Not the Long Liver

I could never have imagined how being here on the farm midst the great creation of God could have such a powerful impact on my life.  It is humbling to walk about the land and wrestle with it in working it for I realize that I am not the first and, hopefully, not the last to discover life on the land.  An old abandoned wood frame farm house built around 1910 still stands as a monument to those families who have come and gone.  Every now and again from the dirt comes some relic of living from the past to remind me that I am only here for a short span of time.  Others have been here ahead of me.  And other will follow me.    

And even as there is often a sense of the presence of others around me, so are there reminders that things like the old farmhouse are the real long livers around here.  Such can also be said about the hundred year old pecan trees planted long ago around the old house and the towering white barked sycamore trees down on the edge of the branch that stretch toward the heavens and continue to watch over those like me who walk still in their shadows.  If one were to fall tomorrow, its death would bring some sadness to my soul since they have been here so long and have so many stories to tell.    

I could never have imagined how being here in this season of my life would remind me again and again that my days are among those numbered by the Creator who brought me here.  Life is fragile.  Even though I have been around now over seven decades, my time in the creation is short and one day I shall join the rest of creation as it goes back to the earth again.  There was a time in younger days when I was sure I was in charge of my life.  How foolish it was to live under such an illusion.  The Creator is in charge and I am blessed to spend each day inside the magnificent order He has put in place all around me.