God's Work

          “Farming is God’s work.”  That’s what Pappy used to say as we rode through the fields on a warm spring day, ready to take on any piece of broken fence that needed mending.  He’d drive down to the farthest field in his ’84 Dodge Ram, Pirates’ baseball blasting from the radio, and sit on the tailgate as Grammy, Brody and I worked on the fence.

            After years of farm work, I think I finally understand what he meant. 

            With spring upon us, the farm work has begun.  The barn needs mucked, fence mended, and grass mowed in the very near future.  Soon we’ll till the garden and plant the seeds.  The springhouse, home to the weed whackers and push mowers, must be organized, and the barn doors are begging to be repaired. 

            Life on the farm doesn’t stop.  It’s constant.  Especially during the warmer months. 

            If we stop, the farm falls apart.  If we leave the mess in the barn, Bubba the Bull doesn’t have a home.  If we refuse to mow, weeds overtake the fields, obstructing the grass from growth.  To have a successful harvest, the garden must be kept clean of weeds and animals.  It’s not easy, but we can’t be lazy and allow the brokenness to continue.  We must act.  It requires our all.

            Hard work. 

Dedication.  

Responsibility.   

We reap what we sow.