The old farmer sits on his front porch swing, a smile slowly creeping across his face. His father before, and his father’s father walked these fertile fields.

He remembers the day that he stepped in and took their place. The fields of yellow wheat stretch as far as the eye can see, he sniffs the air, and smells the sweet scent coming off the tall rows of corn. His old eyes get misty, he’s been here all his life. This is where his and momma’s kids were born.

He loves this old farm, its been good to him. He knows this land like the back of his hand, every bush, rock, and tree. His dad once told him, “Son, this will all be yours someday, and it won’t come easy, you will have to work hard, because in this life nothing is free.”

He likes to bend down, take a handful of the rich, plowed dirt, hold it to his nose and smell the life giving land. His world is so peaceful, he stands almost in a trance as he runs his fingers through the black gold he holds in his hand.

In spring and summer the days grow long, and in the fall the days grow short, like an afternoon shower, all too soon they are gone.

He thinks back to the days when momma was here. But now she is only with him in prayer, he doesn’t like being alone. Momma gave him courage when his spirit was crushed, when it rained too much and the ground was too wet to plow or plant the seeds. He closes his eyes and he can feel her arms around him, saying, “Don’t worry honey, you and God together will somehow meet all of our needs.”

As long as he is alive, this land is not for sale, he owes that much to his ancestors, it is his duty. The world will be a poorer place without him, when he goes. But the land will attest to his being here, with all its grace and beauty. With callused hands, he will pass to his children, the old farm. With a trust for them to harvest it each year.

And when circumstances someday take him away, he will still watch over the fields and crops, because these are the dreams that he holds dear. And someday when the Book of Life closes on him, he will go out like a flowing mountain stream because all his life, all he ever wanted to be, was a farmer. And God smiled down on this humble man, and fulfilled his chosen dream.


By: Ned Nunn

 

Page Design By:

Grandson Matt


June 2005