Hay
I love hay.
It's sort of an outsider love, as I neither produce nor use hay for any purpose whatsoever. And it is also a love that ignores the fact that the mouse invasion of 2014 occurred as a direct result of the mowing of the hayfield beside our house. Combined with a door left open.
Who knows when the fascination began, but never does a field dotted with hay bales fail to bring an excited little kid smile to my face.
The hay, it just speaks to me. It's profound and deep and so very, very spiritual.
I pause here to remind you that I embraced crazy weird long ago. Judge away. End pause.
Why do I love hay so? Let me count the ways.
The grass grows. The rain falls and the grass grows, all orchestrated in perfect timing by the Gardener himself. Science has figured out the how but never the ultimate why. A mystery that lies with God alone.
And oh the sight of those wispy green stalks waving in the summer breeze. A balm for the soul, more soothing and captivating than all the fidget spinners in all the world.
The tractor cuts, and a field once overgrown is now restored to clean order, covered by a soft green-brown carpet.
Raking, then raking again. Stalks now gathered in perfectly parallel weaving winding rows, first wide, now thin.
The baler comes, the outdoor vacuum gathering up the rows and pooping out huge, meticulously bound rolls of cow food.
I'm sorry, but pooping the rolls out is how the boys describe it, and there really is no truer description of what balers do.
And then hopefully, if all is right with the world, bales upon bales dotting the rolling fields will sit there for a while. Basking in their sunny glory and testifying to everyone who passes by that God provides.
And herein is why I love watching the hay drama unfold. It is a direct blessing of provision from the Lord. The grass can't grow without Him. The weather can't cooperate without Him. The brain couldn't have come up with the tools or system to preserve the hay without Him. The cows can't eat without Him.
Nothing without Him.
It is a process of faith, a beautifully logical and reliable exercise. No step can be skipped. Or rushed. Or shortcutted. Any of those would ruin it all.
Such an illustration of God's work in our lives. He doesn't skip steps. Or rush. Or shortcut. And as we wait and watch and grasp desperately to trust His work that so very often makes no sense whatsoever, He builds in us patience. Obedience. Perseverance. Faithfulness.
And somehow we start to get what Jesus tried to tell us. "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?"
Care for the sparrows. Hay for the cows. And He whispers, "I will take care of you."
Walking around these walls
I thought by now they'd fall
But You have never failed me yet
Waiting for change to come
Knowing the battle's won
For You have never failed me yet
Your promise still stands
Great is Your faithfulness, faithfulness
I'm still in Your hands
This is my confidence, You've never failed me yet
I've seen You move, You move the mountains
And I believe
I'll see You do it again
You made a way where there was no way
And I believe
I'll see You do it again
It's sort of an outsider love, as I neither produce nor use hay for any purpose whatsoever. And it is also a love that ignores the fact that the mouse invasion of 2014 occurred as a direct result of the mowing of the hayfield beside our house. Combined with a door left open.
Who knows when the fascination began, but never does a field dotted with hay bales fail to bring an excited little kid smile to my face.
The hay, it just speaks to me. It's profound and deep and so very, very spiritual.
I pause here to remind you that I embraced crazy weird long ago. Judge away. End pause.
Why do I love hay so? Let me count the ways.
The grass grows. The rain falls and the grass grows, all orchestrated in perfect timing by the Gardener himself. Science has figured out the how but never the ultimate why. A mystery that lies with God alone.
And oh the sight of those wispy green stalks waving in the summer breeze. A balm for the soul, more soothing and captivating than all the fidget spinners in all the world.
The tractor cuts, and a field once overgrown is now restored to clean order, covered by a soft green-brown carpet.
Raking, then raking again. Stalks now gathered in perfectly parallel weaving winding rows, first wide, now thin.
The baler comes, the outdoor vacuum gathering up the rows and pooping out huge, meticulously bound rolls of cow food.
I'm sorry, but pooping the rolls out is how the boys describe it, and there really is no truer description of what balers do.
And then hopefully, if all is right with the world, bales upon bales dotting the rolling fields will sit there for a while. Basking in their sunny glory and testifying to everyone who passes by that God provides.
And herein is why I love watching the hay drama unfold. It is a direct blessing of provision from the Lord. The grass can't grow without Him. The weather can't cooperate without Him. The brain couldn't have come up with the tools or system to preserve the hay without Him. The cows can't eat without Him.
Nothing without Him.
It is a process of faith, a beautifully logical and reliable exercise. No step can be skipped. Or rushed. Or shortcutted. Any of those would ruin it all.
Such an illustration of God's work in our lives. He doesn't skip steps. Or rush. Or shortcut. And as we wait and watch and grasp desperately to trust His work that so very often makes no sense whatsoever, He builds in us patience. Obedience. Perseverance. Faithfulness.
And somehow we start to get what Jesus tried to tell us. "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?"
Care for the sparrows. Hay for the cows. And He whispers, "I will take care of you."
I thought by now they'd fall
But You have never failed me yet
Waiting for change to come
Knowing the battle's won
For You have never failed me yet
Your promise still stands
Great is Your faithfulness, faithfulness
I'm still in Your hands
This is my confidence, You've never failed me yet
I've seen You move, You move the mountains
And I believe
I'll see You do it again
You made a way where there was no way
And I believe
I'll see You do it again
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