The late winter sun peaked over the trees, bathing the cold land with a warm, golden glow. The ancient Appalachian mountains loomed like sentinels, guarding a small family farm.
Below them, an old gray mule struggled to keep his footing on the rocky ground. Behind him, a farmer tried to control the bouncing plow. It was a job beyond his strength. But he kept going. He had to get the crop into the ground. He had to feed his family. His wife and three children’s survival depended on his persistence.
Of all the plots of land, he had to be given this one. He looked up at the mountains and felt pity rise in his throat. And then he focused back on his goal and kept going. Pity was poor fertilizer.
The plow hit another rock and this time, broke. The farmer cursed his luck. Luck — the farmer pretty much knew he had nothing but bad luck. His wife had been sick all week and his oldest daughter had been running the house as he worked out in the field. The farmer wondered if his name shouldn’t be Job.
There was that pity again. He looked at the plow and realized the damage was fairly minor. “Thanks for small blessings,” he mumbled skyward as he fixed the damage. In no time, the plow was fixed and he kept plowing.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, the field was plowed. He then hooked a small wagon to the mule and began to collect the bigger stones. The farmer felt pity rise up again in his throat, “Why do I have to remove these rocks? Why couldn’t I have been given better land” — but then he realized the rocks were a blessing. He needed them to build a wall to keep his pigs and chickens contained. He continued his work until the sun began to set behind the mountains. Their shadows wrapped the land in a cool blanket of grayness.
As he led the mule toward the barn, he looked toward his cabin and once again felt pity grip his soul. “Why do I have to work so hard?” he asked the sky. “Why is life so hard?” Not that he expected an answer. Moses had it easy. He had a burning bush to answer his questions. He put the mule in the barn, feeling like all his hard work was for nothing.
Then the door to cabin opened. Warmth radiated from the wood structure as a lone figure was silhouetted in its door frame.
It was his wife.
For the first time in a week, she was out of bed. He felt his heart race as he ran up the stone path. His kids ran out and hugged him, welcoming home.
Life wasn’t easy. It wasn’t supposed to be. But each challenge led blessings when you looked for them. He realized his life was like field he just plowed: Full of rocks that turned out to be blessings.
He pushed the hair back from his wife’s thin face and said the only thing he could, “thanks be to God.”
