanding, an all of a sudden plentiful harvest of walking by faith in glorious fields?
I wonder if that causes us to doubt Jesus.
Nothing growing, we quit planting, we stop watering.
Just a thought.
And again, a mindset for me,
Just continue LT.
Continue and believe.
Because of mercy, Amen.
What has been planted, have you planted so far?
One thought on “Belief in Farming”
Loved this Lisa. Esp “We learned from the living.”