In the earliest of mornings, well before the sun would pierce the fog, a man bent to gather the harvest, and my heart began to fall in love. Growth occurred, and roots formed - in the gardens, as well as our spirits. The acres of wooded foothills, the barn, creek, and valley full of crops weaved their place into us. A love-story was birthed, as many seeds of hope sprouted in the sun.
As dreamers, we knelt upon the softest soil, and asked God to use the land for His best good. Secretly, we had visions and wishes for it to someday become a place of refuge for all people, the homeless, fatherless and seekers of the world.
It's been years now, but it's really something to see where the rivers of life take us. When it was least expected, I've been suddenly brought back to this exact patch of earth, with the opportunity to do what I'd always dreamed of: work the land & take in children, while leading a simple, quiet life. Only now, it is bittersweet, for the man I love is no longer beside me.
Perhaps I imagined, all-too vividly the things that we'd see nourished and cultivated over the passing years. I'd dreamed of waking up early and making morning pancakes, and watching all the fruit trees we'd plant flower in springtime, and bear late summer fruit. I'd looked forward to a life alongside the one I loved, embracing whatever the seasons and sky would bring us.
It's hard now, to think about waking everymorning to look out at the patch of land where our peach tree never grew to see the autumn sun. Or the empty spot under the branches by the wheatfield where the swing does not hang. I'll surely hear the echos of his songs, when the wind sweeps the canyon, and remember the poems we wrote of the trees. If I ever loved a landscape, I love it a thousand times more because the gold of him that resides in the dusty ground.
Things are still pending, but I'm finding myself in a place I never expected to be - with a heart simultaneously so happy and so sad.
The other day, I drove absently to the Farm, and parked my car at the top of the hill. Immediately, tears began forming, as I ran towards the pathway, to find MUSTARD growing taller than my head. I waded deeper into it, as I told myself, when we are faithless, He remains Faithful. I must remind myself, that the best thing about the Farm, has always been God's Spirit, silently speaking by way of a million miracles in each blade of grass, and the love He has for every wistful soul walking through the reeds. Even in sorrow, He is worth trusting...
No matter what has happened or will happen, He continues to have a Good plan; for through every season it is Him that enables us to see the deepest beauty in things, and for that I will always be thankful, and seek to open my eyes.
2 years ago