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I’ve been thinking lately that it’s not such a bad thing to have circumstances turn your life upside down! OK, so maybe that ‘bone-crushing, knee-breaking, chest-ripping” bit was a little over the top, trauma-wise. But some really wonderful, Life-enhancing changes have come from that chaos.
First of all, the geographic changes have made an incredible improvement in my over-all morale. Thanks to Curt & Vi, I now live in a comfortable, friendly, blessed house with another family of missionary-believers. And, as a result of company downsizing, outsourcing, and consolidation, my worksite has moved–from a I83 off-ramp and a death-trap morning drive–to a site that I can reach over country roads, past farms, and fields of wheat, corn, soybeans, and alfalfa. I arrive to work prayed-up, energized, and ready to deal with my day.
OK, so those fields I thought were alfalfa are actually spring/summer wheat. My friend Curt, with his PhD in Agronomy, identified them for me. He tells me alfalfa is bright green. ; )
He also pointed out that the fields of low-to-the-ground green vegetation are soy beans. Who knew?
I’m from New Jersey–I know what tomatoes, peppers, and corn look like for sure! But nobody in my neighborhood grew wheat! Read the rest of this entry »
One of literature’s ancient parables is the legend of Narcissus, who fell in love with his own image reflected in a perfect pool of water. Narcissus ultimately destroyed himself, undone by his obsession with self-admiration.
There’s a lesson there somewhere, not just for Christians, but for all of us. I was thinking about my responsibilities as a disciple and the nuances of narcissism today, as I listened to a rebroadcast of a show, Radio Smart Talk, from WITF fm, our local NPR station. The host was interviewing two psychology professors, co-authors of The Narcissism Epidemic: Living in the Age of Entitlement.
The co-authors were talking about America as an increasingly narcissistic society. Their dialogue started me thinking about the dichotomy between Christian discipleship and cultural influences that pull all of us in opposite directions.
The road home winds through miles of farms with cows, and freshly-plowed and fertilized fields. The aroma of manure, damp earth, and alfalfa fill my senses. The smells remind me of my childhood, a pinto named Sparkle, and the Gaskel family. They ran a farm nearby, and my parents would drive over to visit on Sunday afternoons. We would play in the stable, or in the house with Bobby and Patty, their kids, while the adults talked in the kitchen. The sweet odor of Sparkle’s hide and tack returns to my memory as I drive into the hovering dusk.
