Storm Cabbage

Two days ago, Nancy took a head of cabbage to my Dad's home and another to my brother's home, a 'sharing of the gifts', if you will. The heads of cabbage are nearly as big as bowling balls and are as sweet and thick as cabbages could hope to be, (said as modestly as a gardener might) some of the best we have ever raised and . . .

These heads of cabbage were the 'storm cabbages'. They were ravaged by the intense hail storm we had some weeks back and I was ready to pull them out and start over, so complete their 'destruction'. God's creation is simply remarkable in its capacity to regenerate and begin anew and we, you and I, are constantly invited to be witnesses to such a profound truth expressed in such organic a manner.

Which got me to thinking about the ways we threaten and coerce each other, not just globally, but also locally and even personally. Do we really believe that we hold such power over others and creation? Do we really believe that we are the 'master' of our fate and control the fate of others? Do we really believe that ours is the final voice that matters? Do we really believe that we can rain down the power of hail - or of bombs - or of legislation - or of special interests - or of political correctness - or of abusive relationships - or of isolationist self-interest, covering the ground, filling the sky, polluting the air . . . and our Creator God won't have the final word about the outcome?

The cabbage tastes good. Our 'storm cauliflower' was delicious. Our 'storm banana peppers' are incredible and our 'storm tomatoes' are not far away.

Perhaps we would be well served to study the world around us and ponder our place in the universe in considering our relationship with each other. We are not as big as we think, neither are we as determinant as we believe. If plants like cabbage, cauliflower, peppers and tomatoes can arise from their grave of hail and produce abundantly, what else might God be capable of despite us?

Just when we think we are at the top of the food chain . . . we find God already is. I love it . . . and pray you do, too.

The Streets Smell Like Curing Hay

It smells like curing hay in town, so full of battered green leaves are our streets. Another sobering reminder of the storm which passed a few short days ago.


The smell reminded me of days gone by, when once such a storm stopped the baling of a field of hay which was dried and ready on our farm. The rain poured down for a day, then continued in fits and starts for another day (one of those 'surpri...se' rains no forecaster foresaw), while the hay laid raked and ready for the baler. By the time the field and hay had dried enough for us to even think about baling, the hay was, in fact, moldy and wasted. Too much time had passed, too much water had soaked it, too much moisture was still trapped underneath the rows. All that was left to do was chop it onto the ground and wait for the next crop to ripen, praying all the while that the next crop would be more bountiful than ever. It is a sad day on a dairy farm when that happens, both in mourning the loss of critical winter feed for the cows and in anticipating what it is going to take from slim profits to purchase enough from other sources to make up for the difference. Many is the farmer which has looked up to the sky with questioning eyes in such moments and voiced a deep disappointment.

I can't speak for other farmers in similar situations, but I can tell you of what I observed in my Dad in comparable moments. When such things happened Dad never blamed God, yet he shared his disappointment as a precious gift of trust with the One to whom all people can go. Even the voice of disappointment in the ear of God is a precious gift of intimate prayer, for both the one who prays the truth of their heart and the One who hears those pained words are moved by that moment of closeness - and out of that shared wound comes healing.

Trust God enough to share everything with God, including the pain, disappointment, grief and anger. In Christ, we are taught that no more honest language can be shared than that of child and Parent.

If the god you believe in isn't big enough to take such candor, than it is a very small god you believe in, indeed.

God can take it all . . . and more, which is good to remember when the streets smell like curing hay. Have a blessed day.