God never sends a burden to weigh us down without offering His arms to lift us up.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28
One of the things I remember about growing up was that I was always tired. When eight o'clock rolled around I was usually ready for bed. I didn't have to have a bedtime story. I didn't worry about sleeping with a night light. As soon as the light went off I was asleep.
I think maybe it's because I was always outside. My grandparents owned a farm which I spent my summers at and having a farm by definition means you go outside.
I was my Grandpa's official "Little Helper." There were a whole passel of grandkids that spent time at the farm, but they usually went off to play "Little House on the Prairie" or "Cowboys and Indians."
My day started at five in the morning. That's when my Grandpa dressed in his old faded denim bib overalls would walk into my room, stepping over grandkids in all disarrays of sleep laying on the floor and say to the darkness (because he wasn't exactly sure where I was sleeping) "Troy you ready to get at 'em?"
Of course I was.
I would already be dressed, sitting up on my pallet, waiting for him to come in.
Our first step was always a breakfast of eggs we collected the day before and bacon we cured out in the smokehouse. Then we were out to the fields.
My Grandpa raised potatoes and green beans. He always had a little patch of "maters" and a bit of okra too. He also raised pigs and a good part of our day would be slopping the hogs or stoking the smokehouse.
When I was five he gave me one of his Old Henry pocket knives. And every day I used it to slice off a small piece of hog at the smokehouse. I had to check and make sure it was cured right, you see. And every day he would say, "Goodness. Looks like those termites have gotten after my hogs again."
The days were long and hot. The garden was dirty and the henhouse was musty. But when six o'clock rolled around that's when my favorite time of the day started. It's when we carried back the baskets of goodies we had gathered for the day.
My Grandma would coo at the baskets and say, "O Lordy! Look at all the goodies!" And I'd smile a smile so big my cheeks would hurt for days.
My Grandpa would say, "I'm not sure if we'll ever get it all in but me an' Little Helper are trying."
And he was right. There was no way we would ever get everything done. There were too many pigs to slop. Too many hens to pet. Too many rows of potatoes and too much prickly okra to pick. But even though there was always too much to do, we always had six o'clock.
That's when my Grandma and I would sit on the back porch, shoo away flies, snap green beans and sing old hymns. My Grandpa would start churning the handle on a batch of homemade ice cream. (If I was extra good it was made out of Orange Crush).
Even though there may be days when it seems like it will never end. When we think that life can't give us anymore to handle or we'll never be finished with all our work. God will send to us our own "six o'clock." A time when we can just sit and enjoy the labors of our days.
Let us pray.
Dear God. We are amazed by your goodness in our lives. The times you give us to enjoy each other and the fruits of our labors. We ask God that you allow us to enjoy this day the life you have given us. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.
The Blessings of Our Lord Jesus Christ Be With You!
PASTOR TROY CONRAD IS MINISTER OF THE FARMINGTON UNITED METHODIST CHURCH.
Religion on 07/22/2015