Monday, June 16, 2014

Fencing With My Farmer. . . The Poor Man

The grass is growing and fencing needs to be done.

The farmer heads out. 
He's been to church, out to lunch and had a little down time reading. 
But now it's back at it. 
After awhile I call to check and see how he is. 
He's headed across the river. 
I tell him to wait, I'll go with him.
I throw on my jeans and a t shirt, put on my boots and head out the door. 
The wind, gentle. The sun; warm. 
I meet up with him at the river crossing. 
He drives the tractor over. 
It's been years since we have worked like this together. 
I have missed our times. 
I breathe deep. 
(Probably not a good idea)
It is not long before my allergies kick in.
I had taken my medicine.
I walk through the (waist high on me) grass,  pulling wire.
I can feel my eyes start to itch.
I ignore it and keep pulling.
Why didn't we do this in the fall?
Why didn't we pull up this fence.
This is such a waste of time. 
The river floods every year. The fence needs to be removed.

It is then I remember.
Between a sneeze and an itchy, runny nose. 
We were grieving.
We were walking into a journey with cancer.
I continue to pull sections of wire out of the grass.
The farmer is now half way around the field.
His long legs an asset in this lush field.
I head back to the tractor.
I will receive the award for most pathetic farm wife. 

I gaze out over this breath taking (literally) view. 
Each one of those flowers is out to get me. 

I do love this farm.
 I close my eyes (to ease the burning) and revel in the quiet. 
I think of the verse in Isaiah. 

Isaiah 55:12
You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; 
the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, 
and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

They will clap their hands.
The imagery, stirring.
All of creation waits for the return of the Savior.
This is what God created.
The temples and Churches all God inspired - but man made.
All this inspired by the Creator -  made by the Creator.
I wipe the runny nose.
I squint through the burning eyes.

The memories of years gone by circle my mind. 
Elijah was my farmers fencing buddy of late. 
No need for me. 
My eyes take in the landscape. 
The earth that misses it's farm boy. 

These woods echo with the sounds of forts and a civilization the kids built years ago.
Remnants of lean to's and other structures visible.
We head back to my car because I really am miserable.
My farmer carries on as he always done.
Through death, cancer depression.
I turn the car toward home.
I sneeze.
My eyes water.
I thank God for memories.

I am Grateful For:

Time with my farmer
17 years
Legacy of love
Pain that helps you grow
One step in front of the other
Friends and Neighbors who continually hold us in their hands
The God of the Universe who is fighting each day for my weary, weary soul
The gift of our children
A grand daughter that gives love a new definition

1 comment:

  1. Oh my, chuckling and dabbing tears (pathetic farm wife, indeed!).