Fall Harvest

Tonight I went on an outing. I went to attend a singles activity with church friends. A bonfire and hayride, to be exact. What I wasn't expecting was some amazing imagery along the way tonight.

We went to a farm almost an hour away from my home. I forget that while I'm in the city, the rural areas of Nebraska really aren't that far away. I saw the most breathtaking sunset on my drive down there. I had some quiet time to think and to ponder. As I drove south on Highway 50, I noticed some things. First, the corn. As it is dead and being cleared for the season, most cornfields are in the process of being clear cut--harvested. As I gazed at one particular field, I noticed that these tan-colored corn stalks were all permanently wind blow toward the east. They had been acted upon by nature's flow, the way the wind blows--and from west to east as all storms come in this part of Nebraska. Considering a stalk of corn starts out from seedlings in the spring, to an 8 ft stalk that is only a couple of inches thick in diameter, corn is something with which I'm always fascinated. I mean, if you understood how the wind blows and how these giant stalks still stand tall. Yet the tops end up having a definite direction with which they've been blown. Like they've been acted upon and have no other choice but to be moved a bit.

I kept on driving. I saw a sign for the Sarpy County impound lot. To this day, I'm not completely positive that this is where Adam's car went after the crash. But I'm pretty sure it did while insurance and things were settled and the criminal investigation was completed. As I passed this sign, I wondered if this is where it went. And then I saw the name of the road. Fairview.

I don't whine or murmur or whatever term one wants to use for my complaints. I mean, I DO...but I don't complain like I once did. Things feel different now. But I found the name of this street fascinating. I drove on rolling hills. Some of my most favorite places on the planet where there are farms and beautiful farm homes that dot the horizon, corn, grain bins, and combines. I love this drive. If one stays in the city and never stops to take a drive and realize what else exists, the view that one sees is not fair. It can be downright ugly. But atop these hills, perspective changes. It isn't only fair. It is right and it is just. It is exactly what I feel about my life. This is where I'm supposed to be right now, doing exactly what I'm doing, in the right space in time, with Adam right where he is. It is a fair view.

Then I saw a sign for the town of Manley. While not spelled "Manly," I just thought this was funny.

It was cold out. And windy (of course). We went for a long hayride. Away from the city lights, it reminded me of the many times, with and without Adam, that I have gazed into the sky and been amazed by the stars and their beauty. When one is in the darkest of dark outside with nothing to cling to, it is interesting how bright the stars feel. We sometimes need to feel even the smallest of spiritual rebirth when things are the darkest we can imagine.

On the ride home, I noticed something I'd never seen before. I have only seen a combine harvester during the daytime at work, cutting down the tall corn stalks. It never occured to me that they could work at night, in the dark, with just the small headlights on the combine. That somehow, those lights would be enough. I never thought it was possible to work at night in a field.

I never thought I could do any of what I"m doing right now. I never thought I could mow a yard and tend to the outside of a home. But I am. I never thought I could raise children on my own. But I am. I never thought I could be a full-time, working, solo mom. But I am. I never thought I could survive long-term without living close to family. But I am. It is all possible. Maybe not ideal. Maybe not something that I want to do. Maybe not something that I do cheerfully or gratefully. But it is possible.

Heavenly Father doesn't make us choose. We get to do something about our corn stalks after they've been blown one direction. He gives us a way to see the good in the world, and helps us realize that we don't always get a spot light to tell us what to do or how our life will proceed. But he gives us little bits of light to make it through. Lastly, he gives us a light in order to work through the night, to get through life with the most important things we need--he helps us get through all the stuff, all the changed plans, hopes, and dreams in order to continue through each day, reaping the harvest that we need so desperately to place before us. The harvest is upon us.