Unexpected Blessings

“Hay’s for horses,” we used to say as kids. “But straw is cheaper.” 

Truthfully, when Jack and I were newlyweds I didn’t know the difference between a hay field and a wheat field. Over the last 40 years I’ve learned a few things. We rotate crops between corn, soybeans and winter wheat. Cropping can be stressful. You’re pressured by climate conditions, the calendar and temperamental machinery. Work days are long during planting and harvest. Weeds, weather and insects beyond your control can threaten your fields at any time during the growing season. Marketing is a science in itself. A farmer should be part stock broker, part gambler. Considering what’s invested in land, equipment and input costs, the profit margins aren’t great. Still, growing field crops is what lights up farmers like Jack.

There’s something uniquely gratifying about working an empty field, planting thousands of little seeds and watching them break through the ground and reach for the sky. While I’m not the one actually gardening on this grand scale, I am an appreciative observer. Every crop has its own beauty. Corn stands tall and strong, surrounding our farm like a giant green fortress. Soybeans are lush and full, a verdant reminder of what Eden must have been. 

And winter wheat is a joy to watch, start to finish – a deep green carpet ahead of the winter snow, it’s the first thing to revive in the spring. Its graceful stalks sway gently in the summer breeze. Then it ripens to a soft golden colour and the full heads bow down with the weight of a good crop. Even through a long, miserable winter, wheat is incredibly resilient. Until it isn’t.

WHEN HOPE FAILS
We had a cold, wet fall, with early snow, followed by several cycles of rain, freezing, thawing and re-freezing over the winter. For months, frozen ponds blanketed large areas of local fields, effectively smothering the plants. Many of Ontario’s wheat fields have sustained significant winter kill. Overall, an estimated 20 percent of them will be abandoned and replanted with some other crop. We’re included in that statistic. When the ice and snow finally melted, the wheat struggled to survive. We waited for spring sunshine and warmth to kick in. It never happened. Jack will replant the field this week with soybeans, Lord willing. Yes, we have crop insurance. It covers our input expenses. The extra work, discouragement and frustration are on us. 

As Norton and I meander through the sparse field, I have to believe there’s as much blessing in a failed crop as in an abundant harvest. It’s just not the kind of blessing we were hoping for. My disappointment doesn’t diminish God’s sovereignty or providence. When we talk about “good and perfect gifts,” we must first consider the good and perfect Giver. Whether he ordains weal, or woe is his call. 

Job rebuked his wife, “shall we indeed accept good from God and shall we not accept adversity?” Other questions are implicit here. Do we love God for who he is, or mainly for what he does for us? Do we truly believe he will send only what’s best for us, even if it’s not what we wanted? The answers apply to matters far more serious than a spindly wheat crop.

So I comfort myself by remembering God’s faithfulness and generosity to us over the years. I remind myself of the numerous biblical injunctions not to worry. Trust and obey. They say farmers (like Maple Leafs fans) are perpetual optimists – after all, there’s always next year! For now, be thankful. And praise God from whom all blessings flow.