The Footpath - chapter four

After the mines closed in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula employment opportunities plummeted. Many people who had called the U.P. their home left for greener pastures. Those who stayed remained because of their love for the land. There was no possibility of abundant living. Of course there were those flatlanders who vacationed in the peninsula and the money they spent was welcomed. But when the snow came and ice closed the channel all grew still and quiet except for their stomachs. Living off the land was not as easy as some made it sound. There had been those who wove romantic tales of self-sufficiency. There were others who believed the tales. But those who lived there knew self-sufficiency really meant being satisfied with less “sufficiency” than before. When the going really got tough one small meal a day would suffice.

David’s father loved the land and loved the small farm he had worked for nearly twenty years. He found pleasure in studying trends of crops. Which crop would bring the most money per bushel next year? His choice of which crop to plant was a vital part of farming to him. The more years he worked the farm the more accurate his predictions had become. There seemed to be a correlation between experience and correct choices.

His dad had taken every opportunity to teach David about life and living it well. The farm provided a perfect backdrop for life’s object lessons. While sitting on the porch one warm summer evening sipping cold, fresh-squeezed lemonade, and swaying back and forth in the porch swing the conversation began.

“You know how much I love this farm, don’tcha Dave?

A strange way to begin a conversation, David thought, then answered ”course I do.” He glanced down at his dust covered sneakers and once again his attention was focused on his aching feet. It had been a long hard day. Every muscle screamed for rest. Yet, the day had been wonderful. And the lemonade? The lemonade was oh so good.

“Do you know why I love this farm?”

“Yea, ‘cause you spent a lot of your life here.”

Dad chuckled. “Of course, that’s part of it but there’s another reason.”

David wondered what other reason there could be. Maybe the refreshing lemonade at day’s end was a reason. Or perhaps the breaks they were able to take during the day spending their time sitting in the shade and fishing in the creek.

“The real reason I love this farm is ‘cause it has been the best teacher I have ever had in my life.”

David thought of his teachers at school. There weren’t too many teachers he would put into the category of best. He really didn’t like school all that much. When someone asked him what part of school he liked his standard answer was “the part where I get to leave.” He didn’t like any of his teachers this year. Of course next year he might have Mrs. Brown…

His thoughts were interrupted by his dad’s bass voice.

“Look around, Dave, what do you see?”

“I see work,” he quipped

“Look closer.”

“I see hay fields and corn fields, animals that need to be fed and milked, a dog, three cats and a dead mouse.”

“Let me tell you what I see. I see progress. When we first moved to this farm the fields had been left alone for a while. They were overgrown with multi-flora rose, queen ann’s lace, poison ivy and poison oak with a little sumac thrown in for good measure. Each day would be another challenge. I wanted to quit or take a few days off but I couldn’t. The farm depended on me. One day off would lead to another and another and the fields would start being overgrown with weeds again. I just couldn’t let that happen.”

His pause let Dave know this was an important subject. He needed time to process and remember what was being said. When his dad was convinced the pause had done its job he continued.

“So I got in the habit of doing certain things at certain times. I learned what to do to accomplish as much as I could in each season of the year. In the winter when snow covers the fields I make repairs on the machinery. Plow points need to be replaced, several bearings in the bailer need to be replaced, the corn planter needs welding and the plates may need to be replaced. I want to have all of this kind of stuff done before we need to use them again. In the spring the fields have to inspected, larger rocks removed, plowed, disked and planted. The summer and fall are harvest time. Nature never hurries anything so we have to learn to work with the seasons not against them.”

“Okay, dad, can I go play now. My lemonade’s gone.”

“I know you don’t understand all of this yet but one day what I am telling you will all make sense. I am leading up to something you need to remember.”

“It must be really important.”

“”It is.”

“Can I get another lemonade then?”

“Sure, go ahead and fill my glass while you’re at it. I’ll wait but don’t be gone too long.”

When David returned his father had a faraway look in his eyes. “What could be so important,” he wondered. He didn’t ask knowing his dad would eventually tell him if he needed to know. He sat on the porch swing again and handed the lemonade to his dad.

His dad picked up the conversation where he left off.

“Those fields I was talkin’ about and the seasons are lessons we need for livin’ our life.”

“Really? I thought they were just dirt and warm and cold.”

“Nope, they’re far more than that.”

David thought “Dad has been in the field way too long. Maybe the sun finally fried his brain.” He thought it best to keep his thoughts to himself. His dad looked like he was thinking hard too.

“What I’ve discovered in my years of farmin’ is what life’s all about. See, the field is like a person’s life. A field can’t give back more than it has in it. There are things called “nutrients” in the soil. It’s the stuff that makes crops grow big. Of course what the plants take out of the soil has to be put back. In the early spring I have to add fertilizer to the soil in order for us to get good crops. It’s a lot like life. Can’t get any more out of our life than what we’ve put in. Ever wonder why some people have so many problems?”

“Well, now that you mention it I do. I’ve noticed one of my friends seems to lie a lot. Another one of my friends steals things from people’s yards but he calls in borrowing.”

“Without the good stuff going in to a life no good stuff can come out just like a field.”

“What good stuff?”

“Oh, you know, stuff like truth, nobility, what is right, pure, lovely honorable and honest – these kinds of things.”

“Dad, you can’t just go out and buy these like fertilizer.”

“No you can’t. These things are free but most don’t know where to find them. And even if they did they don’t just grow wild in the soil we call our life. Just like I prepare the field for planting our life has to be prepared for planting too. In life, like farming, the soil is important but so are the seeds. Even after I have done everything I can to guarantee a good crop – there is never a guarantee. There are certain things only God can do. Rain and thunderstorms and sunshine, well, He’s in charge of these.”

“Why are you tellin’ me all this, dad?”

“Mostly ‘cause you are growin’ up an’ I want to make sure you are doing it right. But there’s something else botherin’ me some.”

“What is botherin’ you, dad?”

“You know how hard its been the last few years, right. Been hard to pull ahead money wise with the price fluctuations for crops lately. I have done all I can do but I think God is preparing the field of my life for another crop.”

“Is this a riddle, ‘cause I don’t understand what you are sayin.’”

“I am trying to tell you I don’t think I can keep the farm…”