Thursday, June 19, 2008
THE FARMER AND THE FLOODS.....
In 1993 when the 500-year flood came spilling water down the river-ways to the Mississippi, I thought I would never see such devastation in my lifetime again. My grand-daughter, Jennifer, was in college at Canton, Missouri and helped fill sandbags along with other student volunteers.
Here we are, once again seeing the power of nature and man’s inability to do much about it ….but trying to do something. I scanned the crowds filling sand bags and they were every age. The elderly sat on chairs which made it possible for them to help. Even after this, the second time around…..where farmers see their whole life floating away, their dead animals, the crops….all their buildings, their losses would feed the world for years. Still, they do not complain.
Years ago our pastor at the time told a story about farmers who were flooded out. The farmer stayed with his crops and animals as long as he could but eventually gave in to rescue. As he was in the boat looking at water that claimed his present life, he put his hand in his pocket and took out a handful of seeds. He looked at the seeds for a while and then put them back in his pocket. He was already looking forward to the next planting.
People who farm are tough. Nature stands between them and their vision of a good crop at the end of the growing season. Sometimes it is locusts, drought, too much rain, not enough rain, prairie fires, lightening strikes, diseased animals, an economic turn for the worse on Wall Street, sickness, death, injury from the farm equipment, terrible straight winds that lay the crops down, tornados that can suck up everything they have and toss it like a spoiled child at play…….as you know the list is endless and the farmer is at the mercy of all.
The farm is the last bit of Americana that doesn’t answer to unions, politics or any other influence. They decide things on Main Street down at the coffee shop where they discuss the possibilities and probabilities. They know each other, farm after farm, after farm. They respect each other and the brotherhood they exhibit is not in legal papers but a handshake and their good name.
God bless the farmers……they are special people and none of us could feed ourselves as well as the produce and products they bank their lives on. Show me a farmers face……it is chiseled from the wind, cold and heat. They don’t worry about the name of their clothing, they don’t worry about the lines that are embedded in their faces but they do worry America is getting too soft and corrupt.
Most all in America have come from the farming community. Some have gone to the cities, the Service or traveling it’s roadways. There is an old saying that is very true. You can take the boy out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the boy. They need our prayers and our help before Spring planting.
Essentially Esther
Here we are, once again seeing the power of nature and man’s inability to do much about it ….but trying to do something. I scanned the crowds filling sand bags and they were every age. The elderly sat on chairs which made it possible for them to help. Even after this, the second time around…..where farmers see their whole life floating away, their dead animals, the crops….all their buildings, their losses would feed the world for years. Still, they do not complain.
Years ago our pastor at the time told a story about farmers who were flooded out. The farmer stayed with his crops and animals as long as he could but eventually gave in to rescue. As he was in the boat looking at water that claimed his present life, he put his hand in his pocket and took out a handful of seeds. He looked at the seeds for a while and then put them back in his pocket. He was already looking forward to the next planting.
People who farm are tough. Nature stands between them and their vision of a good crop at the end of the growing season. Sometimes it is locusts, drought, too much rain, not enough rain, prairie fires, lightening strikes, diseased animals, an economic turn for the worse on Wall Street, sickness, death, injury from the farm equipment, terrible straight winds that lay the crops down, tornados that can suck up everything they have and toss it like a spoiled child at play…….as you know the list is endless and the farmer is at the mercy of all.
The farm is the last bit of Americana that doesn’t answer to unions, politics or any other influence. They decide things on Main Street down at the coffee shop where they discuss the possibilities and probabilities. They know each other, farm after farm, after farm. They respect each other and the brotherhood they exhibit is not in legal papers but a handshake and their good name.
God bless the farmers……they are special people and none of us could feed ourselves as well as the produce and products they bank their lives on. Show me a farmers face……it is chiseled from the wind, cold and heat. They don’t worry about the name of their clothing, they don’t worry about the lines that are embedded in their faces but they do worry America is getting too soft and corrupt.
Most all in America have come from the farming community. Some have gone to the cities, the Service or traveling it’s roadways. There is an old saying that is very true. You can take the boy out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the boy. They need our prayers and our help before Spring planting.
Essentially Esther
