Saturday, May 3, 2014
I live on a (very) small farm in Idaho and it is here, surrounded by wheat and alfalfa and apple trees, that my heart rests. My hands are busy with all that this land requires and provides. My legs ache and my eyes are weary at the end of long days. But my spirit sighs in contentment. It's milking time and I head out to the barn at sunset, pausing to take in the golden world around me. The evening breeze whispers of the creation of the world, our God speaking life into existence, and I'm carrying a milk pail. I'll fill the pail with rich cream and drink from it, nourishing my body for the service He created me for. This. This living from the land connects me to Him. His creation, His provision are tangible here. I can feel Him in the fields of grain and the dark earth that buries seeds and brings forth new life. I hear Him in the buzz of bees busily gathering their fill and in the rooster's crow. He created life and it surrounds me here. I am awed by the greatness, goodness, and glory of God.