Faithful as a Farmer

Originally uploaded by Lrwilks
Well I spent the past weekend back in the Blue Ridges for Orientation at Radford University. God knew I needed to be exactly where I was and with whom I was. I heard his voice for the first time in a long time.
Saturday afternoon we took a drive into Riner, VA to enjoy some delicious lattes. Two of my best friends and roommates-Kerri and Courtney, and I. It was a beautiful summer day with gorgeous blue skies and perfect weather. As we drove Kerri started telling us about one day when she had to follow her dad into Riner. She was forced to drive the speed limit-or probably 5 under-for 20 minutes. And it about killed her. You could hear her utmost dread through the tone in her voice.
Now I have to tell you Kerri drives like a lunatic. Well not actually a lunatic. But she knows those country roads like the back of her hand and isn’t afraid to face them at racing speeds of 60+ mph. I am never afraid when she drives that fast on those curves, because I trust that she knows them. (I would pee if I ever drove that fast myself). And so you can understand her frustration with getting stuck behind her dad that day.
The best part is, Kerri’s dad is a farmer. He, like all true farmers, is never in a hurry. Farmers have this aroma of peace they carry with them everywhere they go. They wake up each morning with the sun, with more work to do than the average businessman, but spend at least 30 minutes having breakfast with their wife. Then they leisurely put on their farm boots, call the dog, and head to the truck. The day begins. And as it began, it continues. They drive through each field, stretching hundreds of miles, counting each individual cow. Then they head back to get the tractor, which picks up max speeds of 20 mph. They take the tractor up to where the round bails are kept, put one on the lift, and drive it out to the cows. With everything the farmer does he just listens to the low hum of his motor and the comforting pants of his dog. The farmer is completely at peace. And does everything in patience.
As we drove around the farm late Saturday afternoon, Kerri abided by the farmer driving laws. She drove slowly, and quietly. It is as if being on a farm requires stillness. That afternoon I remembered those days driving through the Blue Ridges with my Granddaddy and how his patience and peace had stood out as well. I always loved that about him, about every farmer. The Lord knew I really needed to be reminded that I have that peace and that patience through the Holy Spirit every single day. And how grateful I am for that promise. That promise that will never, ever end. Now I just need to work on being as faithful as a farmer in how I pray in the Spirit. In how I live in the Spirit.

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