It is the “reddening” of the day, when the sun has begun its relentless descent into evening.
The brilliance of the approaching sunset mellows in a fragrant haze of ripening fields of barley and wheat.
It is then that a renewed realization of the hand of God settles on farmers, who ready themselves for harvest. They prepare themselves for the inevitable solitude, where they will converse in silent prayer with their Father, thanking him, and seeking his wisdom — behind the windshields of their combines.
“Will there be enough to pay the bills?” they wonder.
“Thank you, God, for the bounty, not only of the crop but also for family—my wife, my parents and grandparents before me, who have led me to my role as a farmer.”
“And for my children, where hopefully I have planted the best seeds and nurtured them toward a bumper crop.”
Indeed the time for silent thoughts and prayers comes with harvest.
And other thoughts: “Don’t raise the truck-box under the wires, Johnny!”
The next morning the sun dawns warm, and the preparation again is under way. The bins are cleaned, the sickles are sharp, the threshing bars are set with the concaves, and the sieves are opened for the right amount of wind to bring in a clean and pure crop.
God commands our best to bring in the grains that will feed God’s world. With each turn of the wrench and each pump of the grease gun, we do God’s work to provide for “the least of our brothers.”
At noon, dressed in the clothing befitting this type of church, they climb the steps to the “church pew” in their combines and bring the harvest home. The time for thought gives way to the mechanics of the task at hand. Muscle and steel bring in the sheaves.
Again as the sky reddens and evening approaches, the parishioners, dusty and weary, turn to God with thanks for the bounty, concerns for the future and a peace that comes with good toil. And they sincerely pray:
“That the work of our hands may be enough. Enough for our world, and enough for our family. Thank you, God, for letting me be a farmer.”
This week's front page features:
In the Wangerin 'kinder-garten': Planted for grandchildren, trees bear life and love into the future. (Photo at right.)
Andrea Pohlmann (right) blogs about the recent spate of school shootings.
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