The Farmer and His Fortunate Folly

The Farmer and His Fortunate Folly

There once was a Farmer who was as prideful as he was prudent and as clumsy as he was clever. He was known by his neighbors for his fair and shrewd business practices. From all he expected the same tireless work; of his neighbors, of his workers, and even of his fields.

This remained his pattern until one, ordinary fall day when he mortgaged his fields, his house and barn and made plans to rent out his fields for the season. His neighbors, also farmers met at the local tavern to exchange words on this peculiarity. “He has never so much as taken a loan all the years I have known him.” Said one “Nor his father before him” said another. “And what of this trip, he was very closed-mouthed about the destination, and purpose” chimed in a third. No logic or purpose could they discover in the Farmer’s cryptic words and deeds.

The season passed quickly, and the harvest planted, grew and was gathered in. Little thought was paid to the Farmer or his journey. The following spring, just as the land was being tilled once more to receive the next year’s seeds, the Farmer returned. Before returning to his own field he met with each of his neighbors, toured and complemented their fields, barns and holding. So rare was such a visit, especially from such a prideful man that again the farmer’s were abuzz with chatter. Some tried to feel slighted or insulted “Who does he think he is traipsing all around our lands as if he owned them all.” Ours saw it for what it was “Seldom does anyone but me and my workers see the land as it is, beautiful, harsh and generous, and he did just that, and for his visit I am thankful.”

The next day was a day the Farmer would not forget. He woke early ready to sow his fields. He put on his jacket and went to his satchel to retrieve the treasure his journey had yielded. A treasure which he had planned would allow him to own all the land around him, which he had so recently toured. And all his neighbors soon would be of his employ, the life of leisure was to be his fortune. No sooner had these thoughts warmed and clouded his mind then utter horror soon replaced it. His satchel holding the key to his riches had a small hole in the bottom, and the seeds which would have yielded twice the harvest in half the growing season were missing, his very life blood drained away. His loans would be due at the end of the season and he had nothing left to his name to sell that had not already been borrowed against.

That day he revisited all his neighbors with a hard and harsh humility which bore down upon his back as no weight had ever done. This day was to beg for seeds to plant, not hardly enough to repay the loans, but enough to live on his remaining months. Some of his neighbors still had hardened hearts from all the years of his shrewd business dealings with him. “I knew your visit of last eve was mere show to put me in frame of mind for this begging that you do now.” Others among his neighbors looked on him with pity “Here is all I can spare; I will only plant half my fields this season, for I cannot bear to see a neighbor starve while I eat well.” All his neighbors gave something no matter what their response in words. The Farmer planted all his fields and counted the days until his life was over.

Then something unexpected happened. That spring all the fields surrounding the Farmer grew twice as fast and twice the yield, regardless of the amount of seed planted. Even fields that had gone unsown yielded this same plant. And what is more, by the time the harvest had been gathered it the plants had re-sown themselves. Such was the joy that all the Farmer’s neighbors, now rich beyond their dreams paid the debt the Farmer owed. Only the Farmer himself understood his folly and the good that sprang from it. The rest of his days he lived a changed life, indebted to all and blessed by many.

14 minute story

There once was a man, few remember even fewer still now lament. In early life the hopes and dreams of the village rested upon his shoulders. He was to be their leader, once their father had gone the way of the ancients. He was as strong and wise as his father ever was, however he had one weakness, love.

Many were the days when he would steal away only to be found with a neighbors daughter in some secluded hay field. As he grew, so did his passions. And grow they did until a fateful day when out with his love of the moment they were to cross the rushing river for home before dark fell. Not one to ask for help, and more the one to give it he crossed upon an old tree who had fallen years before. Not to be bested his love clamored after, the tree creaked, and broke hurling her into the waters. In a moment she was sped from him and he could naught but look on in terror.

That was the day his love, both for women, and life were doused by the cold rushing waters.

Years past, and as he had grown in wisdom and strength when young, now he withered with each passing day, not content to work or play, to jest or study. He was a mighty tree with root rotten, a cask of the dream. To harden what was left of his heart further, many in the town took his current state as an affront to their future, their security. So the ridicule began to rot from outside, what the hole or grief ate away from within. This continued on until another fateful day when he vanished without word or trace. Some talk about caves in the local hills where a thing, hard to call a man, roams and roosts. Others speak of a mysterious bridge being build across the river, with no builder to be seen.

Retreat: Naked Faith Rocks in my Box

This past weekend New Leaf Church went on retreat. Unlike some of the past retreats there was a distinct flavor of sharing and reflection.

One of the activities was to decorate small river rocks with aspects of faith journey, the corner stones of our personal faith.

I attempted many times to distill my faith for 5 core things, events, or people that help me define what I believe.

When I got close, the paint would not stick.

I turned to the box and decorated with growth lines, the kind that trees hide deep inside themselves. They tell or the weather during that season of growth.

So what is on my naked faith rocks?

Everywhere I go, I carry the taste of loss. One of my rocks stands for the deep sorrow only a close death can bring. The perspective and heart ache when physical embodiment of imperfect unconditional love has flown.

