In the midst of our busiest time on the farm I found my thoughts one morning feeling a little overwhelmed and my heart with guilt.
The guilt for not praying enough. The overwhelmed feeling of all of those that are in need of prayers. The Orlando shooting victims and families, the wife of a friend that lost her husband after 59 years of marriage, the health of my father in law, the journeys of my children and their families, the ones that haven’t welcomed Jesus into their hearts, the struggling marriages, the 4-year-old boy who is a relative of a friend that has a brain tumor now, and then there is the new parents that brought one newborn home and buried the twin a few weeks ago. This is only to name a few.
I feel like I could just sit down on my living room floor in a mound of sadness and moan. I know that God hears my cries and prayers and joys and laughter and thoughts, he knew me before I was in the womb. So he knows me now, he knows my heart is full and that I want the best for everyone. obviously this doesn’t always happen though.
I’d like to think that the little tidbits of light from each of the above experiences is there. Somewhere. Even though they may not be very bright right now there has to be a little light. Perhaps it’s the unity of community in Orlando, those praying more and hating less, the memories of a love shared and the look to the resurrection for the widow, or that my children find health and happiness in daily living. The family of the young boy is even closer now and perhaps that miracle might just be in his future. That the baby that didn’t come home lives on through the sibling that shared everything with her while she was alive, protected in their mother’s womb.
The world is a place where we can click on our social media feeds and get instant updates. That the sad seems to outweigh the happy and the children of the world are outside less than they used to be. I find myself as an adult to fall into the traps of modern living and modern thinking. It’s hard to stand back and set limits but to refrain from the overwhelming feelings and fear that encompasses our world today.
I do enjoy some aspects of my smartphone, tablets, and computer but recently I’m feeling it’s time to “shut down” so to speak. With our wheat harvest upon us and spreading the word about agriculture it probably won’t happen right now. It will. I will remove Facebook app from my phone once again and step away from the streaming of life online.
I hope though, no matter what, I never stop seeing people. The looks upon their faces, the tears and the smiles. That I never stop hearing the giggles and the uncertainty in their voices at times. Those opportunities keep me connected more so than with Facebook, Instagram, email, or other social media ways. Even if the moments are uncomfortable I’d rather have that connection than to be left alone, looking at a screen.
Grace is a gift,