"I would not, could not, in the rain.
Not in the dark. Not on a train.
Not in a tree. Not in a car.
God, just let me be!"
Wonder if Doc Seuss ever realized how accurately he summed up man's response to God. Or God's response to man. With a relentless, creative, patient love He tries to show our stubborn selves something amazing and fantastic.
"You do not like it so you say.
Try it! Try it! And you may.
Try it and you may I say."
The decision is ours, and guess what happens when we finally concede...yup, He was right. Again. It gets annoying sometimes. He always wins the argument. Then again if God was losing arguments to me He really wouldn't be worth following. Just saying.
Man, I've been awake waaay to long. I'm seeing theology in Green Eggs and Ham and I haven't even read the book recently!!!
If this seems to be random that's because it is. I'm not even sure how I arrived at this point at 11 pm. But I did.
And now it's sleep time. Good night world.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Work Code Trumps Campus Rules
Today I wore a red polo and had a blue handkerchief hanging out of my pocket. I consider myself an equal opportunity wearer of all "gang" colors.
I also get to carry and use my knife at work. Gotta love hardware stores.
I also get to carry and use my knife at work. Gotta love hardware stores.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Hot Beds, Hypocrisy, and a Forehead Flick
It’s hot bed season. What used to be one of my least
favorite seasons as a high schooler. Where I understood the reason, I greatly
disliked having to leave right after church, change clothes and uncover the hot
beds. Moving sandbags and rolling muddy, wet plastic was not what I wanted to
do on Sunday before lunch. (Putting the plastic back is easier as long as there
isn’t any wind. If it’s windy it’s like trying to “hold the waves upon the sand”).
Recently I’ve heard a lot of people talk about farming in nostalgic
terms. Truthfully, living in the country and growing up on a farm is great!
Nothing can beat the feeling of moist, freshly tilled soil between your bare
toes. But I think the labor associated with farming is lost. There’s a reason
so many people get off the farm, it’s a lot of work for questionable results. You
never know if you’re going to have a good crop and good price or not. It’s been
said, “Farming is the greatest gamble of all.”
Think of it this, way,
if you have a plant it needs to be taken care of; it needs sunlight and water
and good nutrient rich soil. Now a
plant, like a child, doesn’t just need water and sunlight on a random, when I
feel like it basis. If it doesn’t get what it needs, it dies. So you have to
water it several times a week. If you decide to go on vacation you need to get
someone to water that plant, otherwise it could die. Even when you take care of
a plant, they don’t always make it.
Now multiply that one
plant by about 200 and you have the basics of farming. It doesn’t matter if it’s
the weekend, the weathers crappy; you want to go on vacation or are sick, the plants
still need to be taken care of. As the farmer, you have to take care of them; it’s
in your best interest. (Shocking concept I know).
When hot bed season rolls around, Dad get’s understandably
on edge. If you’re not careful, it’s really easy to burn a bed. There’s a fine
balance between keeping the beds warm enough and letting the excess heat
escape. (That’s why we open and close them). I am a farmer’s daughter that
means if I can help Dad relax by opening hot beds I will; this is what I do, for
better or worse, in sickness or health. And neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow,
nor wind shall deter from doing what needs to be done.
Which is why, Sunday mid-morning found me sick and barefoot,
in a white dress shirt and rolled up jeans, opening the ends of three rows of hot beds. Normally
I rejoice at opening ends, because it’s easy; you only have to move one sand
bag instead of 5 billion and roll a little plastic. I usually run from one end
of the bed to the other enjoying the warm moist dirt. However when you’re not
feeling well, a simple task can become an event rivaling Armageddon.
My frustration grew and I, who had just served communion at church,
found myself cursing as I wrestled with the uncooperative plastic and
clothespins, telling it where it could go to get a warm reception. All while
being as careful as possible to keep mud from splattering on my church clothes
of course. The shirt came out ok, the pants; let’s just say Nicole keeping
jeans clean is a lost cause…
Shortly after my outburst the humor of the situation hit me
and I began to compose this, for others to enjoy the irony and hypocrisy of my
life.
As I was driving home bits of a verse from James 3 popped into my head; “9 With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God’s likeness. 10 Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be. 11 Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? 12 My brothers, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water.”
It was a flick in between the eyes. I had recognized my hypocrisy, but instead of being dismayed I was amused. Strike 2. It was then a choice was offered, do nothing and take a third strike or step up to the plate, swing the bat and admit there’s actually a problem that needs to be fixed.
I don’t like to strike out, (even if I do it on a regular basis), so this entry is a confession; a confession of hypocrisy and a lack of humility. For when my sin was pointed out, I laughed and I didn’t regret it. Not the brightest way to respond to the all Powerful, very Creative God. For that I am sorry m’Lord. Your chastising should not be slighted and taken as a joke.
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