For Mother’s Day my husband took me to my grandparents’ farm. And when I say “farm,” I mean 110 acres that includes fields for growing crops, an old barn that used to house tobacco, woods where you can still see the old wagon trail if you look closely enough, and a creek that cuts through the valley and sparkles in the sun. You won’t find any farm animals and you won’t find a house any longer. That may not sound very exciting, but for me, it’s always just what I need. Being on the farm brings me such joy and peace. Sure, there’s a hint of sadness as I look at the place where the house used to stand and I remember all the wonderful memories we made there. Those memories keep me grounded, and the beauty of the fields and trees brings me peace. Todd and I enjoyed spending most of the day wading up the creek looking for geodes, agate, and any other interesting rocks we could find. As the afternoon began to wane and it was nearing time for us to go back home, I felt myself resisting. I couldn’t bring myself to get in the van and head home. Todd was patient and told me to take my time, so I took a lawn chair from the van and placed it in the space where the house used to be. I sat in silence and looked all around me as the sun shined down on the fields that were soon to be planted with summer’s crops. The birds were singing, the breeze was blowing gently–the day was just perfect. “I don’t want to leave,” I kept thinking. I went back to the van and grabbed my journal; I wanted to try to capture what I was feeling. I couldn’t understand why I was so hesitant to leave. Here’s a cleaned-up version of what I wrote…
Everywhere I look there is a memory of time spent here with my family. Sometimes it was as though I could almost see my grandparents again….my grandmother at the clothesline, pinning up towels to dry…my grandfather walking up the lane from his trip to the mailbox. Even though I never lived here, it feels like home. It feels like the safest place in the world, untouched by stress and worry and fear. Even grief doesn’t seem so heavy here, though it’s not as though all those emotions never walked across these fields. Of course they did. My grandfather lost his very young first wife here just after she gave birth to their daughter. My aunt lived here at home with her parents until she died from a brain tumor. My great aunt burned to death as she ran in fear with her apron aflame. And so many others suffered their own tragedies.
As the breeze gently touches my face it feels like it’s saying to me, “See–the world is bigger than you and your worries.” This land where my ancestors made a life for themselves was here long before they arrived and will be here long after I’m gone. And it’s ALL in God’s hands–the times, the seasons, the generations. God holds it all. I am firmly convinced that our indoor urban lives have cheated us of the lessons God wants to teach us in the great outdoors. When we are still, when we take the time to breathe in and ponder the wonder of the trees, the birds, the streams and fields, we realize just how small we are and how big God is. In the city, when we are surrounded by towering steel buildings, busy streets filled with noisy cars and multiple flashing lights, we are seeing the wonder of things that man has made. Certainly it’s amazing that God has given man the creative ability and knowledge to innovate and build, but those canyons of steel do not proclaim the glory of God in the way that the cathedral of His creation does. In fact, perhaps those city landscapes showcase the strength of man so much that whether we recognize it or not, they cause us to trust in ourselves and our own abilities to protect and provide. When I’m surrounded by only sky and fields and trees I’m free to fully realize my own smallness and appreciate God’s bigness. I am finally able to rightly see myself in light of God’s power and sovereignty. I’m able to fully see my need for Him.
I think there’s something inside all of us that longs to be in the great outdoors. Why else do they make all those Hallmark movies where the girl from the country moves to the city to chase the excitement but finally realizes her home (and her true love) is back in the country. Of course there are studies that both prove and disprove people are happier living in the country. And I’m not saying you can’t fully know or experience God if you live in the city. But I AM saying that if we don’t take time to be still and sit in the quiet beside a stream or meander through the forest, we might miss some valuable lessons about God. He teaches us about Himself through His creation. Psalm 19:1 says, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” Job 12:7-10 says, “But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”
“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” Romans 1:20
