Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Joy (05/18/06)
-
TITLE: A Harvest of Joy | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ann Stocking
05/25/06 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
Should be able to start swathing and threshing soon. Looks pretty good. Might pay off the tractor and get clothing for the children. And maybe a few extras.
“Daddy!” Peter ran to greet him. “Breakfast!”
“Coming, son.” Randall swung Peter onto his shoulders, and they laughed their way back to the farmhouse.
Happy clamour greeted Randall, as the children took their places around the table. Ellen put a bowl before him – oatmeal puddled with pale butter.
“Children?” A hush. “For all Your blessings, Lord, we are truly thankful. Amen.”
Spoons clanked against bowls, and noisy babble erupted again as the children planned their day.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Randall asked.
“Aw, Dad!” A chorus broke out as four sets of woebegone eyes pleaded for leniency.
“First, the animals. Then, pick the rest of the beans.”
The children resumed eating, subdued. Randall looked at each flaxen head, as fair as the ripening wheat, each child a blessing. Joshua, stubborn and determined. Roseanne, with her gentle eyes and heart. Carrie, the firecracker, and finally, Peter, the would-be world traveller.
He caught Ellen’s eye, and they spoke with their souls, a silent understanding of their joy and contentment swelling their hearts. Though life was hard, it was good; their certainties, the sun, the seasons, and their Sovereign God.
The oatmeal disappeared, and so did the children, racing off to feed the animals. Randall rubbed Ellen’s shoulders as she stacked bowls, and she leaned into his arms.
“I’m going to mend the pasture fence. After that, I’ll be at the barn. By the way, the wheat looks real good. Should be harvesting soon.”
“A little earlier than usual?”
“Yes, but it looks fine.”
“See you at lunch time.” They kissed, lingering in the moment.
It didn’t take long for Randall to mend the barbed wire, and he turned out the cow and calf. By then, the children had finished feeding and had moved to the garden.
In the cool, dim barn, Randall oiled the horse harness. They’d purchased the tractor several years before, but he preferred the team for smaller jobs. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to another era.
“Dad, we’re done. Can we go fishing now?”
Randall pretended to ponder while the children begged. Finally, he chuckled, “Bring supper home for us!”
At noon, when Randall exited the barn, stifling heat blasted him, and sweat began running down his back. His eyes adjusted to the blinding sunlight, and on the horizon, he could see a bank of dark clouds.
Rain?
But the white heat was too motionless, too intense. Suddenly, the wind blew a chilled breath into Randall’s face.
Ellen appeared on the porch, her brow jeweled with perspiration. She gasped when she saw the roiling mass drawing closer. Streaks of lightning sliced the forbidding blackness, and the ground trembled.
“Get the cow, Ellen. I’ll get the children.”
The first pellets of ice fell as Randall began to run, leaving Ellen to struggle with the bawling cow. But, as the hail increased in size and bombarded them, they were forced to return, dragging the reluctant animal together. They huddled in each other’s arms, barely daring to breathe, desperate prayers pounding a litany in their minds.
When it was over, they surveyed the white farmyard with incredulity. Treading carefully, Randall made his way to a heap in the pasture. The calf. He bent and then stood, shaking his head.
From the barn, they could see the flattened wheat field. Every stalk was bent and broken under a burden of hail. Destroyed.
“Dad! Mom!”
The children!
“It’s Christmas!”
“We hid where the bank overhangs the creek!”
The children were soaked, their hair slicked across their foreheads, and they laughed merrily, unaware of the loss.
Mingled tears of thanksgiving and heartbreak flowed as Randall and Ellen watched the children frolic in the summer wonderland, their peals a carol of joy.
Randall whispered. “Although the fig tree shall not blossom...”
“...Neither shall fruit be in the vines.” Ellen responded.
“And there shall be no herd in the stall.”
“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord.”
“I will joy in the God of my salvation...”
“...I will joy in the God of my salvation.” *
As always, in all ways, God would provide.
*Habakkuk 3: 17, 18 KJV
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
Using the calf to show us the damage the hail could do worked well.
As I read, I thought of Riders and Reapers. I bet this would be accepted if you submitted there. It's a wonderful story.