Things had seemed overwhelming last year when Troy lost his job and we had to sell our little farm to move across the state. It would have been more than I could bear on my own strength; but with our Father’s help, it was possible. Not only did He strengthen us, but He also provided for us a place of picturesque beauty. I won’t go into all the ways that worked to put us here, but it seemed that this must be the place where we are supposed to be.
We are in the rolling hills of western Michigan, on a farm surrounded by hay and corn fields. Our big red barn is supported by massive beams and has 1886 written in white letters on the gable end. From the road to the house is a gradual ascent and the hill goes on to crest in the upper hayfield behind the house. I keep a walking path mowed around the perimeter of the fields. The dogs strongly request that we go there each evening. From the top of the hill is an ever-changing view of breathtaking beauty. I feel the greatness of our Father in that vast expanse of sky and countryside. We call the place “Harvest Hill,” partly because the crops taken from the fields and garden, but mostly because of our desire to be the harvest when Christ returns.
We have had some dark days of trial, but for the moment, we are having a respite. For both trials and respites, we are grateful for the love shown us. We thank our Heavenly Father for His kind blessings.
“For thou wilt light my candle: the LORD my God will enlighten my darkness” (Psa. 18:28).
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One