A Season of Blessing

The house here at the farm has become my home.  It is a simple place.  Very simple.  Perhaps, not so in the beginning, but over the years it has become a symbol of how God is calling me to live.  Simple, of course, is a relative word.  The fourteen hundred square foot home in which I live would be considered extravagant by some villagers of Uganda whom I have seen recently through the words of a Franciscan missionary.  At the other end of the spectrum, there are surely those who think it would be an impossible place to live.  For me it has become a good fit.  It is a visible call to simplify.  

One of the luxuries of my home is a ten by twelve porch out front.  This week in a way that has been special God has used it to bless my heart.  A few days ago a neighboring farmer and friend spent an hour or so sitting on the porch sipping a glass of ice water and chewing the fat.  Another day that same porch became a place to watch and feel the rain coming across the hay field and last night it provided a front row seat to a glorious full moon rising.  Certainly, it was not a trip to see the wonders of the world in far away places, but no one can convince me that I have not in the last few days seen and experienced wonders of the world.   

It is a good thing to be rooted somewhere.  It is a good thing to live in a place that invites me to live the slower life.  Here at the farm, things do not happen in a hurry.  The hay harvested yesterday took months to grow as did the pecan crop which hangs heavy in the trees.  I am sure there have been many who have wanted to live leaving their mark on the world, but here in this simple place I have learned that it is the Creation of the Heavenly Father that is leaving its mark on me.  It is a season of contentment and gratitude.  It is a season of blessing.