I found myself rather unprepared to flip the calendar to October. I’m not really sure why it came as a surprise, but my September came and went in such a flurry. I suspect that the part of me who loves to relish in the beauty and serenity of crisp fall mornings and brightly displayed foliage, finds October to be bittersweet. While it does happen to hold my birthday, it also brings about the return of earlier evening darkness and more gray days that come along with it. I find myself with thoughts of Christmas gift planning and how to strive toward a more meaningful Advent already coming to the forefront of my mind, even before the dreaded white stuff flies. I guess I’m a glass half empty sort of gal come autumn. The carefree me wants to hold tightly to the days of summer gone by, missed opportunities and bucket list things we just didn’t get around to this year. The practical side of me says that all these things pass and as the leaves turn and drop, there will also be good times to warm ourselves indoors and reconnect as a family again.
This year I’ve found myself ever more aware of harvest and the weather for farmers. While I am not a farmer myself, we live in an area where large farms are the norm and their operations are enormous. What hard work and endless hours they toil and labor! I’m not sure I’ve ever appreciated and marveled at their commitment and tenacity as I have lately. On the blustery days while I’ve sat inside tending to my tasks, they are dodging rain days and missing out on some of their own precious family time. The massive tractors, combines and semis that pass by provide a constant flow of loud traffic by our home these days. Everywhere I drive in our area, another field is being turned over, beans and corn harvested and day or night, equipment is making its path.
While I sat with the weekend before me, I was overwhelmed by my own harvesting and labor yet to be done. There are apples to be turned into applesauce and canned pie filling, many gallons of frozen tomatoes that I stockpiled during picking await becoming spaghetti sauce, soup and tomato sauce and the squash needs to be baked, scooped and frozen. Thankfully, the potatoes sit in the corner of the garage just waiting for consumption and don’t need any immediate attention. I needed to stop myself for a moment and thank God for His bounty this year. Although my garden did seem to lack in the thriving department based on seven mouths to feed, I at least had the land, time and knowledge to grow a garden. Maybe the harvest wasn’t in abundance, but it will be a welcome gift during the winter months when I can go to my freezer or canning cupboard and pull out something that God helped me to grow.
When I actually stopped to think about all of this goodness and thank God for it, despite its potential failure, a small piece of perspective gave me a clearer view. If I consider the hard work of the farmer, rather than details like how the soybean harvest leads to an influx of lady beetles in my home, I find a different view that sees the hard work of the landowner. I come to recognize better that my work is not my own. My work is His work. Together, we share in this labor of love, but we all most likely benefit from it as well.