Another stone has faults and seams in it, battle scars and beauty together. This stone reminds me of my continual, ongoing struggle with depression. My faith is a life boat and an anchor, sometimes I decide to climb aboard and other times I struggle in the water "on my own". My life has been marred with beauty and pain invisible at first glance, but deeply present.

All my stones are not washed smooth, some roughness remains, some evidence of the journey incomplete, the journey that will never fully wear away the marks of struggle and doubt, loss and beauty and hope in the pit of utter hopelessness. I, like my faith will never me complete, never perfect, never more than a work in progress and I would have it no other way.

So, you see my faith rocks are naked, bearing marks proudly, with humility and shame, and many more the like invisible at a glance.

What are the corner stones of your faith, the anchor and give buoyancy to your life?

Zero Sum Game? Life?

The power of things is all around. We cannot wander anywhere but the deepest woods without being impacted by the lust after things, and the marketing that feeds that drive.

At some point, my guess is early on we meet money for the first time. Carefree bartering of youth begins to transition into needing this stuff in order to get more stuff.

At first we rely on allowances or odd jobs to feed our need for things. Comic books, toy soldiers, candy all momentary pleasures, and all, in the moment, life or death needs.

As we grow, so do all consuming appetites and more. To muddy the waters further still the things money buys become a sign of worth. What we wear, the things we drive, as well as having and providing the "hot" and "new" for and to our friends keeps our social credit alive.

Then money begins to "really" matter. As fads fade and real bills begin. Money becomes and obstacle in the pursuit of knowledge. Can I get loans transitions to can I pay loans and eat something other than Ramen Noodles.

Once we strike this balance, or any time we approach that balance life happens. Lay offs, romances, fender benders, illness, family, friend's marriages. Every costs, and to find joy you have to ante up.

Time passes, jobs resumes grow in length often faster than we'd like. Identities change as often as the seasons and sometimes more frequently. The we commit again, love, marriage, bills, mortgages, rent all due, Student loans echo and one wonder's if it was all worth it. Worth, value, cost - value which we hope is positive.

Money is the grease the fills the holes to prevent us from sinking. Money allows is social mobility. Money is the measure of the worth of our time, either salaried or by the hour. Our prestige, or identity all wrapped up in an number. We work for money, we work for those we love, we work for those we would avoid on the street. Money stretches us to find the expectations demanded of us.

And when our time comes to close, the marketing machine preys upon our will to not have our passing burden those left behind. Money, wealth, reputation to be defended even after we are gone.

All but in the deepest woods does money rule our lives. And as in the woods we strive to leave no trace, yet in this life we strive to leave a large dent, and hope it is seen as beautiful.

Coed Small Group Session 10

Take your time, reflect, write color.

Pieces of Life, Parts of us all.

What are the pieces of life that nourish us?

What do we take root in and are anchored to that which we could not live without?

What is our Sunshine that helps us grow?

What is the wind in our lives that spur us on to change?

What is the water that sustains us, and drives us to thirst even more?

Nothing to see here :)

Just an update, The Coed small group is still progressing. We have changed mediums to clay, so it is hard to show in the same way how you can play at home.
However! I will be posting a summary of lessons learned of the past few sessions.

In working with clay I find that the connection with the object adds to the experience. It had been easy for me, when asked, "What is...?" to respond with a pat answer. To just repeat what I had heard, or said myself many times. To attempt to translate the concept into a three dimensional image allowed those easy answers to become utterly insufficient.

Peace, Joy, Love

What is peace?
The rippling waters of the ocean, the shelter that brings wholeness.

What is joy?
The heart taking flight, the moment when gravity loses it's hold.

What is love?
A scared imperfect heart whose brokenness allows the love to spread, as a seed breaks away from it's source of nourishment to die so that a new live would be created.

Love Love Love

What is the love of self, the love for community and the love for the world?

Love of self is the embrace that is never tight enough and lasts all too short making the cold air all the more chilling when the hug ends.

Love for community is the warm chain that binds causing sleepless nights, hard goodbyes, and awkward hellos.

Love for the world is a warm glade that fills with mist, cold breezes and seems to never be big enough to fill the space between as the trees creek and sways threatening to fall, yet never touching the ground.

What is the love, peace, hope that is just out of reach?

The search for the ever changing lizard who blends into all surroundings; never found, ever sought, and always present, though invisible.

So what? How does changing the lens we see life through alter the things themselves which merrily go about their business unchanged, unaltered and utterly unaffected?

Being changed is all we can hope for, all we can ask of ourselves, and all that is ever really possible.

I change, We change, the world is not the same.

Coed Small Group Session 5

Hope: Look at this walled garden. If this were your hope, what would it look like? Add the things that would make this your place of hope. Who might be there, how would you feel there? Take some time to draw, write, color and add whatever is missing.

Now that you've visualized your hope, what would God add, or what might God hope for, on your behalf that is missing, add those things, people, feelings, objects.

Lets think about the wall. Does your wall have decoration on it? What is it's purpose in relation to your garden of hope?

What stops us from sharing our hope, both for ourselves and for those around us? Is it fear of rejection, or that our hopes might cause others pain? How might hope be meant to share?

Think of hope, and how you might find courage to share it with others, and help them build a hope for themselves.