It’s nearly harvest time. I guess that doesn’t mean as much today as it did in years gone by. Pre-packaged food has become a way of life. However, I still like to “Put up” a few jars of jams and jellies. My daughter enjoys canning and does as much as she has time for. She is a single parent with two girls to raise and is a local teacher too.

Even though I enjoy seeing the rows of sparkling red, purple and gold jars sitting on my pantry shelves I know it would be foolish for me, with my husband gone, to engage in much harvesting. However, there is the nostalgia. I remember my mother standing over a boiling kettle nearly every day during the harvest season. The kitchen was hot and steamy but the fragrance heavenly. It was almost as good as bread baking days!

I think of the farm when I ponder over harvest time. When I was a young girl, I helped out in the cooking wagon at threshing time. It was fun for me and my cousin, Myrtle, but my aunt and her friends thought it was only hard work. They did enjoy it though. I could tell by the laughing and talking they did. When the men came in from the field, they looked tired and hot, but after they washed up in buckets placed near the cooking wagon, they looked fresh and really ready to eat all the food prepared for them. And, did they eat!

After they ate they laid down in the grassy meadow nearby and smoked their pipes, talking together about crops and stuff that I wasn’t interested in at all. There seemed to be a signal because the men stood up at the same time and headed out to the field again. I think threshing time was a good time too. Oh, I know the farming equipment today does the work quicker and better, but the threshing machine went from farm to farm and people all worked together to get the crops in. The women worked together to keep their men fed too. Today we are lucky if we know the names of our neighbors.

How about us? Are we harvesting the good things, working toward inward fulfillment—toward that inner abundance for which we humans yearn? We can only yield the harvest of peace and love by looking to God as the source of our supply Then we will harvest that inner abundance in our lives. Let’s get to know God and make a jar or two of Jelly to bring over to our neighbor, shall we?

I heard this story in the news from Oklahoma recently so I made up this story based on the news from Oklahoma. I thought you might like it.

“Mama, let’s go for a walk,” Tammy said on the first sunny day since this young family moved from the city to their country home in Oklahoma.
That’s a good idea, Tammy. It will be good to take a break after sewing all these curtains.”

The two of them, with Skip, their collie, were soon walking out the door into the sunshine.

“ We had better tell your daddy first. You know we really don’t know the area around here very well.”

“I’ll run to the barn and tell him, Mama,” Tammy offered and ran to the barn and back again, anxious to be on her walk.

They walked a long time along the old country road, enjoying the flowers that were blooming at the sides of the road and the cows that seemed so contented in the meadow. They hadn’t noticed the dark clouds in the distance.

“Oh look Tammy! The clouds are really dark there in the west. It looks like we’re going to have a storm soon,” said Mama who sounded like she was very anxious.

The wind came up and a few raindrops fell on them, but Mama saw the funnel shaped cloud ahead. She didn’t say anything about it to Tammy. “There’s an old shack over there,” she said pointing at it. “Let’s go over there and wait until the storm blows over,” she yelled over the heavy wind which now was beginning to blow.

They got inside the shack just when the tornado hit the ground. It turned the shack into a pile of lumber with the three of them under the pile. Just as quickly as the tornado came it went and all was quiet. Mama checked Tammy and Skip, but no one was hurt, but they were pinned down under the lumber and couldn’t get out.

“All I’ve got to get us out of here is my scissors here in my apron pocket,” sighed Mama.

“Well, all I’ve got is this pencil, but look over there! I think that hole is big enough for Skip to get through.”

“You’ve given me an idea. Let’s cut a piece from my apron, write on it with your pencil and tie it around Skip’s neck and send him to your daddy,” said Mama excitedly.

Soon Skip was on his way to the barn. Paul took the piece of apron off Skip’s neck, read the note and was on his way to help his wife and daughter.

“You’re a good old Skip,” said Paul on his way to what used to be the shack. He moved the pile of lumber enough to get Tammy and her Mama free. The four of them walked happily back to their farmhouse.

“Boy! Have we ever got a story to tell Grandma and Grandpa,” said Tammy as she sipped her hot chocolate.

“Yup, we sure do.” answered Daddy.

Mama was too comfortable, sitting beside the glowing fire in the fireplace with her hot chocolate in her hands, to say anything, but she smiled her answer.

Now who made sure Mama had scissors and an apron and who made sure that Tammy had a pencil? I think it was God, don’t you?