Even When Alone in the Cab, A Farmer is Never Alone in the Fields
This is Bob Lehman, a neighbor of ours just a few miles away. He and my Dad have known each other for years and, though none of the ground we farm adjoins Bob's, still he and we are members of that steadily shrinking number of folk who can claim that, indeed, they are farmers. The vocation names them together, the isolation identifies them singularly: They may all be doing the same task at the same time, but there is only one who farms the fields you farm, the way you farm them, with the interest and commitment with which you approach it. When you are running the combine, you - and only you - are responsible for the outcome.
Drive by any field being harvested. Ever notice stalks of corn standing where the rest of row is gone? Or a strip of wheat in the middle of a pass? Or a short row of soybeans standing where none others are left? Did you ever wonder why that happened? Only the farmer knows for certain, but perhaps it was a rogue wedge row or volunteer stalks which came up between the rows. Maybe it a farmer's heart that saw a redwing blackbird nest hanging precariously between the stalks of wheat or maybe it was the place a fawn was resting or a skunk was moving or a rabbit was running or a covey of quail was moving . . . or maybe the eyes of the operator just got heavy. Only heaven and the farmer knows, but everyone driving by watching the solitary farmer will cast a judgment. The farmer knows that, too, and, depending on the situation and answer, chooses to move on or to go back as appropriate. They alone are responsible . . . well, almost alone.
This is the part that always puts a lump in my throat. Very few are the farmers who operate completely autonomously, most have family and neighbors who, even if they are not directly in the field with them, they are always with them in the field. Like the God who never leaves us, as the Christ who walks the path with us, as the Spirit who guides our steps, family . . . and the very best of neighbors . . . are always there looking out over the croplands through the eyes of the farmer as they perform each operation. From the first pass in the Spring through the last pass in the Fall before the equipment is rested for the Winter, though alone in the cab, it is the prayers, love and passion for the land which surrounds every farmer through every acre and sustains their spirit through every heartache and joy.
When you look at Bob in the cab of his combine see, too, his loving wife, Imogene, and their children and grandchildren. No, they are not at the controls, but they are in his heart. They may not be making the decisions, but they are shaping the choices. They may not steer the machine, but they give direction to the one who does. You are never far from home, regardless how far away the farm you are tending.
I think that is how God envisions life with all of us: We are the stewards of God's creation, yet God is Steward of our Creation. God is tending to us in all of our moments, days and years. We see only ourselves in the mirror, but the greater Community of the Kingdom surrounds us all in the care we share with one another. We may sit in the cab alone, but we are never alone in the work. It is God in us who completes and refines the relationship, nudging us when we are complacent, rejoicing with us in our accomplishments and honing towards perfection those things which need more of our attention. We are seemingly one, yet with many layers of Love holding us together.
Thank you, Bob, for your steady hands, your generous heart and your faithful soul which are just as comfortable on the seat of your combine, at the controls of your tractors or soaring in the skies. You are a gift of God among us, a farmer who understands and humbly lives in the blessings you are privileged to share by God, your family and your friends around you. You are noticed, more than you know, and loved and valued even more. This is what God tells us in Jesus. So you tell us in the way you live. Thank you.
