Good morning, Americans! It's FRIDAY!

I was a little worried about where I was going to get inspiration for a post this week -- last week had been almost too easy to blog about! My writer's block was easily cured on Sunday night though, and I laid awake thinking about this post for a long, long time.

And on the eighth day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, "I need a caretaker."

So God made a farmer.

No, I didn't watch the Super Bowl. I'm not real crazy about "professional" sports. (Side note: isn't that picture of my dad funny?! Haha.)

God said, "I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the field, milk cows again, eat supper, then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board."


So God made a farmer.



In fact, I heard the words, "So God made a farmer" from the TV as I was walking by after washing my face before bed. "Hey rewind that, I wanna listen to it," I said to my dad.

God said, "I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt and watch it die, then dry his eyes and say, 'Maybe next year,' I need somebody who can shape an ax handle from a persimmon sprout, shoe a horse with hunk of car tire, who can make a harness out hay wire, feed sacks and shoe scraps. Who, during planting time and harvest season will finish his 40-hour week by Tuesday noon and then, paining from tractor back, put in another 72 hours." 

So God made a farmer.


I sat there and watched it with him, while tears brimmed in my eyes. I couldn't believe I'd never heard it before -- I was an avid Paul Harvey-listener in high school, after all (ironically, thanks to my dad; "Good morning, Americans! It's FRIDAY!")



God said, "I need somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bales, yet gentle enough to yean lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink-comb pullets, who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the leg of a meadowlark."



So God made a farmer.



Really though, can you think of a job more labor-intensive, risky, and thankless than that of a farmer? They work long, irregular hours, operate, maintain, and repair some of the most dangerous equipment known to man, and they FEED us, all without knowing if they're going to come out ahead or not.

It had to be somebody who'd plow deep and straight and not cut corners. Somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed, and brake, and disk, and plow, and plant, and tie the fleece and strain the milk, . Somebody who'd bale a family together with the soft, strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh, and then sigh and then reply with smiling eyes when his son says that he wants to spend his life doing what Dad does.

So God made a farmer.

Thank you so much for that 8th day, God.

Love,

Kalli

P.S. Want to watch the commercial again? Find it here.