“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as if working for the Lord." ~ Col. 3:23
She rocked on her back porch in the early morning sun
pondering younger times. Amid the wheat and the golden ears, the wind orchestrated
the prairie’s fresh air, loamy soil, and delicate birdsongs.
Life on the farm in the 1940s brought many gifts - exercise,
responsibility, and passion, love, and respect for its land and animals (like a
pet rooster named Cockeye). Farmers were a unique group of people not found
anywhere else. Marie learned to think critically and to solve problems with
ingenuity. She enjoyed farm work, it never seemed routine or mundane.
Marie, now in her 80s, recalled a childhood of sweat, dirt, and manure. Everyone had chores. The hardest was picking corn by hand, but it was honest, noble, and character-building.
The day Dad bought a tractor-drawn, single-row picker
freed them from trudging through wet, cold leaves to pick and husk the ears. Finally,
they could retire those husking gloves.
Summer days began in light jackets. By day’s end, an old shirt with cut-off sleeves kept her cool.
After leaving the field, they unhitched the wagon, tended
to the horses, and precisely stored the halters so that they wouldn’t waste
time untangling them when they returned to work after dark.
The worst was having to go back to a full wagon - after the
evening meal, after chores, after milking, after caring for the horses - to
shovel out the corn. She didn’t mind though, Marie didn’t have to punch a
clock, be stuck within four walls, and serve bosses who took themselves seriously.
Finally, after a satisfying day of strenuous labor, she dropped
into bed and fell fast asleep knowing the day’s job got done. They’d start the
whole back-breaking process over again the next morning, long before sunrise by
hand-milking the cows and feeding the chickens.
Everyone bathed on Saturday evenings in the big tin tub.
Bath order was youngest to oldest. Dad always went last in the dingiest,
coldest water.
Restaurants, soft drinks, and packaged goods were not part
of their family menu. But those were wonderful times, and happy memories. Marie
knew that her kids were all positively influenced by the great people who surrounded
them as they matured.
There was simply no place like the farm.
COVID taught us to honor Labor Day in a new way. A whole group
of workers became recognized as essential: truck drivers, grocery stockers,
mechanics, and hospital dishwashers to name a few.
We’ve not forgotten to thank police and firefighters,
nurses and doctors, and first responders; but COVID forced us to honor people
who’ve never made more than minimum wage yet suddenly became irreplaceable - nurses’
aides, teachers, and now farmers.
On this day that we celebrate labor, let's not forget these
invaluable people again.
Almighty God and our planet’s Chief
Architect, thank You for the work You provide to each of us. Thank You also for
the enrichment we get through working for noble purposes and diverting our
minds from selfish desires. Amen
