In a Time of Drought—Carolyn R. Wilker

It’s August and very hot these days in our part of Canada. The rain seems to go around us instead of where we want it to, so that the grass and trees and all will gain refreshment and the air cools to make us feel better too.

We have rain barrels at our home to collect the rain when it does come, and we use that for the garden plants. We don’t worry about the grass getting dry. It will come back later as it always does. But the food we grow is quite another thing.

Nephew's farm

The farm crops in our area need rain desperately. I tell people, when they’re not wanting rain in the middle of their summer activities, that if the farmer’s crops don’t get watered, we don’t eat. Quite often city people don’t have it on their radar. But I do, since I grew up on a farm where my parents made their livelihood.

Prices of produce are higher the less there is, whether it’s grain crops or fruits or vegetables. Think of the $8 cauliflower last winter or the apricots that are quite scarce this year and thus more expensive. 

Our water barrels

 tomato plants affected by heat, but with water, they produce

Buying power is less if your crops don’t grow when they should. I remember years when the egg prices were down (since we had laying hens) and crops got hit by too much wind. We got what we needed that winter, but maybe not any extras. Our parents were frugal—not stingy, just careful with money—they learned to stretch what we had.

Another year the crops might fare better and the egg price goes up, then we might get something extra, such as new roller skates. I remember being excited about that conversation when I was about 14 years old.

            Just as our parents cared for our needs, fed and clothed us, and provided anything extra, so too our Heavenly Father takes care of us—through the good times and also the lean times too. Not just our physical needs, but also our spiritual ones, when we let him in, and maybe too when we’re not so aware of the care.

It reminds me of the late winter and early spring when my father was in hospice. It felt somewhat like a wilderness with us wandering around putting in time, unsure how long that would last. We’d asked for prayer, even when we were sometimes not sure how to pray ourselves.

Knowing people were praying for us helped on the sad days when Dad’s physical abilities declined with each day, or our energy flagged with the frequent visits and the rest of life that was going on around us. God was with us. Then on my father’s last day, when the pastor came and gave a bedside service in Dad’s room, I felt God’s care too.

In the Old Testament book, Hosea (13:5), we read, “I cared for you in the wilderness, In the land of drought.”  The earth is dry and desolate and we feel that way too at times.

God knows when we’re feeling sad, discontented and in need of a hug and he often sends someone to do just that, when we need it most. He knows about our wilderness experiences. God knew too that the church full of people come to pay tribute to our father would encourage us, because they cared enough to be there. The calls from others who could not attend have been just as welcome, like water in a drought, even after the funeral is over. It reminds me that people care and that God does too.

 

Carolyn R. Wilker is a writer and editor from southwestern Ontario, where she likes to spend time with family and friends. Having been raised on a farm, she has learned to conserve resources, such as water and to treat the earth with care.

www.carolynwilker.ca 

Giving thanks—Carolyn R. Wilker

 After our opening hymn, “We plough the fields and scatter,” this morning, our pastor asked the children what they are thankful for. One said “family” and his little sister said the same thing. And that’s okay, because those things are important too.

When Pastor Claudine mentioned farmers and harvest, it occurred to me that city children do not have the same understanding of harvest that I would have had as a child, or even children growing up on a farm today. City kids don’t see the crops growing, as I did, unless their parents take them to see family in the country. They don’t see wheat in the field being cut, threshed and loaded into a barn for later use. They wouldn’t see all the time and energy or even understand how much the sunshine and rain affect the crops or see the worry in parents’ eyes when too much rain flattens a good stand of grain or hail beats down the corn.

We took our children to see their grandparents on the farm, so they learned some respect for that way of living, yet it's not the same as growing up there and living and farming day in and day out.

My brother is home for a visit from Calgary. On the way to our parents’ place today, he noticed the crops and how they had grown since his last visit in June. By that time the seeding had been done and the crops were just beginning to grow. There’s something about growing up in the country that never leaves you.

                       Dad driving an old rebuilt tractor in the hometown fair

My siblings and I, having grown up on a farm, perhaps understood more of this than children who live in town. I learned the meaning of a difficult year when the crops weren’t as good, and when the egg price was lower and how that affected what we could buy. Granted, we lived mostly on what we grew and we never went hungry. We had what we needed and we were cared for and loved. We also learned what it took to manage a farm, all the work involved when both Mom and Dad were on the tractor at harvest time and we took on the other chores as we were able. Helping with younger siblings, making meals and gathering eggs.

It wasn’t just about what was in the fields for Mom. We had a large garden, and after a full day of regular chores, she did her canning and freezing in the evening after small ones were in bed. When we were old enough, we helped and she no longer had to stay up late to get it done.

 Living in the city, I  have a small garden, but I still go to market for fresh fruits and vegetables and can and freeze food too, but not nearly as much as Mom put away.

And so today, I give thanks for the work of farm families who produce food that eventually shows up on store or market shelves to feed others. Long after I’m off the farm, I still understand how weather affects crops and how summer is such a busy season for them. I hope their efforts bring them enough to live out the winter and much more. That they can provide for their children, give them an education and pay the bills. I wish them good health and joy. Like Murray McLauchlan in his song to the farmer: “Thanks for the meal…
From a kid from the city to you.”